To the Reader.  
This Figure, that thou here seest put,  
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut;  
Wherein the Graver had a strife  
with Nature, to out-doo the life:  
O, could he but have drawn his wit  
As well in brass, as he hath hit  
His face; the Print would then surpass  
All, that was ever writ in brass.  
But, since he cannot, Reader, look  
Not on his Picture, but his Book.  
B.I.   

MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES, HISTORIES, & TRAGEDIES.  
Published according to the True Original Copies.   portrait of William Shakespeare 
LONDON Printed by Isaac jaggard, and Ed. Blount. 1623.   

TO THE MOST NOBLE AND INCOMPARABLE PAIR OF BRETHREN. WILLIAM Earl of Pembroke, etc. Lord Chamberlain to the Kings most Excellent Majesty. AND PHILIP Earl of Montgomery, etc. Gentleman of his Majesty's Bedchamber. Both Knights of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and our singular good LORDS.  
Right Honourable,  
WHilst we study to be thankful in our particular, for the many favours we have received from your L.L we are fall'n upon the ill fortune, to mingle two the most divers things that can be, fear, and rashness; rashness in the enterprise, and fear of the success. For, when we value the places your H.H. sustain, we cannot but know their dignity greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles: and, while we name them trifles, we have deprived ourselves of the defence of our Dedication. But since your L.L. have been pleased to think these trifles something, heretofore; and have prosecuted both them, and their Author living, with so much favour: we hope, that (they out-living him, and he not having the fate, common with some, to be executor to his own writings) you will use the like indulgence toward them, you have done unto their parent. There is a great difference, whether any Book choose his Patroness, or find them: This hath done both. For, so much were your L L. like of the several parts, when they were acted as before they were published, the Volume asked to be yours. We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphans, Guardians; without ambition either of selfeprofit, or fame: only to keep the memory of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow alive, as was our SHAKESPEARE, by humble offer of his plays, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as we have justly observed, no man to come near your L.L. but with a kind of religious address; it hath been the height of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present worthy of your H.H. by the perfection. But, there we must also crave our abilities to be considered, my Lords. We cannot go beyond our own powers. Country hands reach forth milk, cream, fruits, or what they have: and many Nations (we have heard) that had not gums & incense, obtained their requests with a leavened Cake. It was no fault to approach their Gods, by what means they could: And the most, though meanest, of things are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Temples. In that name therefore, we most humbly consecrate to your H.H. these remains of your servant Shakespeare; that what delight is in them, may be ever your L.L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if any be committed, by a pair so careful to show their gratitude both to the living, and the dead, as is  
Your Lordships most bounden, JOHN HEMINGE. HENRY CONDELL.   

To the great Variety of Readers.  
FRom the most able, to him that can but spell: There you are numbered. We had rather you were weighed. Especially, when the fate of all Books depends upon your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. Well! It is now public, & you will stand for your privileges we know: to read, and censure. Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Book, the Stationer says. Then, how odd soever your brains be, or your wisdoms, make your licence the same, and spare not. judge your sixe-pen'orth, your shillings worth, your five shillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rise to the just rates, and welcome. But, what ever you do, Buy. Censure will not drive a Trade, or make the jacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on the Stage at Blackfriars, or the Cockpit, to arraign Plays daily, know, these Plays have had their trial already, and stood out all Appeals; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court, than any purchased Letters of commendation.  
It had been a thing, we confess, worthy to have been wished, that the Author himself had lived to have set forth, and overseen his own writings; But since it hath been ordained otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envy his Friends, the office of their care, and pain, to have collected & published them; and so to have published them, as where (before) you were abused with divers stolen, and surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealths of injurious impostors, that exposed them: even those, are now offered to your view cured, and perfect of their limbs; and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceived them. Who, as he was a happy imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he uttered with that easiness, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our province, who only gather his works, and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that read him. And there we hope, to your diverse capacities, you will find enough, both to draw, and hold you: for his wit can no more lie hid, than it could be lost. Read him, therefore; and again, and again: And if than you do not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, can be your guides: if you need them not, you can lead yourselves, and others. And such Readers we wish him.  
john Heminge. Henry Condell.   

To the memory of my beloved, The AUTHOR MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: AND what he hath left us.  
TO draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name,  
Am I thus ample to thy Book, and Fame:  
While I confess thy writings to be such,  
As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.  
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways  
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise:  
For seeliest Ignorance on these may light,  
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;  
Or blind Affection, which doth ne'er advance  
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;  
Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise,  
And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.  
These are, as some infamous Bawd, or Whore,  
Should praise a Matron. What could hurt her more?  
But thou art proof against them, and indeed  
Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need.  
I, therefore will begin. Soul of the Age!  
The applause! delight! the wonder of our Stage!  
My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by  
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumond lie  
A little further, to make thee a room:  
Thou art a Monument, without a tomb,  
And art alive still, while thy Book doth live,  
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.  
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses;  
I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses:  
For, if I thought my judgement were of years,  
I should commit thee surely with thy peers,  
And tell, how fare thou didstst our Lily outshine,  
Or sporting Kid, or Marlowes mighty line.  
And though thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek,  
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek  
For names; but call forth thundering Aeschilus',  
Euripides, and Sophocles to us,  
Paccwius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,  
To life again, to hear thy Buskin tread,  
And shake a Stage: Or, when thy Socks were on,  
Leave thee alone, for the comparison  
Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome  
sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.  
Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,  
To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe.  
He was not of an age, but for all time!  
And all the Muses still were in their prime,  
When like Apollo he came forth to warm  
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!  
Nature herself was proud of his designs,  
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!  
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,  
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit.  
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,  
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;  
But antiquated, and deserted lie  
As they were not of Nature's family.  
Yet must I not give Nature all: Thy Art,  
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.  
For though the Poet's matter, Nature be,  
His Art doth give the fashion. And, that he,  
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,  
(such as thine are) and strike the second heat  
Upon the Muse's anvil: turn the same,  
(And himself with it) that he thinks to frame;  
Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn,  
For a good Poet's made, as well as borne.  
And such wert thou. Look how the father's face  
Life's in his issue, even so, the race  
Of Shakespeare's mind, and manners brightly shines  
In his well turned, and true-filed lines:  
In each of which, he seems to shake a Lance,  
As brandished at the eyes of Ignorance.  
Sweet Swan of avon! what a sight it were  
To see thee in our waters yet appear,  
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,  
That so did take Eliza, and our james!  
But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere  
Advanced, and made a Constellation there!  
Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage,  
Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping Stage;  
Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,  
And despairs day, but for thy Volumes light.  
BEN: JONSON.   

Upon the Lines and Life of the Famous Scenicke Poet, Master WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.  
THose hands, which you so clapped, go now, and wring  
You Britain's brave; for done are Shakespeare's days:  
His days are done, that made the dainty Plays,  
Which made the Globe of heaven and earth to ring.  
Dry'de is that vein, dried is the Thespian Spring,  
Turned all to tears, and Phoebus' clouds his rays:  
That corpse, that coffin now besticke those bays,  
Which crowned him Poet first, than Poets King.  
If Tragedies might any Prologue have,  
All those he made, would scarce make one to this:  
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave  
(Death's public tiring-house) the Nuntius is.  
For though his line of life went soon about,  
The life yet of his lines shall never out.  
HUGH HOLLAND.   

TO THE MEMORY of the deceased Author Master W. SHAKESPEARE.  
Shakespeare, at length thy pious fellows give  
The world thy Works: thy Works, by which, outlive  
Thy Tomb, thy name must when that stone is rend,  
And Time dissolves thy Stratford Monument,  
Here we alive shall view thee still. This Book,  
When Brass and Marble fade, shall make thee look  
Fresh to all Ages: when Posterity  
Shall loathe what's new, think all is prodigy  
That is not Shakespeares; every Line, each Verse  
Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy Hearse.  
Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,  
Of his, thy wit-fraught Book shall once invade  
Nor shall I ere believe, or think thee dead  
(Though missed) until our bankrupt Stage be spal  
(Jmpossible) with some new strain t' outdo  
Passions of juliet, and her Romeo;  
Or till I hear a Scene more nobly take,  
Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spoke.  
Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest  
Shall with more fire, more feeling be expressed,  
Be sure, our Shakespeare, thou canst never dye,  
But crowned with Laurel, live eternally.  
L. Digges.   

To the memory of M. W. Shakespeare.  
WE wondered (Shakespeare) that thou wentest so soon  
From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-tyring-roome.  
We thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth,  
Tells thy Spectators, that thou wentest but forth  
To enter with applause. An Actor's Art,  
Can dye, and live, to act a second part.  
That's but an Exit of Mortality;  
This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite.  
I.M.   

The Works of William Shakespeare, containing all his Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies: Truly set forth, according to their first ORJGJNALL.  
The Names of the Principal Actors in all these Plays.  

WIlliam Shakespeare.  
Richard Burbadge.  
John Hemmings.  
Augustine Phillips.  
William Kempt.  
Thomas Poope.  
George Bryan.  
Henry Condell.  
William Slye.  
Richard Cow.  
John Lowine.  
Samuel Cross.  
Alexander Cook.  
Samuel Gilburne.  
Robert Armin.  
William Ostler.  
Nathan Field.  
John Underwood.  
Nicholas Tooley.  
William Ecclestone.  
Joseph Taylor.  
Robert Benfield.  
Robert Goughe.  
Richard Robinson.  
john Shancke.  
john Rice.    

A CATALOGVE of the several Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies contained in this Volume.  

COMEDIES.  

THe Tempest. Folio 1.  
The two Gentlemen of Verona. 20  
The Merry Wives of Windsor. 38  
Measure for Measure. 61  
The Comedy of Errors. 85  
Much ado about Nothing. 101  
Loves Labour lost. 122  
Midsummer Night's Dream. 145  
The Merchant of Venice. 163  
As you Like it. 185  
The Taming of the Shrew. 208  
All is well, that Ends well. 230  
Twelve-night, or what you will. 255  
The Winters Tale. 304    

HISTORIES.  

The Life and Death of King John. Fol. 1.  
The Life & death of Richard the second. 23  
The First part of King Henry the fourth. 46  
The Second part of K. Henry the fourth. 74  
The Life of King Henry the Fift. 69  
The First part of King Henry the Sixt. 96  
The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt. 120  
The Third part of King Henry the Sixt. 147  
The Life & Death of Richard the Third. 173  
The Life of King Henry the Eight. 205    

TRAGEDIES.  

The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Fol. 1.  
Titus Andronicus. 31  
Romeo and Juliet. 53  
Timon of Athens. 80  
The Life and death of Julius Caesar. 109  
The Tragedy of Macbeth. 131  
The Tragedy of Hamlet. 152  
King Lear. 283  
Othello, the Moor of Venice. 310  
Anthony and Cleopater. 346  
Cymbeline King of Britain. 369     

THE TEMPEST.  

Actus primus,  

Scena prima.  A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a Shipmaster, and a Boatswain. Master. 
Boteswaine.  Botes. 
here Master: What cheer?  Mast. 
Good: Speak to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run ourselves a ground, bestir, bestir.  Exit. Enter Mariner's. Botes. 
Heigh my hearts, cheerly, cheerly my hearts: you're, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Master's whistle: Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.  Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others. Alon. 
Good boatswain have care: where's the Master? Play the men.  Botes. 
I pray now keep below.  Auth. 
Where is the Master, Boson?  Botes. 
Do you not hear him? you mar our labour,  
Keep your Cabins: you do assist the storm.  Gonz. 
Nay, good be patiented.  Botes. 
When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabin; silence: trouble us not.  Gon. 
Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.  Botes. 
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 thankes 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. Gon. 
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 borne to be hanged, our case is miserable.  Exit. Enter Boatswain. Botes. 
down with the topmast: you're, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague— A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo. upon this howling: they are louder than the weather, or our office: yet again? What do you here? Shall we give over and drown, have you a mind to sink?  Sebas. 
A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous incharitable Dog.  Botes. 
Work you then.  Anth. 
Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noysemaker, we are less afraid to be drowned, than thou art.  Gonz. 
I'll warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger than a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an unstanched wench.  Botes. 
Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea again, lay her off.  Enter Mariner's wet. Mari. 
All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.  Botes. 
What must our mouths be cold?  Gonz. 
The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs.  Sebas. 
I am out of patience.  An. 
We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards,  
This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lie drowning the washing of ten Tides.  Gonz. 
he'll be hanged yet,  
Though every drop of water swear against it.  
And gape at widst 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.  Anth. 
Let's all sink with ' King  Seb. 
Let's take leave of him.  Exit. Gonz. 
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Brown sirs, any thing; the wills above be done, but I would fain dye a dry death.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Prospero and Miranda. Mira. 
If by your Art (my dearest father) you have  
Put the wild waters in this Ro●e; allay them:  
The sky it seems would pour down stinking pitch,  
But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,  
Dashes the fire out. Oh! I have suffered  
With those that I saw suffer: A brave vessel  
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her)  
Dashed all to pieces: O the cry did knock  
Against my very heart: poor souls, they perished.  
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 swallowed, and  
The fraughting Souls within her.  Pros. 
Be collected,  
No more amazement: Tell your piteous heart there's no harm done.  Mira. 
O woe, the day.  Pros. 
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▪ naught knowing  
Of whence I am: nor that I am more better  
Than Prospero, Master of a full poor cell,  
And thy no greater Father.  Mira. 
More to know  
Did never meddle with my thoughts.  Pros. 
'Tis time  
I should inform thee farther: Lend thy hand  
And pluck my Magic garment from me: So,  
Lie there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, have comfort,  
The direful spectacle of the wrack which touched  
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  
Betided to any creature in the vessel  
Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sink: Sat down,  
For thou must now know farther.  Mira. 
You have often  
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped  
And left me to a bootless Inquisition,  
Concluding, stay: not yet.  Pros. 
The howrs now come  
The very minute bids thee open thine care,  
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember  
A time before we came unto this Cell?  
I do not think thou canst, for than thou was't not  
Out three years old.  Mira. 
Certainly Sir, I can.  Pros. 
By what? by any other house, or person?  
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that  
Hath kept with thy remembrance.  Mira. 
'Tis fare off:  
And rather like a dream, than an assurance  
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not  
Four, or five women once, that tended me?  Pros. 
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 cam'st here,  
How thou cam'st here thou mayst.  Mira. 
But that I do not.  Pros. 
Twelve year since (Miranda) twelve year since,  
Thy father was the Duke of Milan and  
A Prince of power:  Mira. 
Sir, are not you my Father?  Pros. 
Thy Mother was a piece of virtue, and  
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father  
Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir,  
And Princess; no worse Issued.  Mira. 
O the heavens,  
What fowl play had we, that we came from thence?  
Or blessed was't we did?  Pros. 
Both, both my Girl.  
By fowle-play (as thou sayest) were we heaved thence,  
But blessedly holp hither.  Mira. 
O my heart bleeds  
To think o'th' teen that I have turned you to,  
Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;  Pros. 
My brother and thy uncle, called Anthonio:  
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?)  Mira. 
Sir, most heedfully.  Pros. 
Being once perfected how to grant suits, how to deny them: who t' advance, and who  
To trash for over-topping; new created  
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,  
Or else new formed 'em; having both the key,  
Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i' th' state  
To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was  
The juy which had hid my princely Trunk,  
And sucked my verdure out on't: Thou attendest not?  Mira. 
O good Sir, I do.  Pros. 
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  
Ore-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' th' Substitution  
And executing th' outward face of Royalty  
With all prerogative: hence his Ambition growing:  
Dost thou hear?  Mira. 
Your tale, Sir, would cure deafness.  Pros. 
To have no Schreene between this part he played,  
And him he played it for, he needs will be  
Absolute Milan, Me (poor man) my Library  
Was Dukedom large enough: of temporal roalties  
He thinks me now incapable. Confederates  
(so dry he was for Sway) with King of Naples  
To give him Annual tribute, do him homage  
Subject his Coronet, to his Crown and bend  
The Dukedom yet vnbowed (alas poor Milan)  
To most ignoble stooping.  Mira. 
Oh the heavens:  Pros. 
Mark his condition, and th' event, then tell me  
If this might be a brother.  Mira. 
I should sinne  
To think but Nobly of my Grandmother,  
Good wombs have borne bad sons.  Pro. 
Now the Condition.  
This King of Naples being an Enemy  
To me inveterate, hearkens my Brother's suit,  
Which was, That he in lieu o' th' 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 th' purpose, did Anthonio open  
The gates of Milan, and i'th' dead of darkness  
The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence  
Me, and thy crying self.  Mir. 
Alack, for pity:  
I not remembering how I cried out then  
Will cry it over again: it is a hint  
That wrings mine eyes too't.  Pro. 
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.  Mir. 
Wherefore did they not  
That hour destroy us?  Pro. 
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 carcase of a Butt, not rigged,  
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast, the very rats  
Instinctively have quit it: There they hoist us  
To cry to th' Sea, that roared to us; to sigh  
To th' winds, whose pity sighing back again  
Did us but loving wrong.  Mir. 
Alack, what trouble  
Was I then to you?  Pro. 
O, a Cherubin  
Thou was't that did preserve me; Thou didst smile,  
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,  
When I have decked the sea with drops full salt,  
Under my burden groaned, which raised in me  
An undergoing stomach, to bear up  
Against what should ensue.  Mir. 
How came we a shore?  Pro. 
By providence divine,  
Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that  
A noble Neapolitan Gonzalo  
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed  
Master of this design) did give us, with  
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries  
Which since have steeded much, so of his gentleness  
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me  
From mine own Library, with volumes, that  
I prise above my Dukedom.  Mir. 
Would I might  
But ever see that man.  Pro. 
Now I arise,  
Sat 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 Princess can, that have more time  
For vainer hours; and Tutors, not so careful.  Mir. 
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?  Pro. 
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: Hear cease more questions,  
Thou art inclined to sleep: 'tis a good dulness,  
And give it way: I know thou canst not choose:  
Come away, Servant, come; I am ready now,  
Approach my Ariel. Come.  Enter Ariel. Ari. 
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 curled clouds: to thy strong bidding, task  
Ariel, and all his Quality.  Pro. 
Hast thou, Spirit,  
Performed to point, the Tempest that I bade thee.  Ar. 
To every Article.  
I boarded the King's ship: now on the Beak,  
Now in the Waste, the Deck, in every Cabyn,  
I flamed amazement, sometime I'd divide  
And burn in many places; on the Topmast,  
The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly,  
Then meet, and join. Jove's Lightning, the precursers  
O' th' dreadful Thunderclaps more momentary  
And fight out-running 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.  Pro. 
My brave Spirit,  
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil  
Would not infect his reason?  Ar. 
Not a soul  
But felt a Fever of the mad, and played  
Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners  
Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel;  
Then all a fire with me the King's son Ferdinand  
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair)  
Was the first man that leapt; cried hell is empty,  
And all the Devils are here.  Pro. 
Why that's my spirit:  
But was not this nigh shore?  Ar. 
Close by, my Master.  Pro. 
But are they (ariel) safe?  Ar. 
Not a hair perished:  
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,  
But fresher than before: and as thou badst 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.  Pro. 
Of the King's ship,  
The Mariners, say how thou hast disposed,  
And all the rest o' th' Fleet?  Ar. 
Safely in harbour  
Is the King's ship, in the deep Nook, where once  
Thou calldst me up at midnight to fetch dew  
From the still-vext Bermudas, there she's hid;  
The Mariners all under hatches stowed,  
Who, with a Charm joined to their suffered labour  
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' th' Fleet  
(Which I dispersed) they all have met again,  
And are upon the Mediterranean Float  
Bound sadly home for Naples,  
Supposing that they saw the King's ship wracked,  
And his great person perish.  Pro. 
Ariel, thy charge  
Exactly is performed; but there's more work:  
What is the time o' th' day?  Ar. 
Past the mid season.  Pro. 
At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now  
Must by us both be spent most preciously.  Ar. 
Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,  
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,  
Which is not yet performed me.  Pro. 
How now? moody?  
What is't thou canst demand?  Ar. 
My Liberty.  Pro. 
Before the time be out? no more:  Ar. 
I prithee,  
Remember I have done thee worthy service,  
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistake, served  
Without or grudge, or grumble; thou did promise  
To bate me a full year.  Pro. 
Dost thou forget  
From what a torment I did free thee?  Ar. 
No.  Pro. 
Thou dost: & thinkest 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' th' earth  
When it is baked with frost.  Ar. 
I do not Sir.  Pro. 
Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot  
The fowl Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Envy  
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?  Ar. 
No Sir.  Pro. 
Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:  Ar. 
Sir, in Argier.  Pro. 
Oh, was she so: I must  
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,  
Which thou forgettest. This damned Witch Sycorax  
For mischiefs manifold, and forceries terrible  
To enter humane hearing, from Argier  
Thou knowst was banished: for one thing she did  
They would not take her life: Is not this true?  Ar. 
I, Sir.  Pro. 
This blue eyed hag, was hither brought with child,  
And here was left by th' Sailors; thou my slave,  
As thou reportest thyself, was then her servant,  
And for thou wast a Spirit too-delicate  
To act her earthy, and abhorred commands,  
Refusing her grand hefts, she did confine thee  
By help of her more potent Ministers,  
And in her most unmittigable rage,  
Into a cloven Pine, within which rift  
Imprisoned, 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-wheeles strike: Then was this Island  
(Save for the Son, that he did litter here,  
A frekelld whelp, hag-borne) not honoured with  
A humane shape.  Ar. 
Yes: Caliban her son.  Pro. 
Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban  
Whom now I keep in service, thou best knowst  
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 damned, which Sycorax  
Can not again undo: it was mine Art,  
When I arrived, and heard thee, that made gape  
The Pine, and let thee out.  Ar. 
I thank thee Master.  Pro. 
If thou more murmurest, I will rend an Oak  
And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till  
Thou hast howled away twelve winters.  Ar. 
Pardon, Master,  
I will be correspondent to command  
And do my spryting, gently.  Pro. 
Do so: and after two days  
I will discharge thee.  Ar. 
That's my noble Master:  
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?  Pro. 
Go make thyself like a Nymph o' th' 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. Pro. 
Awake, dear hart awake, thou hast slept well,  
Awake.  Mir. 
The strangeness of your story, put  
Heaviness in me.  Pro. 
Shake it off: Come on,  
we'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never  
Yields us kind answer.  Mir. 
'Tis a villain Sir, I do not love to look on.  Pro. 
But as 'tis  
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,  
Fetch in our wood, and serves in Offices  
That profit us: What hoa: slave: Caliban:  
Thou Earth, thou: speak.  Cal. 
within. There's wood enough within.  Pro. 
Come forth I say, there's other business for thee:  
Come thou Tortoise, when?  Enter Ariel like a water-Nymph. 
Fine apparition: my quaint Ariel,  
Hark in thine ear.  Ar. 
My Lord, it shall be done.  Exit. Pro. 
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself  
Upon thy wicked Dam; come forth.  Enter Caliban. Cal. 
As wicked dew, as ere my mother brushed  
With Raven's feather from unwholesome Fen  
Drop on you both: A South-west blow on ye,  
And blister you all over.  Pro. 
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 pinched  
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging  
Then Bees that made 'em.  Cal. 
I must eat my dinner:  
This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,  
Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first  
Thou stroakst me, & made 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 showed thee all the qualities o' th' 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 min own King: and here you sty-me  
In this hard Rock, whiles you do keep from me  
The rest o' th' Island.  Pro. 
Thou most lying slave,  
Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have used thee  
(Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodged thee  
In mine own Cell, till thou didst seek to violate  
The honour of my child.  Cal. 
Oh ho, oh ho, will't had been done:  
Thou didst prevent me, I had peopeled else  
This Isle with Calibans.  Mira. 
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 endowed thy purposes  
With words that made them known: But thy vild race  
(Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures  
Can not abide to be with; therefore wast thou  
Deservedly confined into this Rock, who hadst  
Deserved more than a prison.  Cal. 
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.  Pros. 
Hag-seed, hence:  
Fetch us in Fuel, and be quick thou'rt best  
To answer other business: shruggest 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.  Cal. 
No, pray thee.  
I must obey, his Art is of such power,  
It would control my Dam's god Setebos,  
And make a vassal of him.  Pro. 
So slave, hence.  Exit Cal. Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, invisible playing & singing. Ariel 

Song.  
Come unto these yellow sands, and then take hands:  
Courtesan sied when you have, and kissed the wild waves whist:  
Foot it featly here, and there, and sweet Sprights bear the burden.  
Burden dispersedly. Hark, hark, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges bark, bowgh-wawgh.   Ar. 
Hark, hark, I hear, the strain of strutting Chanticleer cry cockadidle-dowe.  Fer. 
Where should this Music be? I' th' air, or th' earth?  
It sounds no more: and sure it waits upon  
Some God ' o'th' Island, sitting on a bank,  
Weeping again the King my Father's wrack.  
This Music crept by me upon the waters,  
Allaying both their fury, and my passion  
With its sweet air; thence I have followed it  
(Or it hath drawn me rather) but 'tis gone.  
No, it gins again.  ariel 

Song.  
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, & strange:  
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell.  
Burden: dingdong. Hark now I hear them, dingdong bell.   Fer. 
The Ditty does remember my drowned father,  
This is no mortal business, nor no found  
That the earth owes: I hear it now above me.  Pro. 
The fringed Curtains of thine eye advance,  
And say what thou seest yond.  Mira. 
What is't a Spirit?  
Lord, how it looks about: Believe me sir,  
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.  Pro. 
No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses  
As we have: such. This Gallant which thou seest  
Was in the wrack: and but he's something stained  
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.  Mir. 
I might call him  
A thing divine, for nothing natural  
I ever saw so Noble.  Pro. 
It goes on I see  
As my soul prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, I'll free thee  
Within two days for this.  Fer. 
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?  Mir. 
No wonder Sir,  
But certainly a Maid.  Fer. 
My Language? Heaven's:  
I am the best of them that speak this speech,  
Were I but where 'tis spoken.  Pro. 
How? the best?  
What were't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?  Fer. 
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 wracked.  Mir. 
Alack, for mercy.  Fer. 
Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Milan  
And his brave son, being twain.  Pro. 
The Duke of Milan  
And his more braver daughter, could control thee  
If now 'twere sit to do't: At the first sight  
They have changed eyes: Delicate Ariel,  
I'll set thee free for this. A word good Sir,  
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: A word.  Mir. 
Why speaks my father so ungently? This  
Is the third man that ere I saw: the first  
That ere I sighed for: pity move my father  
To be inclined my way.  Fer. 
O, if a Virgin,  
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you  
The Queen of Naples.  Pro. 
Soft sir, one word more.  
They are both in either's powers: But this swift business  
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning  
Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee  
That thou attend me: Thou dost here usurp  
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thyself  
Upon this Island, as a spy, to win it  
From me, the Lord on't.  Fer. 
No, as I am a man.  Mir. 
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.  Pro. 
Fellow me.  Pros. 
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-brooke Mussels, withered roots, and husks  
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.  Fer. 
No,  
I will resist such entertainment, till  
Mine enemy has more power.  He draws, and is charmed from moving. Mira. 
O dear Father,  
Make not too rash a trial of him, for  
he's gentle, and not fearful.  Pros. 
What I say,  
My foot my Tutor? Put thy sword up Traitor,  
Who makest a show, but darest not strike: thy conscience  
Is so possessed with guilt: Come, from thy ward,  
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,  
And make thy weapon drop.  Mira. 
Beseech you Father.  Pros. 
Hence: hang not on my garments.  Mira. 
Sir have pity,  
I'll be his surety.  Pros. 
Silence: One word more  
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What,  
An advocate for an Impostor? Hush:  
Thou thinkest there is no more such shapes as he,  
(Having seen but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench,  
To th' most of men, this is a Caliban,  
And they to him are Angels.  Mira. 
My affections  
Are then most humble: I have no ambition  
To see a goodlier man.  Pros. 
Come on, obey:  
Thy Nerves are in their infancy again.  
And have no vigour in them.  Fer. 
So they are:  
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up:  
My Father's loss, the weakness which I feel,  
The wrack 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' th' Earth  
Let liberty make use of: space enough  
Have I in such a prison.  Pros. 
It works: Come on.  
Thou hast done well, fine ariel: follow me,  
Hark what thou else shalt do me.  Mira. 
Be of comfort,  
My Fathers of a better nature (Sir)  
Then he appears by speech: this is unwonted  
Which now came from him.  Pros. 
Thou shalt be as free  
As mountain winds; but then exactly do  
All points of my command.  ariel. 
To th' syllable.  Pros. 
Come follow: speak not for him.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others. Gonz. 
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.  Alons. 
Prithee peace.  Seb. 
He receives comfort like cold porridge.  Ant. 
The Visitor will not give him over so.  Seb. 
Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit, By and by it will strike.  Gon. 
Sir.  Seb. 
One: Tell.  Gon. 
When every grief is entertained,  
That's offered comes to th' entertainer.  Seb. 
A dolor.  Gon. 
Dolour comes to him indeed, you have spoken truer than you purposed.  Seb. 
You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.  Gon. 
Therefore my Lord.  Ant. 
Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue.  Alon. 
I prithee spare.  Gon. 
Well, I have done: But yet  Seb. 
He will be talking.  Ant. 
Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager,  
First gins to crow?  Seb. 
The old Cock.  Ant. 
The Cockerel.  Seb. 
Done: The wager?  Ant. 
A Laughter.  Seb. 
A match.  Adr. 
Though this Island seem to be desert.  Seb. 
Ha', ha', ha'.  Ant. 
So: you're paid.  Adr. 
Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible.  Seb. 
Yet  Adr. 
Yet  Ant. 
He could not misseed.  Adr. 
It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.  Ant. 
Temperance was a delicate wench.  Seb. 
I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered.  Adr. 
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.  Seb. 
As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones.  Ant. 
Or, as 'twere perfumed by a Fen.  Gon. 
here is every thing advantageous to life.  Ant. 
True, save means to live.  Seb. 
Of that there's none, or little.  Gon. 
How lush and lusty the grass looks?  
How green?  Ant. 
The ground indeed is tawny.  Seb. 
With an eye of green in't.  Ant. 
He misses not much.  Seb. 
No: he doth but mistake the truth totally.  Gon. 
But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit.  Seb. 
As many vouched rarieties are.  Gon. 
That our Garments being (as they were) drenched in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new died then stained with salt water.  Ant. 
If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?  Seb. 
I, or very falsely pocket up his report.  Gon. 
Me thinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africa, at the marriage of the kings fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.  Seb. 
'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.  Adri. 
Tunis was never graced before with such a Paragon to their Queen.  Gon. 
Not since widow Dido's time.  Ant. 
Widow? A pox o' that: how came that Widow in? Widow Dido!  Seb. 
What if he had said Widower Aeneas too?  
Good Lord, how you take it?  Adri. 
Widow Dido said you? You make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.  Gon. 
This Tunis Sir was Carthage.  Adri. 
Carthage?  Gon. 
I assure you Carthage.  Ant. 
His word is more than the miraculous Harp.  Seb. 
He hath raised the wall, and houses too.  Ant. 
What impossible matter will he make easy next?  Seb. 
I think he will carry this Island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an Apple.  Ant. 
And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands.  Gon. 
I.  Ant. 
Why in good time.  Gon. 
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.  Ant. 
And the rarest that ere came there.  Seb. 
Bate (I beseech you) widow Dido.  Ant. 
O Widow Dido? I, Widow Dido.  Gon. 
Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean in a sort.  Ant. 
That sort was well fished for.  Gon. 
When I wore it at your daughter's marriage.  Alon. 
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 fare 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?  Fran. 
Sir he may live,  
I saw him beat the surges under him,  
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water  
Whose enmity he fling aside: and breasted  
The surge most swollen that met him: his bold head  
'Boue the contentious waves he kept▪ and oared  
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke  
To th' shore; that o'er his wave-worne basis bowed  
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt  
He came alive to Land.  Alon. 
No, no, he's gone.  Seb. 
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 banished from your eye,  
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.  Alon. 
Prithee peace.  Seb. 
You were kneeled too, & importuned otherwise  
By all of us: and the fair soul herself  
Weighed between loathness, and obedience, at  
Which end o' th' beam should bow: we have lost your son,  
I fear for ever: Milan and Naples have  
more widows in them of this business making,  
Then we bring men to comfort them:  
The faults your own.  Alon. 
So is the doer'st o'th' loss.  Gon. 
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.  Seb. 
Very well.  Ant. 
And most Chirurgeonly.  Gon. 
It is foul weather in us all, good Sir,  
When you are cloudy.  Seb. 
Fowl weather?  Ant. 
Very foul.  Gon. 
Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord.  Ant. 
he'd sowed with Nettle-seed.  Seb. 
Or dockes, or Mallows.  Gon. 
And were the King on't, what would I do?  Seb. 
Escape being drunk, for want of Wine.  Gon. 
I' th' 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,  
Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:  
No use of Mettle, Corn, or Wine, or Oil:  
No occupation, all men idle, all:  
And Women too, but innocent and pure:  
No Sovereignty.  Seb. 
Yet he would be King on't.  Ant. 
The latter end of his Commonwealth forgets the beginning.  Gon. 
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 it own kind, all foyzon, all abundance  
To feed my innocent people.  Seb. 
No marrying 'mong his subjects?  Ant. 
None (man) all idle; Whores and knaves,  Gon. 
I would with such perfection govern Sir:  
T' Excel the Golden Age.  Seb. 
'Saue his Majesty.  Ant. 
Long live Gonzalo.  Gon. 
And do you mark me, Sir?  Alon. 
Prithee no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.  Gon. 
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.  Ant. 
'Twas you we laughed at.  Gon. 
Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.  Ant. 
What a blow was there given?  Seb. 
And it had not fall'n flatlong.  Gon. 
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 playing solemn Music. Seb. 
We would so, and then go a Batfowling.  Ant. 
Nay good my Lord, be not angry.  Gon. 
No I warrant you, I will not adventure my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy.  Ant. 
Go sleep, and hear us.  Alon. 
What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes  
Would (with themselves) shut up my thoughts,  
I find they are inclined to do so.  Seb. 
Please you Sir,  
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:  
It seldom visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter.  Ant. 
We two my Lord, will guard your person,  
While you take your rest, and watch your safety.  Alon. 
Thank you: Wondrous heavy.  Seb. 
What a strange drowsiness possesses them?  Ant. 
It is the quality o' th' Climate.  Seb. 
Why  
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find  
Not myself disposed to sleep.  Ant. 
Nor I, my spirits are nimble:  
They fell together all, as by consent  
They dropped, as by a Thunderstroke: what might  
Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:  
And yet, me thinks I see it in thy face,  
What thou shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee, and  
My strong imagination see's a Crown  
Dropping upon thy head.  Seb. 
What? art thou waking?  Ant. 
Do you not hear me speak?  Seb. 
I do, and surely  
It is a sleepy Language; and thou speakest  
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.  Ant. 
Noble Sebastian,  
Thou lettest thy fortune sleep: die rather: winkest  
Whiles thou art waking.  Seb. 
Thou dost snore distinctly,  
There's meaning in thy snores.  Ant. 
I am more serious than my custom: you  
Must be so too, if heed me: which to do,  
Trebles thee o'er.  Seb. 
Well: I am standing water.  Ant. 
I'll teach you how to flow.  Seb. 
Do so: to ebb  
Hereditary Sloth instructs me.  Ant. 
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.  Seb. 
‛ Prithee say on,  
The setting of thine eye, and cheek proclaim  
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,  
Which throws thee much to yield.  Ant. 
Thus Sir:  
Although this Lord of weak remembrance; this  
Who shall be of as little memory  
When he is earthed, hath here almost persuaded  
(For he's a Spirit of persuasion, only  
Professes to persuade) the King his son's alive,  
'Tis as impossible that he's vndrowned,  
As he that sleeps here, swims.  Seb. 
I have no hope  
That he's vndrowned.  Ant. 
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 drowned.  Seb. 
He's gone.  Ant. 
Then tell me, who's the next heir of Naples?  Seb. 
Claribell.  Ant. 
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' th' moon's too slow, till newborn chins  
Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom  
We all were sea-swallowed, 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.  Seb. 
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.  Ant. 
A space, whose every cubit  
Seems to cry out, how shall that Claribell  
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 Gonzallo: 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?  Seb. 
Me thinks I do.  Ant. 
And how does your content  
Tender your own good fortune?  Seb. 
I remember  
You did supplant your Brothet Prospero.  Ant. 
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.  Seb. 
But for your conscience.  Ant. 
I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe  
'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 mollest: 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.  Seb. 
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.  Ant. 
Draw together:  
And when I rear my hand, do you the like  
To fall it on Gonzalo.  Seb. 
O, but one word.  Enter ariel with Music and Song. 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 Gonzaloes' 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.  Ant. 
Then let us both be sudden.  Gon. 
Now, good Angels preserve the King.  Alo. 
Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn?  
Wherefore this ghastly looking?  Gon. 
What's the matter?  Seb. 
Whiles we stood here securing your repose,  
(Even now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing  
Like Bulls, or rather Lions, dided not wake you?  
It strooke mine ear most terribly.  Alo. 
I heard nothing.  Ant. 
O, 'twas a din to fright a Monster's ear;  
To make an earthquake: sure it was the roar  
Of a whole heard of Lions.  Alo. 
Herd you this Gonzalo?  Gon. 
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 opened,  
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.  Alo. 
Led off this ground & let's make further search  
For my poor son.  Gon. 
Heaven's keep him from these Beasts:  
For he is sure i' th' Island.  Alo. 
Led away.  ariel. 
Prospero my Lord, shall know what I have done.  
So (King) go safely on to seek thy Son.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Caliban, with a burden of Wood (a noise of Thunder heard.) Cal. 
All the infections that the Sun sucks up  
From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him  
By ynchmeale a disease: his Spirits hear me,  
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,  
Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i' th' 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 moe and chatter at me,  
And after bite me: then like Hedgehogs, which  
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount  
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I  
All wound with Adders, who with cloven tongues  
Do hisse me into madness: Lo, now Lo,  Enter Trinculo. 
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.  Tri. 
Here's neither bush, nor shrub to bear off any weather at all: and another Storm brewing, I hear it sing i th' 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 pailefuls. What have we here, a man, or a fish? dead or alive? a fish, he smells like a fish: a very ancient and fishlike 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-foole 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 do it to relieve a lame Beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Fins like Arms: warm o' my troth: I do now let lose my opinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islander, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows: I will here shroud till the dregges of the storm be past.  Enter Stephano singing. Ste. 
I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye 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 & I;  
The Gunner, and his Mate  
Loved Mall, Meg, and Marrian, 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 ere she did itch.  
Then to Sea Boys, and let her go hang.  
This is a scurvy tune too:  
But here's my comfort.   drinks. Cal. 
Do not torment me: oh.  Ste. 
What's the matter?  
Have we devils here?  
Do you put tricks upon's with Saluages, 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 ' nostril.  Cal. 
The Spirit torments me: oh.  Ste. 
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 Neats-leather.  Cal. 
Do not torment me prithee: I'll bring my wood home faster.  Ste. 
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, it 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 sound.  Cal. 
Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper works upon thee.  Ste. 
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 sound: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps again.  Tri. 
I should know that voice:  
It should be,  
But he is drowned; and these are devils; O defend me.  Ste. 
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 soul 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.  Tri. 
Stephano.  Ste. 
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a devil, and no Monster: I will leave him, I have no long Spoon.  Tri. 
Stephano: if thou be'st Stephano, touch me, and speak to me: for I am Trinculo; be not afeard, thy good friend Trinculo.  Ste. 
If thou be'st 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 cam'st thou to be the siege of this Mooncalf? Can he vent Trinculo's?  Tri. 
I took him to be killed with a thunder-strok; but art thou not drowned Stephano: I hope now thou art not drowned: Is the Storm overblown? I hide me under the dead Moone-calfes' Gaberdine, for fear of the Storm: And art thou living Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scaped?  Ste. 
Prithee do not turn me about, my stomach is not constant.  Cal. 
These be fine things, and if they be not spright's: that's a brave God, and bears Celestial liquor: I will kneel to him.  Ste. 
How didst thou scape?  
How cam'st thou hither?  
Swear by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escaped upon a But of Sack, which the Sailors heaved o' reboord, by this Bottle which I made of the bark of a Tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast a'shore.  Cal. 
I'll swear upon that Bottle, to be thy true subject, for the liquor is not earthly.  St. 
here: swear then how thou escap'dst.  Tri. 
Swom ashore (man) like a Duck: I can swim like a Duck i'll be sworn.  Ste. 
Here, kiss the Book.  
Though thou canst swim like a Duck, thou art made like a Goose.  Tri. 
O Stephano, hast any more of this?  Ste. 
The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rock by th' seaside, where my Wine is hid:  
How now Mooncalf, how does thine Ague?  Cal. 
Hast thou not dropped from heaven?  Ste. 
Out o' th' Moon I do assure thee. I was the Man i'th' Moon, when time was.  Cal. 
I have seen thee in her: and I do adore thee:  
My Mistress showed me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush.  Ste. 
Come, swear to that: kiss the Book: I will furnish it anon with new Contents: Swear.  Tri. 
By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster: I afeard of him? a very weak Monster:  
The Man i'th' Moon?  
A most poor creadulous Monster:  
Well drawn Monster, in good sooth.  Cal. 
I'll show thee every fertile inch o'th' Island: and I will kiss thy foot: I prithee be my god.  Tri. 
By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken Monster, when's god's a sleep he'll rob his Bottle.  Cal. 
I'll kiss thy foot. I'll swear myself thy Subject.  Ste. 
Come on then: down and swear.  Tri. 
I shall laugh myself to death at this puppi-headed Monster: a most scurvy Monster: I could find in my heart to beat him.  Ste. 
Come, kiss.  Tri. 
But that the poor Monster's in drink:  
An abominable Monster.  Cal. 
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.  Tri. 
A most ridiculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard.  Cal. 
I prithee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; show thee a jays nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'll bring thee to clustering Philbirts, and sometimes I'll get thee young Scamels from the Rock: Wilt thou go with me?  Ste. 
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.  Tri. 
A howling Monster: a drunken Monster.  Cal. 
No more dams I'll make for fish,  
Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,  
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish,  
Ban ' ban ' Cacalyban  
Has a new Master, get a new Man.  
Freedom, high-day, high-day freedom, freedom high-day, freedom.  Ste. 
O brave Monster; lead the way.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.) Fer. 
There be some Sports are painful; & their labour  
Delight in them set off: Some kinds of baseness  
Are nobly undergon; 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, & says, such baseness  
Had never like Executor: I forget:  
But these sweet thoughts, do even refresh my labours,  
Most busy jest, when I do it.  Enter Miranda and Prospero. Mir. 
Alas, now pray you  
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had  
Burnt up those Logs that you are enjoind 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.  Fer. 
O most dear Mistress.  
The Sun will set before I shall discharge  
What I must strive to do.  Mir. 
If you'll sit down  
I'll bear your Logs the while: pray give me that,  
I'll carry it to the pile.  Fer. 
No precious Creature,  
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,  
Then you should such dishonour undergo,  
While I sit lazy by.  Mir. 
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.  Pro. 
Poor worm thou art infected,  
This visitation shows it.  Mir. 
You look wearily.  Fer. 
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?  Mir. 
Miranda, O my Father,  
I have broke your hest to say so.  Fer. 
Admitted 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  
Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage  
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues  
Have I liked several women, never any  
With so full 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 peetlesse, are created  
Of every Creatures best.  Mir. 
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.  Fer. 
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, then 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 patiented Logge-man.  Mir. 
Do you love me?  Fer. 
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' th' world  
Do love, prize, honour you.  Mir. 
I am a fool  
To weep at what I am glad of.  Pro. 
Fair encounter  
Of two most rare affections: heavens rain grace  
On that which breeds between 'em.  Fer. 
Wherhfore weep you?  Mir. 
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, if 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.  Fer. 
My Mistress (dearest)  
And I thus humble ever.  Mir. 
My husband then?  Fer. 
I, with a heart as willing  
As bondage ere of freedom: here's my hand.  Mir. 
And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell  
Till half an hour hence.  Fer. 
A thousand, thousand.  Exeunt. Pro. 
So glad of this as they I cannot be,  
Who are surprised with all; 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.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo. Ste. 
Tell not me, when the But is out we will drink water, not a drop before; therefore bear up, & board 'em ' Servant Monster, drink to me.  Trin. 
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.  Ste. 
Drink servant Monster when I bid thee, thy eyes are almost set in thy head.  Trin. 
Where should they be set else? he were a brave Monster indeed if they were set in his tail.  Ste. 
My man-Monster hath drowned his tongue in sack: for my part the Sea cannot drown me, I swum 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.  Trin. 
Your Lieutenant if you lift, he's no standard.  Ste. 
We'll not run Monsieur Monster.  Trin. 
Nor go neither: but you'll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither.  Ste. 
Mooncalf, speak once in thy life, if thou be'st a good Mooncalf.  Cal. 
How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe:  
I'll not serve him, he is not valiant.  Trin. 
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?  Cal. 
Lo, how he mocks me, wilt thou let him my Lord?  Trin. 
Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such a Natural?  Cal. 
Lo, lo again: bite him to death I prithee.  Ste. 
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.  Cal. 
I thank my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleased to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?  Ste. 
Marry will I: kneel, and repeat it,  
I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.  Enter ariel invisible. Cal. 
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.  Cal. 
Thou liest, thou jesting Monkey thou:  
I would my valiant Master would destroy thee.  
I do not lie.  Ste. 
Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale,  
By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.  Trin. 
Why, I said nothing.  Ste. 
Mum then, and no more: proceed.  Cal. 
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.  Ste. 
That's most certain.  Cal. 
Thou shalt be Lord of it, and I'll serve thee.  Ste. 
How now shall this be compassed?  
Canst thou bring me to the party?  Cal. 
Yea, yea my Lord, I'll yield him thee asleep,  
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.  ariel. 
Thou liest, thou canst not.  Cal. 
What a pied Ninnie'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.  Ste. 
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 Stockfish of thee.  Trin. 
Why, what did I? I did nothing:  
I'll go farther off,  Ste. 
Didst thou not say he lied?  ariel. 
Thou liest.  Ste. 
Do I so? Take thou that,  
As you like this, give me the lie another time.  Trin. 
I did not give the lie: Out o' your wits, and hearing too?  
A pox o' your bottle, this can Sack and drinking do:  
A murrain on your Monster, and the devil take your fingers.  Cal. 
Ha', ha', ha'.  Ste. 
Now forward with your Tale: prithee stand further off.  Cal. 
Beat him enough: after a little time  
I'll beat him too.  Ste. 
Stand farther: Come proceed.  Cal. 
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 weazand 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 non-pareill: I never saw a woman  
But only Sycorax my Dam, and she;  
But she as fare surpasseth Sycorax,  
As great'st does least.  Ste. 
Is it so brave a Lass?  Cal. 
I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,  
And bring thee forth brave brood.  Ste. 
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?  Trin. 
Excellent.  Ste. 
Give me thy hand, I am sorry I beat thee:  
But while thou livest keep a good tongue in thy hea●  Cal. 
Within this half hour will he be asleep,  
Wilt thou destroy him then?  Ste. 
I on mine honour.  ariel. 
This will I tell my Master.  Cal. 
Thou makest me merry: I am full of pleasure,  
Let us be jocund. Will you troll the Catch  
You taught me but whileare?  Ste. 
At thy request Monster, I will do reason,  
Any reason: Come on Trinculo, let us sing.  Sings. 

Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em,  
Thought is free.   Cal. 
That's not the tune.  ariel plays the tune on a Tabor and Pipe. Ste. 
What is this same?  Trin. 
This is the tune of our Catch, played by the picture of Nobody.  Ste. 
If thou be'st a man, show thyself in thy likeness:  
If thou be'st a devil, take't as thou list.  Trin. 
O forgive me my sins.  Ste. 
He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee;  
Mercy upon us.  Cal. 
Art thou afeard?  Ste. 
No Monster, not I  Cal. 
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 than had waked after long sleep,  
Will make me sleep again, and then in dreaming,  
The clouds me thought would open, and show riches  
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked  
I cried to dream again.  Ste. 
This will prove a brave kingdom to me,  
Where I shall have my Music for nothing.  Cal. 
When Prospero is destroyed.  Ste. 
That shall be by and by:  
I remember the story.  Trin. 
The sound is going away.  
Let's follow it, and after do our work.  Ste. 
Lead Monster,  
we'll follow: I would I could see this Taborer,  
He lays it on.  Trin. 
Wilt come?  
I'll follow Stephano.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco, etc. Gon. 
By'r lakin, I can go no further, Sir,  
My old bones aches: here's a maze trod indeed  
Through fourth rights, & Meanders: by your patience,  
I needs must rest me.  Al. 
Old Lord, I cannot blame thee,  
Who, am myself attached with weariness  
To th' dulling of my spirits: Sat down, and rest:  
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it  
No longer for my Flatterer: he is drowned  
Whom thus we stray to find, and the Sea mocks  
Our frustrate search on land: well, let him go.  Ant. 
I am right glad, that he's so out of hope:  
Do not for one repulse forgo the purpose  
That you resolved t' effect.  Seb. 
The next advantage will we take throughly.  Ant. 
Let it be to night,  
For now they are oppressed with travail, they  
Will not, nor cannot use such vigilance  
As when they are fresh.  Solemn and strange Music: and Prosper on the top (inuisible●) Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a Banquet; and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations, and inviting the King, etc. to eat, they depart. Seb. 
I say to night: no more.  Al. 
What harmony is this? my good friends, hark.  Gen. 
Marvellous sweet Music.  Alo. 
Give us kind keepers, heavens: what were these?  Seb. 
A living Drolerie: 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.  Ant. 
I'll believe both:  
And what does else want credit, come to me  
And I'll besworne 'tis true: Travellers ne'er did lie,  
Though fools at home condemn 'em.  Gon. 
If in Naples  
I should report this now, would they believe me?  
If I should say I saw such Islands;  
(For certes, these are people of the Island)  
Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note  
Their manners are more gentle, kind, then of  
Our humane generation you shall find  
Many, nay almost any.  Pro. 
Honest Lord,  
Thou hast said well: for some of you there present;  
Are worse than devils.  Al. 
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.  Pro. 
Praise in departing.  Fr. 
They vanished strangely.  Seb. 
No matter, since  
They have left their Viands behind; for we have stomaches.  
Wilt please you taste of what is here▪  Ale. 
Not I  Gon. 
Faith Sir, you need not fear when we were Boys  
Who would believe that there were Mountayneeres,  
Dew-lapt, 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 butter out of five for one, will bring us  
Good warrant of.  Al. 
I will stand to, and feed,  
Although my last, no matter, since I feel  
The best is past: brother: my Lord, the Duke,  
Stand too, and do as we.  Thunder and Lightning. Enter ariel (like a Harpey) claps his wings upon the Table, and with a quiet device the Banquet vanishes. Ar. 
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: you fools, I and my fellows  
Are ministers of Fate, the Elements  
Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well  
Wound the loud winds, or with bemockt-at-Stabs  
Kill the still closing waters, as diminish  
One dowl that's in my plumb: 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 requited 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 hearts-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. Pro. 
Bravely the figure of this Harpy, hast thou  
Performed (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 drowned)  
And his, and mine loved darling.  Gon. 
I' th' name of something holy, Sir, why stand you  
In this strange stare?  Al. 
O, it is monstrous: monstrous:  
Me thought 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 base my Trespass,  
Therefore my Son i' th' Ooze is bedded; and  
I'll seek him deeper than ere plummet sounded,  
And with him there lie mudded.  Exit. Seb. 
But one fiend at a time,  
I'll fight their Legions over.  Ant. 
I'll be thy Second.  Exeunt. Gon. 
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.  Ad. 
Fellow, I pray you.  Exeunt omnes.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda. Pro. 
If I have too austerely punished 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 of,  
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise  
And make it halt, behind her.  Fer. 
I do believe it  
Against an Oracle.  Pro. 
Then, as my guest, 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 right, be ministered,  
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall  
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,  
Sower-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.  Fer. 
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 strongest suggestion,  
Our worse 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 foundered,  
Or Night kept chained below.  Pro. 
Fairly spoke;  
Sat then, and talk with her, she is thine own;  
What ariel; my industrious servant ariel.  Enter ariel. Ar. 
What would my potent master? here I am.  Pro. 
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 pour) 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.  Ar. 
Presently?  Pro. 
I: with a twink.  Ar. 
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?  Pro. 
Dear, my delicate ariel: do not approach  
Till thou dost hear me call.  Ar. 
Well: I conceive.  Exit. Pro. 
Look thou be true: do not give dalliance  
Too much the reign: the strongest oaths, are straw  
To th' fire i'th' blood: be more abstenious,  
Or else good night your vow.  Fer. 
I warrant you, Sir,  
The white cold virgin Snow, upon my heart  
Abates the ardour of my Liver.  Pro. 
Well.  
Now come my ariel, bring a Corolary,  
Rather than want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.  Soft music. 
No tongue: all eyes: be silent.  Enter Iris. Ir. 
Ceres, most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas  
Of Wheat, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oats and Pease;  
Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where live nibbling Sheep,  
And flat Medes thetchd 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; & thy broome-groves;  
Whose shadow the dismissed Bachelor love's,  
Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt vineyard,  
And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard,  
Where thou thyself dost air, the Queen o' th' Sky,  
Whose watery Arch, and messenger, am I.  
Bids thee leave these, & with her sovereign grace,  juno descends. 
Here on this grassplot, in this very place  
To come, and sport: here Peacocks fly amain:  
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.  Enter Ceres. Cer. 
Hail, many-coloured 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 unshrubd down,  
Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queen  
Summoned me hither, to this short grased Greene?  Ir. 
A contract of true Love, to celebrate,  
And some donation freely to estate  
On the blessed Lovers.  Cer. 
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-Boyes scandald company,  
I have forsworn.  Ir. 
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 in vain,  
Mars' 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.  Cer. 
Highest Queen of State,  
Great juno comes, I know her by her gate.  Iu. 
How does my bounteous sister? go with me  
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,  
And honoured in their Issue.  They Sing. Iu. 

Honour, riches, marriage, blessing,  
Long continuance, and increasing,  
Hourly joys, be still upon you,  
juno sings her blessings on you.  
Earth's increase, foyzon plenty,  
Barnes, and Garners, never empty.  
Vines, with clustering bunches growing,  
Plants, wtth goodly burden 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.   Fer. 
This is a most majestic vision, and  
Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold  
To think these spirits?  Pro. 
Spirits, which by mine Art  
I have from their confines called to enact  
My present fancies.  Fer. 
Let me live here ever,  
So rare a wondered Father, and a wise  
Makes this place Paradise.  Pro. 
Sweet now, silence:  
juno and Ceres whisper seriously,  
There's something else to do: hush, and be mute  
Or else our spell is marred.  juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment. Iris. 
You Nymphs called Naiads of the windering brooks,  
With your sedged crowns, and ever-harmelesse looks,  
Leave your crisp channels, and on this greene-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 Sunburned Sicklemen of August weary,  
Come hither from the furrow, and be merry,  
Make holly day: 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. Pro. 
I had forgot that foul conspiracy  
Of the beast Calliban, and his confederates  
Against my life: the minute of their plot  
Is almost come: Well done, avoid: no more.  Fer. 
This is strange: your fathers in some passion  
That works him strongly.  Mir. 
Never till this day  
Saw I him touched with anger, so distempered.  Pro. 
You do look (my son) in a moved sort,  
As if you were dismayed: 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 baselesse fabric of this vision  
The Clowd-capt Towers, the gorgeous Palaces,  
The solemn Temples, the great Globe itself,  
Yea, 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 vexed,  
Bear with my weakness, my old brain is troubled:  
Be not disturbed 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.  Fer. Mir. 
We wish your peace.  Exit. Pro. 
Come with a thought; I thank thee ariel: come.  Enter ariel. Ar. 
Thy thoughts I cleave to, what's thy pleasure?  Pro. 
Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban.  Ar. 
I my Commander, when I presented Ceres  
I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared  
Lest I might anger thee.  Pro. 
Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?  Ar. 
I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking,  
So full 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 Tabor,  
At which like vnbacked colts they pricked their ears,  
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses  
As they smelled music, so I charmed their ears  
That Calfe-like, they my lowing followed, through  
Toothed briers, sharp firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns,  
Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them  
I' th' filthy mantled pool beyond your Cell,  
There dancing up to th' chins, that the fowl Lake  
Ore-stunck their feet.  Pro. 
This was well done (my bird)  
Thy shape invisible retain thou still:  
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither  
For stolen to catch these thiefs.  Ar. 
I go, I go.  Exit. Pro. 
A Devil, a borne-devill, on whose nature  
Nurture can never stick: on whom my pains  
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost,  
And, as with age, his body ouglier grows,  
So his mind cankers: I will plague them all,  
Even to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.  Enter ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, etc. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet. Cal. 
Pray you tread softly, that the blind Mole may not hear a foot fall: we now are near his Cell.  St. 
Monster, your Fairy, which you say is a harmless Fairy,  
Has done little better than played the lack with us.  Trin. 
Monster, I do smell all horsepisse, at which  
My nose is in great indignation.  Ste. 
So is mine. Do you hear Monster: If I should  
Take a displeasure against you: Look you.  Trin. 
Thou wert but a lost Monster.  Cal. 
Good my Lord, give me thy favour still,  
Be patiented, for the prize I'll bring thee too  
Shall hud wink this mischance: therefore speak softly,  
All's hushed as midnight yet.  Trin. 
I, but to lose our bottles in the Pool.  Ste. 
There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that Monster, but an infinite loss.  Tr. 
That's more to me then my wetting:  
Yet this is your harmless Fairy, Monster.  Ste. 
I will fetch off my bottle,  
Though I be o'er ears for my labour.  Cal. 
Prithee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou here  
This is the mouth o' th' 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.  Ste. 
Give me thy hand,  
I do begin to have bloody thoughts.  Trin. 
O King Stephano, O Peer: O worthy Stephano,  
Look what a wardrobe here is for thee.  Cal. 
Let it alone thou fool, it is but trash.  Tri. 
Oh, ho, Monster: we know what belongs to a frippery, O King Stephano.  Ste. 
Put off that gown (Trinculo) by this hand I'll have that gown.  Tri. 
Thy grace shall have it.  Cal. 
The dropsy drown this fool, 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.  Ste. 
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, & prove a bald jerkin.  Trin. 
Do, do; we steal by line and level, an't like your grace.  Ste. 
I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't: Wit shall not go un-rewarded while I am King of this Country: Steal by line and level, is an excellent pass of pate: there's another garment for't.  Tri. 
Monster, come put some Lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest.  Cal. 
I will have none on't: we shall lose our time,  
And all be turned to Barnacles, or to Apes  
With foreheads villainous low.  Ste. 
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.  Tri. 
And this.  Ste. 
I, and this.  A noise of Hunters heard. Enter diverse Spirits in shape of Dogs and Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on. Pro. 
hay Mountain, hay.  Ari. 
Silver: there it goes, Silver.  Pro. 
Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: hark, hark.  
Go, charge my Goblins that they grind their joints  
With dry Convultions, shorten up their sinews  
With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them,  
Then Pared, or Cat o' Mountain.  Ari. 
Hark, they roar.  Pro. 
Let them be hunted sound: At this hour  
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies:  
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou  
Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little  
Fellow, and do me service.  Exeunt.   

Actus quintus:  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Prospero (in his Magic robes) and Ariel. Pro. 
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?  Ar. 
On the sixth hour, at which time, my Lord  
You said our work should cease.  Pro. 
I did say so,  
When first I raised the Tempest: say my Spirit,  
How fares the King, and's followers?  Ar. 
Confined together  
In the same fashion, as you gave in charge,  
Just as you left them; all prisoner's 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,  
Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chief  
Him that you termed Sir, the good old Lord Gonzallo,  
His tears runs down his beard like winter's drops  
From eaveses of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em  
That if you now beheld them, your affections  
Would become tender.  Pro. 
Dost thou think so, Spirit?  Ar. 
Mine would, Sir, were I humane.  Pro. 
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 th' quick,  
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury  
Do I take part: the rarer Action is  
In virtue, then 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.  Ar. 
I'll fetch them, Sir.  Exit. Pro. 
Ye Elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes & groves,  
And ye, that on the sands with printless foot  
Do chase the ebbing- Neptune, and do fly him  
When he comes back: you demy-Puppets, that  
By Moonshine do the green sour Ringlets make,  
Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime  
Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that rejoice  
To hear the solemn Curfewe, by whose aid  
(Weak Masters though ye be) I have bedymned  
The Noontide Sun, called 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 bassed promontory  
Have I made shake, and by the spurs plucked up  
The Pine, and Cedar. Graves at my command  
Have waked their sleepers, opened, 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 Ayrie-charme 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. here enters Ariel before: Then Alonso with a frantic gesture, attended by Gonzalo. Sebastian and Anthonio 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 within thy skull: there stand  
For you are Spell-stopt.  
Holy Gonzallo, 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 Gonzallo  
My true preserver, and a loyal Sir,  
To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy grace's  
Home both in word, and deed: Most cruelly  
Did thou Alonso, use me, and my daughter:  
Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act,  
Thou art pinched for't now Sebastian. Flesh, and blood,  
You, brother mine, that entertain ambition,  
Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with Sebastian  
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong)  
Would here have killed your King: I do forgive thee,  
Unnatural though thou art: Their understanding  
Gins to swell, and the approaching tide  
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore  
That now lie 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 Cowslips bell, I lie,  
There I couch when Owls do cry,  
On the Bats back I do fly after Summer merrily.  
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,  
Under the blossom that hangs on the Bow.   Pro. 
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.  Ar. 
I drink the air before me, and return  
Or ere your pulse twice beat.  Exit. Gon. 
All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement  
Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us  
Out of this fearful Country.  Pro. 
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.  Alo. 
Where thou be'st 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,  
Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which  
I fear a madness held me▪ this must crave  
(And 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?  Pro. 
First, noble Friend,  
Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot  
Be measured, or confined.  Gonz. 
Whether this be,  
Or be not, I'll not swear.  Pro. 
You do yet taste  
Some subtleties o' th' Isle, that will not let you  
Believe things certain: Welcome, my friends all,  
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.  Seb. 
The Devil speaks in him:  Pro. 
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.  Alo. 
If thou be'st Prospero  
Give us particulars of thy preservation,  
How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since  
Were wracked upon this shore? where I have lost  
(How sharp the point of this remembrance is)  
My dear son Ferdinand.  Pro. 
I am woe for't, Sir.  Alo. 
Irreparable is the loss, and patience  
Says, it is passed her cure.  Pro. 
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.  Alo. 
You the like loss?  Pro. 
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.  Alo. 
A daughter?  
Oh heavens, that they were living both in Nalpes  
The King and Queen there, that they were, I wish  
Myself were mudded in that oo-zie bed  
Where my son lies: when did you lose your daughter?  Pro. 
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 howsoeu'r 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 wracked) 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 Cells 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 Chessei. Mir. 
Sweet Lord, you play me false.  Fer. 
No my dearest love,  
I would not for the world.  Mir. 
Yes, for a score of Kingdoms, you should wrangle,  
And I would call it fair play.  Alo. 
If this prove  
A vision of the Island, one dear Son  
Shall I twice lose.  Seb. 
A most high miracle.  Fer. 
Though the Seas threaten they are merciful,  
I have cursed them without cause.  Alo. 
Now all the blessings  
Of a glad father, compass thee about:  
Arise, and say how thou cam'st here.  Mir. 
O wonder!  
How many goodly creatures are there here?  
How beauteous mankind is? O brave new world  
That has such people in't.  Pro. 
'Tis new to thee.  Alo. 
What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at play?  
Your eldest acquaintance cannot be three hours:  
Is she the goddess that hath severed us,  
And brought us thus together?  Fer. 
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.  Alo. 
I am hers.  
But O, how oddly will it sound, that I  
Must ask my child forgiveness?  Pro. 
There Sir stop,  
Let us not burden our remembrances, with  
A heaviness that's gone.  Gon. 
I have inly wept,  
Or should have spoke ere this: look down you gods  
And on this couple drop a blessed crown;  
For it is you, that have chalked forth the way  
Which brought us hither.  Alo. 
I say Amen, Gonzallo.  Gon. 
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 Claribell 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.  Alo. 
Give me your hands:  
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart,  
That doth not wish you joy.  Gon. 
Be it so, Amen.  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 swearest Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore,  
Hast thou no mouth by land?  
What is the news?  Bot. 
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 tyte, and you're, and bravely rigged, as when  
We first put out to Sea.  Ar. 
Sir, all this service  
Have I done since I went.  Pro. 
My tricksy Spirit.  Alo. 
These are not natural evens, they strengthen  
From strange, to stranger: say, how came you hither?  Bot. 
If I did think, Sir, I were well awake,  
I'd strive to tell you: we were dead of sleep,  
And (how we know not) all clapped under hatches,  
Where, but even now, with strange, and several noises  
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains,  
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible.  
We were awaked: strait way, at liberty;  
Where we, in all our 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.  Ar. 
Was't well done?  Pro. 
Bravely (my diligence) thou shalt be free.  Alo. 
This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod,  
And there is in this business, more than nature  
Was ever conduct of: some Oracle  
Must rectify our knowledge.  Pro. 
Sir, my Liege,  
Do not infest your mind, with beating on  
The strangeness of this business, at picked leisure  
(Which shall be shortly single) I'll resolve you,  
(Which to you shall seem probable) of every  
These happened accidents: till when, be cheerful  
And think of each thing well: Come hither Spirit,  
Set Caliban, and his companions free:  
Untie the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir?  
There are yet missing of your Company  
Some few odd Lads, that you remember not.  Enter ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their stolen Apparel. Ste. 
Every man shift for all the rest, and let  
No man take care for himself; for all is  
But fortune: Coragio Bully-Monster Corasio.  Tri. 
If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight.  Cal. 
O Setebos, these be brave Spirits indeed:  
How fine my Master is? I am afraid  
He will chastise me.  Seb. 
Ha', ha':  
What things are these, my Lord Anthonio?  
Will money buy 'em?  Ant. 
Very like: one of them  
Is a plain Fish, and no doubt marketable.  Pro. 
Mark but the badges of these men, my Lords,  
Then say if they be true: This misshapen knave;  
His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong  
That could control the Moon; make flows, and ebs,  
And deal in her command, without her power:  
These three have robbed me, and this demy-divell;  
(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, I  
Acknowledge mine.  Cal. 
I shall be pinched to death.  Alo. 
Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler?  Seb. 
He is drunk now;  
Where had he wine?  Alo. 
And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they  
Find this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em?  
How cam'st thou in this pickle?  Tri. 
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.  Seb. 
Who how now Stephano?  Ste. 
O touch me not, I am not Stephano, but a Cramp.  Pro. 
You'd be King o' the Isle, Sirrah?  Ste. 
I should have been a sore one then.  Alo. 
This is a strange thing as ere I looked on.  Pro. 
He is as disproportioned 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.  Cal. 
I 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?  Pro. 
Go to, away.  Alo. 
Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.  Seb. 
Or stole it rather.  Pro. 
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 deere-beloued, solemnised,  
And thence retire me to my Milan, where  
Every third thought shall be my grave.  Alo. 
I long  
To hear the story of your life; which must  
Take the ear starngely.  Pro. 
I'll deliver all,  
And promise you calm Seas, auspicious gales,  
And sail, so expeditious, that shall catch  
Your Royal fleet fare off: My Ariel; chick  
That is thy charge: Then to the Elements  
Be free, and far thou well: please you draw near.  Exeunt omnes.   

EPILOGUE, spoken by Prospero.  
NOw my Charms are all o'erthrown,  
And what strength I haue'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 pardoned 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 pardoned be,  
Let your Indulgence set me free.  Exit.  

The Scene, an un-inhabited Island Names of the Actors.  

Alonso, K. of Naples:  
Sebastian his Brother.  
Prospero, the right Duke of Milan.  
Anthonio his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan.  
Ferdinand, Son to the King of Naples.  
Gonzalo, an honest old Councillor.  
Adrian, & Francisco, Lords.  
Caliban, a salvage and deformed slave.  
Trinculo, a jester.  
Stephano, a drunken Butler.  
Master of a Ship.  
Boatswain.  
Mariners.  
Miranda, daughter to Prospero.  
ariel, an airy spirit.  
Iris Spirits.  
Ceres' Spirits.  
juno Spirits.  
Nymph's Spirits.  
Reaper's Spirits.    
FINIS.   

THE Two Gentlemen of Verona.  

Actus primus,  

Scena prima.  Valentine: Protheus, and Speed. Valentine. 
CEase to persuade▪ my loving Protheus;  
Home-keeping youth; have ever homely wits,  
Were't not affection chains thy tender days  
To the sweet glances of thy honoured Love,  
I rather would entreat thy company,  
To see the wonders of the world abroad,  
Then (living dully sluggardized at home)  
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.  
But since thou lov'st; love still, and thrive therein,  
Even as I would, when I to love begin.  Pro. 
Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine ad ewe,  
Think on thy Protheus, when thou (haply) seest  
Some rare noteworthy object in thy travail.  
With 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.  Val. 
And on a love-booke pray for my success?  Pro. 
Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee.  Val. 
That's on some shallow Story of deep love,  
How young Leander crossed the Hellespont.  Pro. 
That's a deep Story, of a deeper love,  
For he was more than overshooes in love.  Val. 
'Tis true; for you are over-bootes in love,  
And yet you never swom the Hellespont.  Pro. 
Over the Boots? nay give me not the Boots.  Val. 
No, I will not; for it boots thee not.  Pro. 
What?  Val. 
To be in love; where scorn is bought with groans:  
Coy looks, with hart-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;  
How ever: but a folly bought with wit,  
Or else a wit, by folly vanquished.  Pro. 
So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.  Val. 
So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove.  Pro. 
'Tis Love you cavil at, I am not Love..  Val. 
Love is your master, for he masters you;  
And he that is so yoked by a fool,  
Me thinks should not be chronicled for wise.  Pro. 
Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud,  
The eating Canker dwells; so eating Love  
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.  Val. 
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 turned 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 shipped.  Pro. 
And thither will I bring thee Valentine.  Val. 
Sweet Protheus, 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 I likewise will visit thee with mine.  Pro. 
All happiness be chance to thee in Milan.  Val. 
As much to you at home: and so farewell.  Exit. Pro. 
He after Honour hunts, I after Love;  
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more;  
I love myself, my friends, and all for love:  
Thou julia▪ thou hast metamorphized me:  
Made me neglect my Studies, lose my time;  
War with good counsel; set the world at nought;  
Made Wit with musing, weak; hart sick with thought.  Sp. 
Sir Protheus: ' save you: saw you my Master?  Pro. 
But now he parted hence to embark for Milan.  Sp. 
Twenty to one then, he is shipped already,  
And I have played the Sheep in losing him.  Pro. 
Indeed a Sheep doth very often stray,  
And if the Shepherd be awhile away.  Sp. 
You conclude that my Master is a Shepherd then, and I Sheep?  Pro. 
I do.  Sp. 
Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.  Pro. 
A silly answer, and fitting well a Sheep.  Sp. 
This proves me still a Sheep.  Pro. 
True: and thy Master a Shepherd.  Sp. 
Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.  Pro. 
It shall go hard but i'll prove it by another.  Sp. 
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.  Pro. 
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.  Sp. 
Such another proof will make me cry baâ.  Pro. 
But dost thou hear: gav'st thou my Letter to julia?  Sp. 
I Sir: I (a lost-Mutton) gave your Letter to her (a lac'd-Mutton) and she (a lac'd-Mutton) gave me (a lost-Mutton) nothing for my labour.  Pro. 
Here's too small a Pasture for such store of Muttons.  Sp. 
If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her.  Pro. 
Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound you.  Sp. 
Nay Sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your Letter.  Pro. 
You mistake; I mean the pound, a Pinfold.  Sp. 
From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over,  
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover  Pro. 
But what said she?  Sp. 
I.  Pro. 
Nodi, why that's noddy.  Sp. 
You mistook Sir: I say she did nod;  
And you ask me if she did nod, and I say I  Pro. 
And that set together is noddy.  Sp. 
Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains.  Pro. 
No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.  Sp. 
Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.  Pro. 
Why Sir, how do you bear with me?  Sp. 
Marry Sir, the letter very orderly,  
Having nothing but the word noddy for my pains.  Pro. 
Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.  Sp. 
And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.  Pro. 
Come, come, open the matter in brief; what said she.  Sp. 
Open your purse, that the money, and the matter may be both at once delivered.  Pro. 
Well Sir: here is for your pains: what said she?  Sp. 
Truly Sir, I think you'll hardly win her.  Pro. 
Why? couldst thou perceive so much from her?  Sp. 
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.  Pro. 
What said she, nothing?  Sp. 
No, not so much as take this for thy pains:  
To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have cesterned me;  
In requital whereof, henceforth, carry your letters yourself; And so Sir, I'll commend you to my Master.  Pro. 
Go, go, be gone, to save your Ship from wrack,  
Which cannot perish having thee aboarde,  
Being destined to a drier death on shore:  
I must go send some better Messenger,  
I fear my julia would not deign my lines,  
Receiving them from such a worthless post.  Exit.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter julia and Lucetta. jul. 
But say Lucetta (now we are alone)  
Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?  Luc. 
I Madam, so you stumble not on heedfully.  jul. 
Of all the fair rests of Gentlemen,  
That every day with par'd● encounter me,  
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?  Lu. 
Please you repeat their names, i'll show my mind,  
According to my shallow simple skill.  Iu. 
What thinkest thou of the fair sir Eglamoure?  Lu. 
As of a Knight, well-spoken, neat, and fine;  
But were I you, he never should be mine.  Iu. 
What thinkest thou of the rich Mercatio?  Lu. 
Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so.  Iu. 
What thinkest thou of the gentle Protheus?  Lu. 
Lord, Lord: to see what folly reigns in us.  Iu. 
How now? what means this passion at his name?  Lu. 
Pardon dear Madam, 'tis a passing shame,  
That I (unworthy body as I am)  
Should censure thus on lovely Gentlemen.  Iu. 
Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest?  Lu. 
Then thus: of many good, I think him best.  jul. 
Your reason?  Lu. 
I have no other but a woman's reason:  
I think him so, because I think him so.  jul. 
And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?  Lu. 
I: if you thought your love not cast away.  jul. 
Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me.  Lu. 
Yet he, of all the rest, I think best loves ye.  jul. 
His little speaking, shows his love but small.  Lu. 
Fire that's closest kept, burns most of all.  jul. 
They do not love, that do not show their love.  Lu. 
Oh, they love least, that let men know their love.  jul. 
I would I knew his mind.  Lu. 
Peruse this paper Madam.  jul. 
To julia: say, from whom?  Lu. 
That the Contents will show.  jul. 
Say, say: who gave it thee?  Lu. 
Sir Valentine's page: & sent I think from Protheus;  
He would have given it you, but I being in the way,  
Did in your name receive it: pardon the fault I pray.  jul. 
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:  
There: take the paper: see it be returned,  
Or else return no more into my sight.  Lu. 
To plead for love, deserves more fee, than hate.  jul. 
Will ye be gone?  Lu. 
That you may ruminate.  Exit. jul. 
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 ' fool is she, that knowes 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, I.  
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 angrily 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.  Lu. 
What would your Ladyship?  jul. 
Is't near dinner time?  Lu. 
I would it were,  
That you might kill your stomach on your meat,  
And not upon your Maid.  Iu. 
What is't that you  
took up so gingerly?  Lu. 
Nothing.  Iu. 
Why didst thou stoop then?  Lu. 
To take a paper up, that I let fall.  jul. 
And is that paper nothing?  Lu. 
Nothing concerning me.  jul. 
Then let it lie, for those that it concerns.  Lu. 
Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,  
Unless it have a false Interpreter.  jul. 
Some love of yours, hath writ to you in Rhyme.  Lu. 
That I might sing it (Madam) to a tune:  
Give me a Note, your Ladyship can set  jul. 
As little by such toys, as may be possible:  
Best sing it to the tune of Light O, Love..  Lu. 
It is too heavy for so light a tune.  Iu. 
Heavy? belike it hath some burden then?  Lu. 
I: and melodious were it, would you sing it,  Iu. 
And why not you?  Lu. 
I cannot reach so high.  Iu. 
Let's see your Song:  
How now Minion?  Lu. 
Keep tune there still; so you will sing it out:  
And yet me thinks I do not like this tune.  Iu. 
You do not?  Lu. 
No (Madam) 'tis too sharp.  Iu. 
You (Minion) are too saucy.  Lu. 
Nay, now you are too flat;  
And mar the concord, with too harsh a descant:  
There wanteth but a Mean to fill your Song.  Iu. 
The mean is drowned with you unruly base.  Lu. 
Indeed I bid the base for Protheus.  Iu. 
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me;  
Here is a coil with protestation:  
Go, get you gone: and let the papers lie:  
You would be fingering them, to anger me.  Lu. 
She makes it strange, but she would be best pleased  
To be so angered with another Letter.  Iu. 
Nay, would I were so angered with the same:  
Oh 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 bruzing-stones,  
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.  
And here is writ, Love wounded Protheus.  
Poor wounded name: my bosom, as a bed,  
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly healed;  
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.  
But twice, or thrice, was Protheus 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 Protheus, passionate Protheus:  
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 upon another;  
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.  Lu. 
Madam: dinner is ready: and your father stays.  Iu. 
Well, let us go.  Lu. 
What, shall these papers lie, like Tell-tales here?  Iu. 
If you respect them; best to take them up.  Lu. 
Nay, I was taken up, for laying them down.  
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.  Iu. 
I see you have a month's mind to them.  Lu. 
I (Madam) you may say what sights you see;  
I see things too, although you judge I wink.  Iu. 
Come, come, wilt please you go.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Antonio and Panthino. Protheus. Ant. 
Tell me Panthino, what sad talk was that,  
Wherewith my brother held you in the Cloister?  Pan. 
'Twas of his Nephew Protheus, your Son.  Ant. 
Why? what of him?  Pan. 
He wondered 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 fare away:  
Some, to the studious Universities;  
For any, or for all these exercises,  
He said, that Protheus, 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 travail in his youth.  Ant. 
Nor needest thou much importune me to that  
Whereon, this month I have been hamering.  
I have considered well, his loss of time,  
And how he cannot be a perfect man,  
Not being tried, and tutored in the world:  
Experience is by industry achieved,  
And perfected by the swift course of time:  
Then tell me, whether were I best to send him?  Pan. 
I think your Lordship is not ignorant  
How his companion, youthful Valentine,  
Attends the Emperor in his royal Court.  Ant. 
I know it well.  Pan. 
'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.  Ant. 
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 Emperors Court.  Pan. 
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.  Ant. 
Good company: with them shall Protheus go:  
And in good time: now will we break with him.  Pro. 
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.  Pro. 
Oh heavenly julia.  Ant. 
How now? What Letter are you reading there?  Pro. 
May't please your Lordship, 'tis a word or two  
Of commendations sent from Valentine;  
Delivered by a friend, that came from him.  Ant. 
Lend me the Letter: Let me see what news.  Pro. 
There is no news (my Lord) but that he writes  
How happily he life's, how well-beloved,  
And daily graced by the Emperor;  
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.  Ant. 
And how stand you affected to his wish?  Pro. 
As one relying on your Lordship's will,  
And not depending on his friendly wish.  Ant. 
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.  Pro. 
My Lord I cannot be so soon provided,  
Please you deliberate a day or two.  Ant. 
Look what thou want'st shallbe sent after thee:  
No more of stay: to morrow thou must go;  
Come on Panthino; you shall be employed,  
To hasten on his Expedition.  Pro. 
Thus have I shunned the fire, for fear of burning,  
And drenched me in the sea, where I am drowned.  
I feared to show my Father julias' Letter,  
Lest he should take exceptions to my love,  
And with the vantage of mine own excuse  
Hath he excepted most against my love.  
Oh, 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.  Pan. 
Sir Protheus, your Fathers calls for you,  
He is in haste, therefore I pray you go.  Pro. 
Why this it is: my heart accords thereto,  
And yet a thousand times it answers no.  Exeunt.  
Finis.   

Actus secundus:  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Valentine, Speed, Silvia. Speed. 
Sir, your Glove.  Valen. 
Not mine: my Gloves are on.  Sp. 
Why then this may be yours: for this is but one.  Val. 
Ha'? Let me see: I, give it me, it's mine:  
Sweet Ornament, that decks a thing divine,  
Ah Silvia, Silvia.  Speed. 
Madam Silvia: Madam Silvia.  Val. 
How now Sirrah?  Speed. 
She is not within hearing Sir.  Val. 
Why sir, who had you call her?  Speed. 
Your worship s●, or else I mistook.  Val. 
Well: you'll still be too forward.  Speed. 
And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.  Val. 
Go to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Silvia?  Speed. 
She that your worship love's?  Val. 
Why, how know you that I am in love?  Speed. 
Marry by these special marks: first, you have learned (like Sir Protheus) to wreathe your Arms like a Malcontent: to relish a Lovesong, like a Robin-red-breast: to walk alone like one that had the pestilence: to sigh, like a Schoolboy 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 Hallowmasse: 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 Metamorphized with a Mistress, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my Master.  Val. 
Are all these things perceived in me?  Speed. 
They are all perceived without ye.  Val. 
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.  Val. 
But tell me: dost thou know my Lady Silvia?  Speed. 
She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?  Val. 
Hast thou observed that? even she I mean.  Speed. 
Why sir, I know her not.  Val. 
Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowst her not?  Speed. 
Is she not hard-favoured, sir?  Val. 
Not so fair (boy) as well favoured.  Speed. 
Sir, I know that well enough.  Val. 
What dost thou know?  Speed. 
That she is not so fair, as (of you) well-favourd?  Val. 
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.  Val. 
How painted? and how out of count?  Speed. 
Marry sir, so painted to make her fair, that no man counts of her beauty.  Val. 
How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.  Speed. 
You never saw her since she was deformed.  Val. 
How long hath she been deformed?  Speed. 
Ever since you loved her.  Val. 
I have loved her ever since I saw her,  
And still I see her beautiful.  Speed. 
If you love her, you cannot see her.  Val. 
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 Protheus, for going vngartered.  Val. 
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.  Val. 
Belike (boy) than 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.  Val. 
In conclusion, I stand affected to her.  Speed. 
I would you were set, so your affection would cease.  Val. 
Last night she enjoined me,  
To write some lines to one she love's.  Speed. 
And have you?  Val. 
I have.  Speed. 
Are they not lamely writ?  Val. 
No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:  
Peace, here she comes.  Speed. 
Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet:  
Now will he interpret to her.  Val. 
Madam & Mistress, a thousand good-morrows.  Speed. 
Oh, ' give ye-good-ev'n: here's a million of manners.  Sil. 
Sir Valentine, and servant, to you two thousand.  Speed. 
He should give her interest: & she gives it him.  Val. 
As you injoind 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.  Sil. 
I thank you (gentle Servant) 'tis very Clerkly-done.  Val. 
Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off:  
For being ignorant to whom it goes,  
I writ at random, very doubtfully.  Sil. 
Perchance you think too much of so much pains?  Val. 
No (Madam) so it steed you I will write (Please you command) a thousand times as much: And yet—  Sil. 
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. 
And yet you will: and yet, another yet.  Val. 
What means your Ladyship?  
Do you not like it?  Sil. 
Yes, yes: the lines are very quaintly writ,  
But (since unwillingly) take them again.  
Nay, take them.  Val. 
Madam, they are for you.  Silu. 
I, I: 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:  Val. 
Please you, I'll write your Ladyship another.  Sil. 
And when it's writ: for my sake read it over,  
And if it please you, so: if not: why so:  Val. 
If it please me, (Madam?) what then?  Sil. 
Why if it please you, take it for your labour;  
And so good-morrow Servant.  Exit. Sil. Speed. 
Oh jest unseen: inscrutible: 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.  
Oh excellent devise, was there ever heard a better?  
That my master being scribe,  
To himself should write the Letter?  Val. 
How now Sir?  
What are you reasoning with yourself?  Speed. 
Nay: I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason.  Val. 
To do what?  Speed. 
To be a Spokesman from Madam Silvia.  Val. 
To whom?  Speed. 
To yourself: why, she woos you by a figure.  Val. 
What figure?  Speed. 
By a Letter, I should say.  Val. 
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?  Val. 
No, believe me.  Speed. 
No believing you indeed sir:  
But did you perceive her earnest?  Val. 
She gave me none, except an angry word.  Speed. 
Why she hath given you a Letter.  Val. 
That's the Letter I writ to her friend.  Speed. 
And that letter hath she delivered, & there an end.  Val. 
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.  Val. 
I have dined.  Speed. 
I, but harken sir: though the Chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals; and would fain have meat: oh be not like your Mistress, be moved, be moved.  Exeunt.  

Scoena secunda.  Enter Protheus, julia, Panthion. Pro. 
Have patience, gentle julia:  jul. 
I must where is no remedy.  Pro. 
When possibly I can, I will return.  jul. 
If you turn not: you will return the sooner:  
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.  Pro. 
Why then we'll make exchange;  
Here, take you this.  jul. 
And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.  Pro. 
Here is my hand, for my true constancy:  
And when that hour ore-slips 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: what, gone without a word?  
I, so true love should do: it cannot speak,  
For truth hath better deeds, than words to grace it.  Panth. 
Sir Protheus: you are stayed for.  Pro. 
Go: I come, I come:  
Alas, this parting strikes poor Lovers dumb.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Lance, Panthion. Lance. 
Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping: all the kind of the lances, have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the prodigious Son, and am going with Sir Protheus to the imperials Court: I think Crab my dog, be the sourest natured dog that life's: My Mother weeping: my Father wailing: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our Cat wring 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 then 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 worse sole: this shoe with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father: a vengeance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, 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: I; 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: Oh that she could speak now, like a would-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.  Panth. 
Lance, away, away: a Board: thy Master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars; what's the matter? why weep'st thou man? away ass, you'll lose the Tide, if you tarry any longer.  Laun. 
It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the unkindest Tide, that ever any man tide.  Panth. 
What's the unkindest tide?  Lau. 
Why, he that's tied here, Crab my dog.  Pant. 
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?  Laun. 
For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue.  Panth. 
Where should I lose my tongue?  Laun. 
In thy Tale.  Panth. 
In thy Tail.  Laun. 
Lose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Master, and the Service, and the tide: 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.  Panth. 
Come: come away man, I was sent to call thee.  Lau. 
Sir: call me what thou darest.  Pant. 
Wilt thou go?  Laun. 
Well, I will go.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus. Sil. 
Servant.  Val. 
Mistress.  Spee. 
Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.  Val. 
I Boy, it's for love.  Spee. 
Not of you.  Val. 
Of my Mistress then.  Spee. 
'Twere good you knocked him.  Sil. 
Servant, you are sad.  Val. 
Indeed, Madam, I seem so.  Thu. 
Seem you that you are not?  Val. 
Haply I do.  Thu. 
So do Counterfeyts.  Val. 
So do you.  Thu. 
What seem I that I am not?  Val. 
Wise.  Thu. 
What instance of the contrary?  Val. 
Your folly.  Thu. 
And how quote you my folly?  Val. 
I quote it in your jerkin.  Thu. 
My jerkin is a doublet.  Val. 
Well then, I'll double your folly.  Thu. 
How?  Sil. 
What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour?  Val. 
Give him leave, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion.  Thu. 
That hath more mind to feed on your blood, then live in your air.  Val. 
You have said Sir.  Thu. 
I Sir, and done too for this time.  Val. 
I know it well sir, you always end ere you begin.  Sil. 
A fine volley of words, gentlemen, & quickly shot off  Val. 
'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giver.  Sil. 
Who is that Servant?  Val. 
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  Thu. 
Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.  Val. 
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.  Sil. 
No more, gentlemen, no more:  
Here comes my father.  Duk. 
Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.  
Sir Valentine, your father is in good health,  
What say you to a Letter from your friends  
Of much good news?  Val. 
My Lord, I will be thankful,  
To any happy messenger from thence.  Duk. 
Know ye Don Antonio, your Countryman?  Val. 
I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman  
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,  
And not without desert so well reputed.  Duk. 
Hath he not a Son?  Val. 
I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserves  
The honour, and regard of such a father.  Duk. 
You know him well?  Val. 
I knew 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 Angellike perfection:  
Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name)  
Made use, and fair advantage of his days:  
His years but young, but his experience old:  
His head un-mellowed, but his judgement 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.  Duk. 
Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good  
He is as worthy for an Empress' love,  
As meet to be an Emperor's Councillor:  
Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me  
With Commendation from great Potentates,  
And here he means to spend his time a while,  
I think 'tis no un-welcome news to you.  Val. 
Should I have wished a thing, it had been he.  Duk. 
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.  Val. 
This is the Gentleman I told your Ladyship  
Had come along with me, but that his Mistress  
Did hold his eyes, locked in her Crystal looks.  Sil. 
Belike that now she hath enfranchised them  
Upon some other pawn for fealty.  Val. 
Nay sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.  Sil. 
Nay then he should be blind, and being blind  
How could he see his way to seek out you?  Val. 
Why Lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes.  Thur. 
They say that Love hath not an eye at all.  Val. 
To see such Lovers, Thurio, as yourself,  
Upon a homely object, Love can wink.  Sil. 
Have done, have done: here comes the gentleman.  Val. 
Welcome, dear Protheus: Mistress, I beseech you  
Confirm his welcome, with some special favour.  Sil. 
His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,  
If this be he you oft have wished to hear from.  Val. 
Mistress, it is: sweet Lady, entertain him  
To be my fellow-servant to your Ladyship.  Sil. 
Too low a Mistress for so high a servant.  Pro. 
Not so, sweet Lady, but too mean a servant  
To have a look of such a worthy a Mistress.  Val. 
Leave off discourse of disability:  
Sweet Lady, entertain him for your Servant.  Pro. 
My duty will I boast of, nothing else.  Sil. 
And duty never yet did want his meed.  
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless Mistress.  Pro. 
I'll die on him that says so but yourself.  Sil. 
That you are welcome?  Pro. 
That you are worthless.  Thur. 
Madam, my Lord your father would speak with you.  Sil. 
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 too hear from you.  Pro. 
we'll both attend upon your Ladyship.  Val. 
Now tell me: how do all from whence you came?  Pro. 
Your friends are well, & have them much commended.  Val. 
And how do yours?  Pro. 
I left them all in health.  Val. 
How does your Lady? & how thrives your love?  Pro. 
My tales of Love were wont to weary you,  
I know you joy not in a Love-discourse.  Val. 
I Protheus, but that life is altered now,  
I have done penance for contemning Love,  
Whose high imperious thoughts have punished me  
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,  
With nightly tears, and daily hart-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 Protheus, 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..  Pro. 
Enough; I read your fortune in your eye:  
Was this the Idol, that you worship so?  Val. 
Even She; and is she not a heavenly Saint?  Pro. 
No; But she is an earthly Paragon.  Val. 
Call her divine.  Pro. 
I will not flatter her.  Val. 
O flatter me: for Love delights in praises.  Pro. 
When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,  
And I must minister the like to you.  Val. 
Then speak the truth by her; if not divine,  
Yet let her be a principality,  
Sovereign to all the Creatures on the earth,  Pro. 
Except my Mistress.  Val. 
Sweet: except not any,  
Except thou wilt except against my Love..  Pro. 
Have I not reason to prefer mine own?  Val. 
And I will help thee to prefer her to:  
She shall be dignified with this high honour,  
To bear my Lady's train, left the base earth  
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,  
And of so great a favour growing proud,  
Disdain to root the Sommer-swelling flower,  
And make rough winter everlastingly.  Pro. 
Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this?  Val. 
Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,  
To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing;  
She is alone.  Pro. 
Then let her alone.  Val. 
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 seest 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 knowst is full of jealousy.)  Pro. 
But she love's you?  Val. 
I, and we are betroathd: 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 agreed on for my happiness.  
Good Protheus go with me to my chamber,  
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.  Pro. 
Go on before: I shall inquire you forth:  
I must unto the Road, to dis-embarque  
Some necessaries, that I needs must use,  
And then I'll presently attend you.  Val. 
Will you make haste?  Exit. Pro. 
I will.  
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,  
It is 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 thawed,  
Which like a waxed Image 'gainst a fire  
Bears no impression of the thing it was.)  
Me thinks my zeal to Valentine is cold,  
And that I love him not as I was wont:  
O, but I love his Lady tootoo 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 check my erring love, I will,  
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Speed and Lance. Speed. 
Lance, by mine honesty welcome to Milan.  Laun. 
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?  Lau. 
Marry after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.  Spee. 
But shall she marry him?  Lau. 
No.  Spee. 
How then? shall he marry her?  Lau. 
No, neither.  Spee. 
What, are they broken?  Lau. 
No; they are both as whole as a fish.  Spee. 
Why then, how stands the matter with them?  Lau. 
Marry thus, when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.  Spee. 
What an ass art thou, I understand thee not.  Lau. 
What a block art thou, that thou canst not?  
My staff understands me?  Spee. 
What thou sayest?  Lau. 
I, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me.  Spee. 
It stands under thee indeed.  Lau. 
Why, stand-under: and under-stand is all one.  Spee. 
But tell me true, wilt be a match?  Lau. 
Ask my dog, if he say I, it will: if he say no, it will: if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will.  Spee. 
The conclusion is then, that it will.  Lau. 
Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.  Spee. 
'Tis well that I get it so: but Lance, how sayest thou that that my master is become a notable Lover?  Lau. 
I never knew him otherwise.  Spee. 
Then how?  Lau. 
A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to be.  Spee. 
Why, thou whoreson Ass, thou mistak'st me,  Lau. 
Why Fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy Master.  Spee. 
I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Lover.  Lau. 
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.  Spee. 
Why?  Lau. 
Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the Ale with a Christian: Wilt thou go?  Spee. 
At thy service.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Sexta.  Enter Protheus solus. Pro. 
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 Pour 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:  
Vnheedfull vows may heedfully be broken,  
And he wants wit, that wants resolved will,  
To learn his wit, t' exchange the bad for better;  
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad,  
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred,  
With twenty thousand soule-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 Siluia'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.  

Scoena septima.  Enter julia and Lucetta. jul. 
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 Charactered, and engraved,  
To lesson me, and tell me some good mean  
How with my honour I may undertake  
A journey to my loving Protheus.  Luc. 
Alas, the way is wearisome and long.  jul. 
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 Protheus.  Luc. 
Better forbear, till Protheus make return.  jul. 
Oh, knowst 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.  Luc. 
I do not seek to quench your Love's hot fire,  
But qualify the fires extreme rage,  
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.  jul. 
The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns:  
The Current that with gentle murmur glides  
(Thou knowst) being stopped, impatiently doth rage:  
But when his fair course is not hindered,  
He makes sweet music with th' enamelled 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 patiented 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.  Luc. 
But in what habit will you go along?  jul. 
Not like a woman, for I would prevent  
The lose encounters of lascivious men:  
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds  
As may beseem some well reputed Page.  Luc. 
Why then your Ladyship must cut your hair.  jul. 
No girl, I'll knit it up in silken strings,  
With twenty od-conceited true-love knots:  
To be fantastic, may become a youth  
Of greater time than I shall show to be.  Luc. 
What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches?  jul. 
That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)  
What compass will you wear your Farthingale?  
Why even what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)  Luc. 
You must needs have them with a codpiece (Madam)  jul. 
Out, out, (Lucetta) that willbe illfavourd.  Luc. 
A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin  
Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on.  jul. 
Lucetta, as thou lov'st 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 scandalised.  Luc. 
If you think so, then stay at home, and go not.  jul. 
Nay, that I will not.  Luc. 
Then never dream on Infamy, but go:  
If Protheus like your journey, when you come,  
No matter who's displeased, when you are gone:  
I fear me he will scarce be pleased with all.  jul. 
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 Protheus.  Luc. 
All these are servants to deceitful men.  jul. 
Base men, that use them to so base effect;  
But truer stars did govern Protheus 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.  Luc. 
Pray heaven he prove so when you come to him.  jul. 
Now, as thou lov'st 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.   

Actus Tertius,  

Scena Prima.  Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine, lance, Speed. Duke. 
Sir Thurio, give us leave (I pray) a while,  
We have some secrets to confer about.  
Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me?  Pro. 
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 stolen away from you,  
It would be much vexation to your age.  
Thus (for my duties sake) I rather chose  
To cross my friend in his intended drift,  
Then (by concealing it) heap on your head  
A pack of sorrows, which would press you down  
(Being unprevented) to your timeless grave.  Duke. 
Protheus, 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 shunned)  
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 conveyed away.  Pro. 
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.  Pro. 
Adieu, my Lord, Sir Valentine is coming.  Duk. 
Sir Valentine, whether away so fast?  Val. 
Please it your Grace, there is a Messenger  
That stays to bear my Letters to my friends,  
And I am going to deliver them.  Duk. 
Be they of much import?  Val. 
The tenure of them doth but signify  
My health, and happy being at your Court.  Duk. 
Nay then no matter: stay with me a while,  
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.  Val. 
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?  Duk. 
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 cherished by her childlike 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 dowry:  
For me, and my possessions she esteems not.  Val. 
What would your Grace have me to do in this?  Duk. 
There is a Lady in Verona here  
Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy,  
And naught 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 sunbright eye.  Val. 
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.  Duk. 
But she did scorn a present that I sent her,  Val. 
A woman sometime scorns what best contents her.  
Send her another: never give her over,  
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, what ever 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.  Duk. 
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.  Val. 
Why then I would resort to her by night.  Duk. 
I, but the doors be locked, and keys kept safe,  
That no man hath recourse to her by night.  Val. 
What let's but one may enter at her window?  Duk. 
Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,  
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it  
Without apparent hazard of his life.  Val. 
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.  Duk. 
Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood  
Advise me, where I may have such a Ladder.  Val. 
When would you use it? pray sir, tell me that.  Duk. 
This very night; for Love is like a child  
That longs for every thing that he can come by.  Val. 
By seven a clock, i'll get you such a Ladder.  Duk 
But hark thee: I will go to her alone,  
How shall I best convey the Ladder thither?  Val. 
It will be light (my Lord) that you may bear it  
Under a cloak, that is of any length.  Duk. 
A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?  Val. 
I my good Lord.  Duk. 
Then let me see thy cloak,  
I'll get me one of such another length.  Val. 
Why any cloak will serve the turn (my Lord)  Duk. 
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.  
My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly,  
And slaves they are to me, that send them flying.  
Oh, 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 thither them importune  
Do curse the grace, that with such grace hath blessed them,  
Because myself do want my servant's fortune.  
I curse myself, for they are sent by me,  
That they should harbour where their Lord should 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 bestowed 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 fare exceed the love  
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.  
Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,  
But as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.  Val. 
And why not death, rather than living torment?  
To die, is to be banished from myself,  
And Silvia is myself: banished 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  
Fostered, illumined, cherished, 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.  Pro. 
Run (boy) run, run, and seek him out.  Lau. 
So-hough, Soa hough—  Pro. 
What seest thou?  Lau. 
Him we go to find,  
There's not a hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.  Pro. 
Valentine?  Val. 
No.  Pro. 
Who then? his Spirit?  Val. 
Neither,  Pro. 
What then?  Val. 
Nothing.  Lau. 
Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?  Pro. 
Who wouldst thou strike?  Lau. 
Nothing.  Pro. 
Villain, forbear.  Lau. 
Why Sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you.  Pro. 
Sirrah, I say forbear: friend Valentine, a word.  Val. 
My ears are stopped, & cannot hear good news,  
So much of bad already hath possessed them.  Pro. 
Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,  
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.  Val. 
Is Silvia dead?  Pro. 
No, Valentine.  Val. 
No Valentine indeed, for sacred Silvia,  
Hath she forsworn me?  Pro. 
No, Valentine.  Val. 
No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me.  
What is your news?  Lau. 
Sir, there is a proclamation, that you are vanished.  Pro. 
That thou art banished: oh that's the news,  
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.  Val. 
Oh, I have fed upon this woe already,  
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.  
Doth Silvia know that I am banished?  Pro. 
I, I: and she hath offered to the doom  
(Which un-reverst stands in effectual force)  
A Sea of melting pearl, which some call tears;  
Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered,  
With them upon her knees, her humble self,  
Wring 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 siluer-shedding tears  
Can 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.  Val. 
No more: unless the next word that thou speakest  
Have some malignant power upon my life:  
If so: I pray thee breathe it in mine ear,  
As ending Anthem of my endless dolour.  Pro. 
Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,  
And study help for that which thou lamentest,  
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 delivered  
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 lov'st Silvia (though not for thyself)  
Regard thy danger, and along with me.  Val. 
I pray thee Lance, and if thou seest my Boy  
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the Northgate.  Pro. 
Go sirrah, find him out: Come Valentine.  Val 
Oh my dear Silvia; hapless Valentine.  Lance. 
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 life's not now that knows me to be in love, yet I am in love, but a Teem 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: here is the Cate-log of her Condition. Inprimis. 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.  Speed. 
How now Signior Lance? what news with your Mastership?  La. 
With my Mastership? why, it is at Sea:  Sp. 
Well, your old vice still: mistake the word: what news then in your paper?  La. 
The blackest news that ever thou heard'st.  Sp. 
Why man? how black?  La. 
Why, as black as Ink.  Sp. 
Let me read them?  La. 
Fie on thee jolt-head, thou canst not read.  Sp. 
Thou liest: I can.  La. 
I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee?  Sp. 
Marry, the son of my Grandfather.  La. 
Oh illiterate loiterer▪ it was the son of thy Grandmother: this proves that thou canst not read.  Sp. 
Come fool, come: try me in thy paper.  La. 
There: and S. Nicholas be thy speed.  Sp. 
Inprimis she can milk.  La. 
I that she can.  Sp. 
Item, she brews good Ale.  La. 
And thereof comes the proverb: (Blessing of your heart, you brew good Ale.)  Sp. 
Item, she can sow.  La. 
That's as much as to say (Can she so?)  Sp. 
Item she can knit.  La. 
What need a man care for a stock with a wench,  
When she can knit him a stock?  Sp. 
Item, she can wash and scour.  La. 
A special virtue: for than she need not be washed, and scoured.  Sp. 
Item, she can spin.  La. 
Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for her living.  Sp. 
Item, she hath many nameless virtues.  La. 
That's as much as to say Bastard-vertues: that indeed know not their fathers; and therefore have no names.  Sp. 
Here follow her vices.  La. 
Close at the heels of her virtues.  Sp. 
Item, she is not to be fasting in respect of her breath.  La. 
Well: that fault may be mended with a breakfast: read on.  Sp. 
Item, she hath a sweet mouth.  La. 
That makes amends for her sour breath.  Sp. 
Item, she doth talk in her sleep.  La. 
It's no matter for that; so she sleep not in her talk.  Sp. 
Item, she is slow in words.  La. 
Oh 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.  Sp. 
Item, she is proud.  La. 
Out with that too:  
It was Eve's legacy, and cannot be taken from her.  Sp. 
Item, she hath no teeth.  La. 
I care not for that neither: because I love crusts.  Sp. 
Item, she is cursed.  La. 
Well: the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.  Sp. 
Item, she will often praise her liquor.  La. 
If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not,  
I will; for good things should be praised.  Sp. 
Item, she is too liberal.  La. 
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.  Sp. 
Item, she hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.  La. 
Stop there: I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last Article: rehearse that once more.  Sp. 
Item, she hath more hair then wit.  La. 
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?  Sp. 
And more faults than hairs.  La. 
That's monstrous: oh that that were out.  Sp. 
And more wealth than faults.  La. 
Why that word makes the faults gracious:  
Well, i'll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible.  Sp. 
What then?  La. 
Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Master stays for thee at the North gate.  Sp. 
For me?  La. 
For thee? I, who art thou? he hath stayed for a better man than thee.  Sp. 
And must I go to him?  La. 
Thou must run to him; for thou hast stayed so long, that going will scarce serve the turn.  Sp. 
Why didst not tell me sooner? ' pox of your love Letters.  La. 
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.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus. Du. 
Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love you  
Now Valentine is banished from her sight.  Th. 
Since his exile she hath despised me most,  
Forsworn my company, and railed at me,  
That I am desperate of obtaining her.  Du. 
This weak impress of Love, is as a figure  
Trenched in ice, which with an hours hear  
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.  
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,  
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.  
How now sir Protheus, is your countryman  
(According to our Proclamation) gone?  Pro. 
Gone, my good Lord.  Du. 
My daughter takes his going grievously?  Pro. 
A little time (my Lord) will kill that grief.  Du. 
So I believe: but Thurio thinks not so:  
Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee,  
(For thou hast shown some sign of good desert)  
Makes me the better to confer with thee.  Pro. 
Longer than I prove loyal to your Grace,  
Let me not live, to look upon your Grace.  Du. 
Thou knowst how willingly, I would effect  
The match between sir Thurio, and my daughter?  Pro. 
I do my Lord.  Du. 
And also, I think, thou art not ignorant  
How she opposes her against my will?  Pro. 
She did my Lord, when Valentine was here.  Du. 
I, and perversely, she persevers so:  
What might we do to make the girl forget  
The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio?  Pro. 
The best way is, to slander Valentine,  
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent:  
Three things, that women highly hold in hate.  Du. 
I, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate.  Pro. 
I, if his enemy deliver it.  
Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken  
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend.  Du. 
Then you must undertake to slander him.  Pro. 
And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to do:  
'Tis an ill office for a Gentleman,  
Especially against his very friend.  Du. 
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.  Pro. 
You have prevailed (my Lord) if I can do it  
By aught 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.  Th. 
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.  Du. 
And Protheus, 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.  Pro. 
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 walefull Sonnets, whose composed Rhymes  
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.  Du. 
I, much is the force of heaven-bred Poesy.  Pro. 
Say that upon the altar of her beauty  
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:  
Writ 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 Poet's 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 Consort; 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.  Du. 
This discipline, shows thou hast been in love.  Th. 
And thy advice, this night, i'll put in practice:  
Therefore, sweet Protheus, my direction-giver,  
Let us into the City presently  
To sort some Gentlemen, well skilled in Music.  
I have a Sonnet, that will serve the turn  
To give the onset to thy good advice.  Du. 
About it Gentlemen.  Pro. 
We'll wait upon your Grace, till after Supper,  
And afterward determine our proceed.  Du. 
Even now about it, I will pardon you.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Valentine, Speed, and certain Outlaws. 1. Out-l. 
Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger.  2. Out. 
If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em.  3. Out. 
Stand sir, and throw us that you have about ' ye.  
If not: we'll make you sit, and rifle you.  Sp. 
Sir we are undone; these are the Villains  
That all the Travellers do fear so much.  Val. 
My friends.  1. Out. 
That's not so, sir: we are your enemies.  2. Out. 
Peace: we'll hear him.  3. Out. 
I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man.  Val. 
Then know that I have little wealth to lose;  
A man I am, crossed 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.  2. Out. 
Whether travel you?  Val. 
To Verona.  1. Out. 
Whence came you?  Val. 
From Milan.  3. Out. 
Have you long sojourned there?  Val. 
Some sixteen months, and longer might have stayed,  
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.  1. Out. 
What, were you banished thence?  Val. 
I was.  2. Out. 
For what offence?  Val. 
For that which now torments me to rehearse;  
I killed a man, whose death I much repent,  
But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,  
Without false vantage, or base treachery.  1. Out. 
Why ne'er repent it, if it were done so;  
But were you banished for so small a fault?  Val. 
I was, and held me glad of such a doom.  2. Out. 
Have you the Tongues?  Val. 
My youthful travail, therein made me happy,  
Or else I often had been often miserable.  3. Out. 
By the bare scalp of Robin Hoods fat Friar,  
This fellow were a King, for our wild faction.  1. Out. 
We'll have him: Sirs, a word.  Sp. 
Master, be one of them:  
It's an honourable kind of thievery.  Val. 
Peace villain.  2. Out. 
Tell us this: have you any thing to take to?  Val. 
Nothing but my fortune.  3. Out. 
Know then, that some of us are Gentlemen,  
Such as the fury of ungoverned youth  
Thrust from the company of awful men.  
Myself was from Verona banished,  
For practising to steal away a Lady,  
And heir and Niece, allied unto the Duke.  2. Out. 
And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman,  
Who, in my mood, I stabbed unto the heart.  1. Out. 
And I, for such like petty crimes as these.  
But to the purpose: for we cite our faults,  
That they may hold excused 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.  2. Out. 
Indeed because you are a banished 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?  3. Out. 
What sayest thou? wilt thou be of our consort?  
Say I, 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.  1. Out. 
But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.  2. Out. 
Thou shalt not live, to brag what we have offered.  Val. 
I take your offer, and will live with you,  
Provided that you do no outrages  
On silly women, or poor passengers.  3. Out. 
No, we detest such vile base practices.  
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our Crewes,  
And show thee all the Treasure we have got;  
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Protheus, Thurio, julia, Host, Musician, Silvia. Pro. 
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.  Th. 
How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before us?  Pro. 
I gentle Thurio, for you know that love  
Will creep in service, where it cannot go.  Th. 
I, but I hope, Sir, that you love not here.  Pro. 
Sir, but I do: or else I would be hence.  Th. 
Who, Silvia?  Pro. 
I, Silvia, for your sake.  Th. 
I thank you for your own: Now Gentlemen  
Let's tune: and too it lustily a while.  Ho. 
Now, my young guest; me thinks your ' allyeholly;  
I pray you why is it?  Iu. 
Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry.  Ho. 
Come, we'll have you merry: i'll bring you where you shall hear Music, and see the Gentleman that you asked for.  Iu. 
But shall I hear him speak.  Ho. 
I that you shall.  Iu. 
That will be Music.  Ho. 
Hark, hark.  Iu. 
Is he among these?  Ho. 
I: but peace, let's heare'm.  

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 life's with kindness:  
Love doth to her eyes repair,  
To help him of his blindness:  
And being helped, 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.   Ho. 
How now? are you sadder than you were before;  
How do you, man? the Music likes you not.  Iu. 
You mistake: the Musician likes me not.  Ho. 
Why, my pretty youth?  Iu. 
He plays false (father.)  Ho. 
How, out of tune on the strings.  Iu. 
Not so: but yet  
So false that he grieves my very heartstrings.  Ho. 
You have a quick ear.  Iu. 
I, I would I were deaf: it makes me have a slow heart.  Ho. 
I perceive you delight not in Music.  Iu. 
Not a whit, when it jars so.  Ho. 
Hark, what fine change is in the Music.  Iu. 
I: that change is the spite.  Ho. 
You would have them always play but one thing.  Iu. 
I would always have one play but one thing.  
But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talk on,  
Often resort unto this Gentlewoman?  Ho. 
I tell you what Lance his man told me,  
He loved her out of all nick.  Iu. 
Where is Lance?  Ho. 
Gone to seek his dog, which to morrow, by his Master's command, he must carry for a present to his Lady.  Iu. 
Peace, stand aside, the company parts.  Pro. 
Sir Thurio, fear not you, I will so plead,  
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.  Th. 
Where meet we?  Pro. 
At Saint Gregory's well.  Th. 
Farewell.  Pro. 
Madam: good even to your Ladyship.  Sil. 
I thank you for your Music (Gentlemen)  
Who is that that spoke?  Pro. 
One (Lady) if you knew his pure heart's truth,  
You would quickly learn to know him by his voice.  Sil. 
Sir Protheus, as I take it.  Pro. 
Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Servant.  Sil. 
What's your will?  Pro. 
That I may compass yours.  Sil. 
You have your wish: my will is even this,  
That presently you hie you home to bed:  
Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man:  
Thinkest thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse,  
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 fare from granting thy request,  
That I despise thee, for thy wrongful suit;  
And by and by intent to chide myself,  
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.  Pro. 
I grant (sweet love) that I did love a Lady,  
But she is dead.  Iu. 
'Twere false, if I should speak it;  
For I am sure she is not buried.  Sil. 
Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend  
Suruives; to whom (thy self art witness)  
I am betrothed; and art thou not ashamed  
To wrong him, with thy importunacy?  Pro. 
I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.  Sil. 
And so suppose am I; for in her grave  
Assure thyself, my love is buried.  Pro. 
Sweet Lady, let me take it from the earth.  Sil. 
Go to thy Lady's grave and call hers thence,  
Or at the least, in hers, sepulchre thine.  jul. 
He heard not that.  Pro. 
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.  jul. 
If 'twere a substance you would sure deceive it,  
And make it but a shadow, as I am.  Sil. 
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.  Pro. 
As wretches have o'ernight  
That wait for execution in the morn.  jul. 
Host, will you go?  Ho. 
By my halidom, I was fast asleep.  jul. 
Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?  Ho. 
Marry, at my house:  
Trust me, I think 'tis almost day.  jul. 
Not so: but it hath been the longest night  
That ere I watched, and the most heaviest.   

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Eglamore, Silvia. Eg. 
This is the hour that Madam Silvia  
Entreated me to call, and know her mind:  
there's some great matter she'd employ me in.  
Madam, Madam.  Sil. 
Who calls?  Eg. 
Your servant, and your friend;  
One that attends your Ladyship's command.  Sil. 
Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow.  Eg. 
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.  Sil. 
Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman:  
Think not I flatter (for I swear I do not)  
Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplished.  
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will  
I bear unto the banished Valentine:  
Nor how my father would enforce me marry  
Vain Thurio (whom my very soul abhorred.)  
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 Eglamoure: 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 (Eglamoure)  
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 departed alone.  Egl. 
Madam, I pity much your grievances,  
Which, since I know they virtuously are placed,  
I give consent to go along with you,  
Wreaking as little what betideth me,  
As much, I wish all good befortune you.  
When will you go?  Sil. 
This evening coming.  Eg. 
Where shall I meet you?  Sil. 
At Friar Patrick's Cell,  
Where I intent holy Confession.  Eg. 
I will not fail your Ladyship:  
Good morrow (gentle Lady.)  Sil. 
Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamoure.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Lance, Protheus, julia, Silvia. Lau. 
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 Capons-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 gentleman-like-dogs, under the Duke's table: he had not been there (bless the mark) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelled 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: I marry do I (quoth he) you do him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas I did the thing you wots 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?  Pro. 
Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well,  
And will employ thee in some service presently.  Iu. 
In what you please, i'll do what I can.  Pro. 
I hope thou wilt.  
How now you whoreson peasant,  
Where have you been these two days loitering?  La. 
Marry Sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me.  Pro. 
And what says she to my little jewel?  La. 
Marry she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough for such a present.  Pro. 
But she received my dog?  La. 
No indeed did she not:  
Here have I brought him back again.  Pro. 
What, didst thou offer her this from me?  La. 
I Sir, the other Squirrel was stolen from me  
By the Hangman's boys in the market place,  
And then I offered her mine own, who is a dog  
As big as ten of yours, & therefore the gift the greater.  Pro. 
Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again,  
Or ne'er return again into my sight.  
Away, I say: stayest thou to vex me here;  
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 behaviour,  
Which (if my Augury deceive me not)  
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:  
Therefore know thee, for this I entertain thee.  
Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,  
Deliver it to Madam Silvia;  
She loved me well, delivered it to me.  jul. 
It seems you loved not her, not leave her token:  
She is dead belike?  Pro. 
Not so: I think she life's.  jul. 
Alas.  Pro. 
Why dost thou cry alas?  jul. 
I cannot choose but pity her.  Pro. 
Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?  jul. 
Because, me thinks that she loved you as well  
As you do love your Lady Silvia:  
She dreams on 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 on it, makes me cry alas.  Pro. 
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.  jul. 
How many women would do such a message?  
Alas poor Protheus, thou hast entertained  
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 love's 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 woe for him but yet so coldly,  
As (heaven it knows) I would not have him speed.  
Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my means  
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.  Sil. 
What would you with her, if that I be she?  jul. 
If you be she, I do entreat your patience  
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.  Sil. 
From whom?  jul. 
From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam.  Sil. 
Oh: he sends you for a Picture?  jul. 
I, Madam.  Sil. 
Ursula, bring my Picture there,  
Go, give your Master this: tell him from me,  
One julia, that his changing thoughts forget  
Would better fit his Chamber, than this Shadow.  jul. 
Madam, please you peruse this Letter;  
Pardon me (Madam) I have unadvised  
Delivered you a paper that I should not;  
This is the Letter to your Ladyship.  Sil. 
I pray thee let me look on that again.  jul. 
It may not be: good Madam pardon me.  Sil. 
There, hold:  
I will not look upon your Master's lines:  
I know they are stuffed with protestations,  
And full of newfound oaths, which he will break  
As easily as I do tear his paper.  jul. 
Madam, he sends your Ladyship this Ring.  Sil. 
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.  jul. 
She thanks you.  Sil. 
What sayst thou?  jul. 
I thank you Madam, that you tender her:  
Poor Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much.  Sil. 
Dost thou know her?  jul. 
Almost as well as I do know myself.  
To think upon her woes, I do protest  
That I have wept a hundred several times.  Sil. 
Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsaken her?  jul. 
I think she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow▪  Sil. 
Is she not passing fair?  jul. 
She hath been fairer (Madam) than she is,  
When she did think my Master loved her well;  
She, in my judgement, was as fair as you.  
But since she did neglect her lookingglass,  
And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away,  
The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks,  
And pinched the lilly-tincture of her face,  
That now she is become as black as I.  Sil. 
How tall was she?  jul. 
About my stature: for at Pentecost,  
When all our Pageants of delight were played,  
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,  
And I was trimmed in Madam julius' gown,  
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgements,  
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 a good.  
For I did play a lamentable part.  
(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning  
For Thesus 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.  Sil. 
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 lov'st her. Farewell.  jul. 
And she shall thank you for't, if ere 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 trisle 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 flattered her a little,  
Unless I flatter with myself too much.  
Her hair is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;  
If that be all the difference in his love,  
I'll get me such a coloured Periwig:  
Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine:  
I, 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 worshipped, kissed, 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 scratched out your unseeing eyes,  
To make my Master out of love with thee.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Eglamoure, Silvia. Egl. 
The Sun gins 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: Lady a happy evening.  Sil. 
Amen, Amen: go on (good Eglamoure)  
Out at the Postern by the Abbey wall;  
I fear I am attended by some Spies.  Egl. 
Fear not: the Forest is not three leagues off,  
If we recover that, we are sure enough.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Thurio, Protheus, julia, Duke. Th. 
Sir Protheus, what says Silvia to my suit?  Pro. 
Oh Sir, I find her milder than she was,  
And yet she takes exceptions at your person.  Thu. 
What? that my leg is too long?  Pro. 
No, that it is too little.  Thu. 
I'll wear a Boot, to make it somewhat rounder.  Pro. 
But love will not be spurred to what it loaths.  Thu. 
What says she to my face?  Pro. 
She says it is a fair one.  Thu. 
Nay then the wanton lies: my face is black.  Pro. 
But Pearls are fair; and the old saying is,  
Black men are Pearls, in beauteous Lady's eyes.  Thu. 
'Tis true, such Pearls as put out Lady's eyes,  
For I had rather wink, then look on them.  Thu. 
How likes she my discourse?  Pro. 
Ill, when you talk of war.  Thu. 
But well, when I discourse of love and peace.  jul. 
But better indeed, when you hold you peace.  Thu. 
What says she to my valour?  Pro. 
Oh Sir, she makes no doubt of that.  jul. 
She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.  Thu. 
What says she to my birth?  Pro. 
That you are well derived.  jul. 
True: from a Gentleman, to a fool.  Thu. 
Considers she my Possessions?  Pro. 
Oh, I: and pities them.  Thu. 
Wherefore?  jul. 
That such an Ass should owe them.  Pro. 
That they are out by Lease.  jul. 
Here comes the Duke.  Du. 
How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio?  
Which of you saw Eglamoure of late?  Thu. 
Not I  Pro. 
Nor I.  Du. 
Saw you my daughter?  Pro. 
Neither.  Du. 
Why then  
She's fled unto that peasant, Valentine;  
And Eglamoure is in her Company:  
'Tis true: for Friar Laurence met them both  
As he, in penance wandered through the Forest:  
Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she,  
But being masked, he was not sure of it.  
Besides she did intent 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 toward Mantua, whether they are fled:  
Dispatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me.  Thu. 
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 Eglamoure,  
Then for the love of reckless Silvia.  Pro. 
And I will follow, more for Siluas love  
Then hate of Eglamoure that goes with her.  jul. 
And I will follow, more to cross that love  
Then hate for Silvia, that is gone for love.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Silvia, Outlaws. 1. Out. 
Come, come be patiented:  
We must bring you to our Captain.  Sil. 
A thousand more mischances than this one  
Have learned me how to brook this patiently.  2 Out. 
Come, bring her away.  1 Out. 
Where is the Gentleman that was with her?  3 Out. 
Being nimble footed, he hath out▪ run us.  
But Moses 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.  1 Out. 
Come, I must bring you to our Captain's cave.  
Fear not: he bears an honourable mind,  
And will not use a woman lawlessly.  Sil. 
O Valentine: this I endure for thee.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter Valentine, Protheus, Silvia, julia, Duke, Thurio, Outlaws. Val. 
How use doth breed a habit in a man?  
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods  
I better brook then flourishing peopled Towns:  
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,  
And to the Nightingales complaining Notes  
Tune my distrestes, and record my woes.  
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,  
Leave not the Mansion so long Tenant-lesse,  
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 hallowing, 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?  Pro. 
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.)  Val. 
How like a dream is this? I see, and hear:  
Love, lend me patience to forbear a while.  Sil. 
O miserable, unhappy that I am.  Pro. 
Unhappy were you (Madam) ere I came:  
But by my coming, I have made you happy.  Sil. 
By thy approach thou makest me most unhappy.  jul. 
And me, when he approacheth to your presence  Sil. 
Had I been ceased by a hungry Lion,  
I would have been a breakfast to the Beast,  
Rather than have false Protheus rescue me:  
Oh 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 Protheus:  
Therefore be gone, solicit me no more.  Pro. 
What dangerous action, stood it next to death  
Would I not undergo, for one calm look:  
Oh 'tis the curse in Love, and still approved  
When women cannot love, where they're beloved.  Sil. 
When Protheus 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 fare worse than none: better have none  
Then plural faith, which is too much by one:  
Thou Counterfeit, to thy true friend.  Pro. 
In Love,  
Who respects friend?  Sil. 
All men but Protheus.  Pro. 
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.  Sil. 
Oh heaven.  Pro. 
I'll force thee yield to my desire.  Val. 
Ruffian: let go that rude uncivil touch,  
Thou friend of an ill fashion.  Pro. 
Valentine.  Val. 
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  
Can have persuaded me: now I dare not say  
I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me:  
Who should be trusted, when one's right hand  
Is perjured to the bosom? Protheus  
I am sorry I must never trust thee more,  
But count the world a stranger for thy sake:  
The private wound is deepest: oh time, most accursed:  
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst?  Pro. 
My shame and guilt confounds me:  
Forgive me Valentine: if hearty sorrow  
Be a sufficient Ransom for offence,  
I tendered here: I do as truly suffer,  
As ere I did commit.  Val. 
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 th' eternals wrath's appeased:  
And that my love may appear plain and free,  
All that was mine, in Silvia, I give thee.  jul. 
Oh me unhappy.  Pro. 
Look to the Boy.  Val. 
Why, Boy?  
Why wag: how now? what's the matter? look up: speak.  jul. 
O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia: which (out of my neglect) was never done.  Pro. 
Where is that ring? boy?  jul. 
here 'tis▪ this is it.  Pro. 
How? let me see.  
Why this is the ring I gave to julia.  jul. 
Oh, cry you mercy sir, I have mistook:  
This is the ring you sent to Silvia.  Pro. 
But how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart  
I gave this unto julia.  jul. 
And julia herself did give it me,  
And julia herself hath brought it hither.  Pro. 
How? julia?  jul. 
Behold her, that gave aim to all thy oaths,  
And entertained 'em deeply in her heart.  
How oft hast thou with perjury cloven the root?  
Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee blush.  
Be thou ashamed that I have taken 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.  Pro. 
Then men their minds? 'tis true: oh heaven, were man  
But Constant, he were perfect; that one error  
Fills him with faults: makes him run through all th' sins;  
Inconstancy falls-off, ere it gins:  
What is in Siluia's face, but I may spy  
More fresh in Julia's, with a constant eye?  Val. 
Come, come: a hand from either:  
Let me be blessed to make this happy close:  
'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.  Pro. 
Bear witness (heaven) I have my wish for ever.  jul. 
And I mine.  Out-l. 
A prize: a prize: a prize.  Val. 
Forbear, forbear I say: It is my Lord the Duke.  
Your Grace is welcome to a man disgraced,  
Banished Valentine.  Duke. 
Sir Valentine?  Thu. 
Yonder is Silvia: and Siluia's mine.  Val. 
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 breath upon my Love..  Thur. 
Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:  
I hold him but a fool that will endanger  
His Body, for a Girl that love's 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 unrivalled merit,  
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,  
Thou art a Gentleman, and well derived,  
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.  Val. 
I thank your Grace, the gift hath made me happy:  
I now beseech you (for your daughter's sake)  
To grant one Boon that I shall ask of you.  Duke. 
I grant it (for thine own) what ere it be.  Val. 
These banished men, that I have kept withal,  
Are men endued with worthy qualities:  
Forgive them what they have committed here,  
And let them be recalled from their Exile:  
They are reform, civil, full of good,  
And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.)  Duke. 
Thou hast prevailed, 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.  Val. 
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.  Val. 
I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, than Boy.  Duke. 
What mean you by that saying?  Val. 
Please you, I'll tell you, as we pass along,  
That you will wonder what hath fortuned:  
Come Protheus, '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 names of all the Actors.  

Duke: Father to Silvia.  
Valentine. the two Gentlemen.  
Protheus. the two Gentlemen.  
Anthonio: father to Protheus.  
Thurio: a foolish rival to Valentine.  
Eglamoure: Agent for Silvia in her escape.  
Host: where julia lodges.  
Outlaws with Valentine.  
Speed: a clownish servant to Valentine.  
lance: the like to Protheus.  
Panthion: servant to Antonio.  
julia: beloved of Protheus.  
Silvia: beloved of Valentine.  
Lucetta: waiting-woman to julia.    
FINIS.   

THE Merry Wives of Windsor.  

Actus primus,  

Scena prima.  Enter justice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Euans, Master Page, Falstoffe, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, Anne Page, Mistress Ford, Mistress Page, Simple. Shallow. 
SIr Hugh, persuade me not: I will make a Star-Chamber matter of it, if he were twenty Sir john Falstoffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow Esquire.  Slen. 
In the County of Gloucester, justice of Peace and Coram.  Shal. 
I (Cousin Slender) and Cust-alorum.  Slen. 
I, and Rato lorum too; and a Gentleman borne (Master Parson) who writes himself Armigero, in any Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero.  Shal. 
I that I do, and have done any time these three hundred years.  Slen. 
All his successors (gone before him) hath done't: and all his Ancestors (that come after him) may: they may give the dozen white Luce's in their Coat.  Shal. 
It is an old Coat.  Euans. 
The dozen white Lowses do become an old Coat well: it agrees well passant: It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies Love..  Shal. 
The Luse is the fresh-fish, the saltfish, is an old Coat.  Slen. 
I may quarter (Coz).  Shal. 
You may, by marrying.  Euans. 
It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.  Shal. 
Not a whit.  Euan. 
Yes per-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 compromises between you.  Shal. 
The Council shall hear it, it is a Riot.  Euan. 
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 God, and not to hear a Riot: take your viza-ments in that.  Shal. 
Ha'; o' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it.  Euans. 
It is better that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another device in my brain, which peradventure brings good discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page, which is pretty virginity.  Slen. 
Mistress Anne Page? she has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman.  Euans. 
It is that ferry person for all the orld, as just as you will desire, and seven hundred pounds of Monies, and Gold, and Silver, is her Grandsire upon his deaths-bed, (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old. It were a good motion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham, and Mistress Anne Page.  Slen. 
Did her Grandsire leave her seven hundred pound?  Euan. 
I, and her father is make her a better penny.  Slen. 
I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good gifts.  Euan. 
Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is good gifts.  Shal. 
Well, let us see honest Mr Page: is Falstaff there?  Euan. 
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 Mr. Page. What hoa? Got-plesse your house here.  Mr. Page. 
Who's there?  Euan. 
Here is go't's blessing and your friend, and justice Shallow, and here young Master Slender: that peradventures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your like.  M●. Page. 
I am glad to see your Worships well: I thank you for my Venison Master Shallow.  Shal. 
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, lafoy: with my heart.  M. Page. 
Sir, I thank you.  Shal. 
Sir, I thank you: by yea, and no I do.  M. Pa. 
I am glad to see you, good Master Slender.  Slen. 
How does your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard say he was outrun on Cotsall.  M. Pa. 
It could not be judged, Sir.  Slen. 
You'll not confess: you'll not confess.  Shal. 
That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault: 'tis a good dog.  M. Pa. 
A Cur, Sir.  Shal. 
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?  M. Pa. 
Sir, he is within: and I would I could do a good office between you.  Euan. 
It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak.  Shal. 
He hath wronged me (Master Page.)  M. Pa. 
Sir, he doth in some sort confess it.  Shal. 
If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that so (M. Page?) he hath wronged me, indeed he hath, at a word he hath: believe me, Robert Shallow Esquire, saith he is wronged.  Ma. Pa. 
Here comes Sir john.  Fal. 
Now, Master Shallow, you'll complain of me to the King?  Shal. 
Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my dear, and broke open my Lodge.  Fal. 
But not kissed your Keeper's daughter?  Shal. 
Tut, a pin: this shall be answered.  Fal. 
I will answer it straight, I have done all this:  
That is now answered.  Shal. 
The Council shall know this.  Fal. 
'Twere better for you if it were known in council: you'll be laughed at.  Eu. 
Pauca verba; (Sir john) good words.  Fal. 
Good words? good Cabbage; Slender, I broke your head: what matter have you against me?  Slen. 
Marry sir, I have matter in my head against you, and against your coney-catching Rascals, Bardolf, Nym, and Pistol.  Bar. 
You Banbery Cheese.  Slen. 
I, it is no matter.  Pissed. 
How now, Mephistopheles?  Slen. 
I, it is no matter.  Nym. 
Slice, I say; pauca. pauca: Slice, that's my humour.  Slen. 
Where's Simple my man? can you tell, Cousin?  Eua. 
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,) & there is myself, (fidelicet myself) and the three party is (last, and finally) mine Host of the Gater.  Ma. Pa. 
We three to hear it, & end it between them.  Euan. 
Ferry gooed, I will make a priefe of it in my notebook, and we will afterwards ork upon the cause, with as great discreetly as we can.  Fal. 
Pistol.  Pissed. 
He hears with ears.  Euan. 
The Tevill and his Tamburlaine: what phrase is this? he hears with ear? why, it is affectations.  Fal. 
Pistol, did you pick M. Slenders purse?  Slen. 
I, 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 Shovelboords, that cost me two shilling and two pence a piece of Yead Miller: by these gloves.  Fal. 
Is this true, Pistol?  Euan. 
No, it is false, if it is a pickpurse.  Pissed. 
Ha', thou mountain Forreyner: Sir john, and Master mine, I combat challenge of this Latin Bilbo: word of denial in thy labras here; word of denial; froth, and scum thou liest.  Slen. 
By these gloves, than 'twas he.  Nym. 
Be advised sir, and pass good humours: I will say marry trap with you, if you run the nut-hooks humour on me, that is the very note of it.  Slen. 
By this hat, than 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.  Fal. 
What say you Scarlet, and john?  Bar. 
Why sir, (for my part) I say the Gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences.  Eu. 
It is his five senses: fie, what the ignorance is.  Bar. 
And being fap, sir, was (as they say) cashiered: and so conclusions past the Careires.  Slen. 
I, you spoke in Latin then to: 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.  Euan. 
So got-udge me, that is a virtuous mind.  Fal. 
You hear all these matters denied, Gentlemen; you hear it.  Mr. Page. 
Nay daughter, carry the wine in, we'll drink within.  Slen. 
Oh heaven: This is Mistress Anne Page.  Mr. Page. 
How now Mistress Ford?  Fal. 
Mistress Ford, by my troth you are very well met: by your leave good Mistress.  Mr. 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.  Slen. 
I had rather than forty shillings I had my book of Songs and Sonnets here: 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?  Sim. 
Book of Riddles? why did you not lend it to Alice Short-cake upon Alhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas.  Shal. 
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 a far-off by Sir Hugh here: do you understand me?  Slen. 
I Sir, you shall find me reasonable; if it be so, I shall do that that is reason.  Shal. 
Nay, but understand me.  Slen. 
So I do Sir.  Euan. 
Give ear to his motions; (Mr. Slender) I will description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it.  Slen. 
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.  Euan. 
But that is not the question: the question is concerning your marriage.  Shal. 
I, there's the point Sir.  Eu. 
Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi. An Page.  Slen. 
Why if it be so; I will marry her upon any reasonable demands.  Eu. 
But can you affection the ' o-man, let us command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips: for diverse Philosophers hold, that the lips is parcel of the mouth: therefore precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid?  Sh. 
Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her?  Slen. 
I hope sir, I will do as it shall become one that would do reason.  Eu. 
Nay, gots Lords, and his Ladies, you must speak possitable, if you can carry-her your desires towards her.  Shal. 
That you must:  
Will you, (upon good dowry) marry her?  Slen. 
I will do a greater thing than that, upon your request (Cousin) in any reason.  Shal. 
Nay conceive me, conceive me, (sweet Coz): what I do is to pleasure you (Coz:) can you love the maid?  Slen. 
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 content: but if you say mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely.  Eu. 
It is a ferry discetion-answere; save the fall is in the'ord, dissolutely: the ort is (according to our meaning) resolutely: his meaning is good.  Sh. 
I: I think my Cousin meant well.  Sl. 
I, or else I would I might be hanged (la.)  Sh. 
Here comes fair Mistress Anne; would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne.  An. 
The dinner is on the Table, my Father desires your worship's company.  Sh. 
I will wait on him, (fair Mistress Anne.)  Eu. 
Od's plessed-wil: I will not be absence at the grace.  An. 
Wil't please your worship to come in, Sir?  Sl. 
No, I thank you forsooth, heartily; I am very well.  An. 
The dinner attends you, Sir.  Sl. 
I am not hungry, I thank you, forsooth: go, Sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my Cousin Shallow: a justice of peace sometime 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 borne.  An. 
I may not go in without your worship: they will not sit till you come.  Sl. 
I' faith, i'll eat nothing: I thank you as much as though I did.  An. 
I pray you Sir walk in.  Sl. 
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 dog's bark so? be there Bears i'th' Town?  An. 
I think there are, Sir, I heard them talked of.  Sl. 
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 lose, are you not?  An. 
I indeed Sir.  Sl. 
That's meat and drink to me now: I have seen Sackerson lose, twenty times, and have taken him by the Chain: but (I warrant you) the women have so cried and shrekt at it, that it past: But women indeed, cannot abide'em, they are very ill-favoured rough things.  Ma. Pa. 
Come, gentle M. Slender, come; we stay for you.  Sl. 
I'll eat nothing, I thank you Sir.  Ma. Pa. 
By cock and pie, you shall not choose, Sir: come, come.  Sl. 
Nay, pray you lead the way.  Ma. Pa. 
Come on, Sir.  Sl. 
Mistress Anne: yourself shall go first.  An. 
Not I Sir, pray you keep on.  Sl. 
Truly I will not go first: truely-la: I will not do you that wrong.  An. 
I pray you Sir.  Sl. 
I'll rather be unmannerly, then troublesome: you do yourself wrong indeede-la.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Euans, and Simple. Eu. 
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 Ringer.  Si. 
Well Sir.  Eu. 
Nay, it is better yet: give her this letter; for it is a'oman that altogeathers 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolfe, Nym, Pistol, Page. Fal. 
Mine Host of the Garter?  Ho. 
What says my Bully Rook? speak schollerly, and wisely.  Fal. 
Truly mine Host; I must turn away some of my followers.  Ho. 
Discard, (bully Hercules) cashier; let them wag; trot, trot.  Fal. 
I sit at ten pounds a week.  Ho. 
Thou'rt an Emperor (Cesar, Keiser and Caesar) I will entertain Bardolfe: he shall draw; he shall tap; said I well (bully Hector?)  Fa. 
Do so (good mine Host.  Ho. 
I have spoke: let him follow: let me see thee froth, and live: I am at a word: follow.  Fal. 
Bardolfe, follow him: a Tapster is a good trade: an old Cloak, makes a new jerkin: a withered Servingman, a fresh Tapster: go, adieu.  Ba. 
It is a life that I have desired: I will thrive.  Pissed. 
O base hungarian wight: wilt thou the spigot wield.  Ni. 
He was gotten in drink: is not the humour conceited?  Fal. 
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.  Ni. 
The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest.  Pissed. 
Convey: the wise it call: Steal? foh: a fico for the phrase.  Fal. 
Well sirs, I am almost out at heels.  Pissed. 
Why then let Kibes ensue.  Fal. 
There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift.  Pissed. 
Young Ravens must have food.  Fal. 
Which of you know Ford of this Town?  Pissed. 
I ken the wight: he is of substance good.  Fal. 
My honest Lads, I will tell you what I am about.  Pissed. 
Two yards, and more.  Fal. 
No quips now Pistol: (Indeed I am in the waste two yards about: but I am now about no waste: I am about thrift) briefly: I do mean to make love to Fords wife: I spy entertainment in her: she discourses: she carves: she gives the leer of invitation: I can construe the action of her familiar stile, & the hardest voice of her behaviour (to be englished rightly) is, I am Sir john Falstafs.  Pissed. 
He hath studied her will; and translated her will: out of honesty, into English.  Ni. 
The Anchor is deep: will that humour pass?  Fal. 
Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husband's Purse: he hath a legend of Angels.  Pissed. 
As many devils entertain: and to her Boy say I.  Ni. 
The humour rises: it is good: humour me the angels.  Fal. 
I have writ me here a letter to her: & here another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes too; examined my parts with most judicious illiads: sometimes the beam of her view, guilded my foot: sometimes my portly belly.  Pissed. 
Then did the Sun on dunghill shine.  Ni. 
I thank thee for that humour.  Fal. 
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-glasse: here's another letter to her: She bears the Purse too: She is a Region in Guiana: all gold, and bounty: I will be Cheaters 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.  Pissed. 
Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,  
And by my side wear Steel? then Lucifer take all.  Ni. 
I will run no base humour: here take the humor-Letter; I will keep the behaviour of reputation.  Fal. 
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 i'th' hoof: seek shelter, pack:  
Falstaff will learn the honour of the age,  
French-thrift, you Rogues, myself, and skirted Page.  Pissed. 
Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and  
Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poor,  
Tester i'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack,  
Base Phrygian Turk.  Ni. 
I have operations,  
Which be humours of revenge.  Pissed. 
Wilt thou revenge?  Ni. 
By Welkin, and her Star.  Pissed. 
With wit, or Steel?  Ni. 
With both the humours, I:  
I will discuss the humour of this Love to Ford.  Pissed. 
And I to Page shall eke unfold  
How Falstaff (varlet vile)  
His Dove will prove; his gold will hold,  
And his soft couch defile.  Ni. 
My humour shall not cool: I will incense Ford to deal with poison: I will possess him with yallownesse, for the revolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour.  Pissed. 
Thou art the Mars of Malcontents: I second thee: troop on.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter Mistress Quickly, Simple, john Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton. Qu. 
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 Kings English.  Ru. 
I'll go watch.  Qu. 
Go, and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, (in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in house withal: and I warrant you, no tell-tale, nor no breedebate: his worst fault is, that he is given to prayer; he is something peevish that way: but no body but has his fault: but let that pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is?  Si. 
I: for fault of a better.  Qu. 
And Master Slender's your Master?  Si. 
I forsooth.  Qu. 
Does he not wear a great round Beard, like a Glover's pairing-knife?  Si. 
No forsooth: he hath but a little we face; with a little yellow Beard: a Cain coloured Beard.  Qu. 
A softly-sprighted man, is he not?  Si. 
I 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.  Qu. 
How say you: oh, I should remember him: does he not hold up his head (as it were?) and strut in his gate?  Si. 
Yes indeed does he.  Qu. 
Well, heaven send Anne Page, no worse fortune: Tell Master Parson Euans, I will do what I can for your Master: Anne is a good girl, and I wish—  Ru. 
Out alas: here comes my Master.  Qu. 
We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young man: go into this Closet: he will not stay long: 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: (and down, down, adowne'a. etc.  Ca 
Vat is you sing? I do not like des-toyes: pray you go and fetch me in my Closet, unboyteene verd; a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intent vat I speak? a greene-a-Box.  Qu. 
I forsooth i'll fetch it you: I am glad he went not in himself: if he had found the young man he would have been horn-mad.  Ca 
Fe, fe, fe, fe, maifoy, il fait for ehando, je man voi a le Court la grand affairs.  Qu. 
Is it this Sir?  Ca 
any met le au mon pocket, de-petch quickly:  
Vere is dat knave Rugby?  Qu. 
What john Rugby, john?  Ru. 
Here Sir.  Ca 
You are john Rugby, and you are jacke Rugby:  
Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heel to the Court.  Ru. 
'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch.  Ca 
By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie oublie: dear is some Simples in my Closet, that I vill not for the world I shall leave behind.  Qu. 
Ay, he'll find the young man there, & be mad.  Ca 
O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closet?  
Villainy, Laroone: Rugby, my Rapier.  Qu. 
Good Master be content.  Ca 
Wherefore shall I be content?  Qu. 
The young man is an honest man.  Ca 
What shall de honest man do in my Closet: dear is no honest man that shall come in my Closet.  Qu. 
I beseech you be not so phlegmatic: hear the truth of it. He came of an errand to me, from Parson Hugh.  Ca 
Vell.  Si. 
I forsooth: to desire her to—  Qu. 
Peace, I pray you.  Ca 
Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale.  Si. 
To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid) to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page, for my Master in the way of Marriage.  Qu. 
This is all indeede-la: but i'll ne'er put my finger in the fire, and need not.  Ca 
Sir Hugh send you? Rugby, baton me some paper: tarry you a littell-a-while.  Qui. 
I am glad he is so quiet if he had been throughly 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, & the no is, the French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master, look you, for I keep his house; and I wash, ●ing, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself.)  Simp. 
'Tis a great charge to come under one bodies hand.  Qui. 
Are you advised o' that? you shall find it a great charge: and to be up early, and down later 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 Ans mind, that's neither here nor there.  Caius. 
You, lack ' Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir Hugh, by gar it is a challenge: I will cut his throat in de Park, and I will teach a souruy lack-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.  Qui. 
Alas: he speaks but for his friend.  Caius. 
It is no matter'a ver dat: do not you tell-a-me that 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.  Qui. 
Sir, the maid love's you, and all shall be well:  
We must give folks leave to prate: what the good-ier.  Caius. 
Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if I have not Arm Page, I shall turn your head out of my door: follow my heels, Rugby.  Qui. 
You shall have An-fooles head of your own: No, I know Ans mind for that: never a woman in Windsor knows more of Ans mind than I do, nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven.  Fenton. 
Who's with in there, hoa?  Qui. 
Who's there, I troa? Come near the house I pray you.  Fen. 
How now (good woman) how dost thou?  Qui. 
The better that it pleases your good Worship to ask?  Fen. 
What news? how does pretty Mistress Anne?  Qui. 
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.  Fen. 
Shall I do any good thinkest thou? shall I not lose my suit?  Qui. 
Troth Sir, all is in his hands above: but notwithstanding (Master Fenton) I'll be sworn on a book she love's you: have not your Worship a wart above your eye?  Fen. 
Yes marry have I, what of that?  Qui. 
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 hours talk of that wart; I shall never laugh but in that maid's company: but (indeed) she is given too much to Melancholy and musing: but for you— well— go too—  Fen. 
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.—  Qui. 
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.  Fen. 
Well, farewell, I am in great haste now.  Qui. 
Farewell to your Worship: truly an honest Gentleman: but Anne love's hiim not: for I know Ans mind as well as another does: out upon't: what have I forgot.  Exit.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, Master Page, Master Ford, Pistol, Nim, Quickly, Host, Shallow. Mist. Page. 
What, have scaped Love-letters in the holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? let me see?  
Ask me no reason why I love you, for though Love use Reason for his precisian, 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 Soldierlike 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 jury is this? O wicked, wicked world:  
One that is well-nye worn to pieces with age  
To show himself a young Gallant? What an unwaied  
Behaviour 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.  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.  Mis. Ford. 
Nay, I'll ne'er beleeee that; I have to show to the contrary.  Mis. Page. 
I'faith but you do in my mind.  Mis. Ford. 
Well: I do then: yet I say, I could show you to the contrary: O Mistress Page, give me some counsel.  Mis. Page. 
What's the matter, woman?  Mi. Ford. 
O woman: if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour.  Mi. Page. 
Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour: what is it? dispense with trifles: what is it?  Mi. Ford. 
If I would but go to hell, for an eternal moment, or so: I could be knighted.  Mi. Page. 
What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford? these Knights will hack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy Gentry.  Mi. 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: praise women's modesty: and gave such orderly and wel-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 hundred Psalms to the tune of Green-sleeves: What tempest (I troa) threw this Whale, (with so many Tuns of oil in his belly) a'shoare 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?  Mis. 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 twyn-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 blancke-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.  Mis. Ford. 
Why this is the very same: the very hand: the very words: what doth he think of us?  Mis. 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.  Mi. Ford. 
Boarding, call you it? I'll be sure to keep him above deck.  Mi. 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.  Mi. Ford. 
Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him, that may not sully the chariness of our honesty: oh that my husband saw this Letter: it would give eternal food to his jealousy.  Mis. Page. 
Why look where he comes; and my good man too: he's as fare from jealousy, as I am from giving him cause, and that (I hope) is an unmeasurable distance.  Mis. Ford. 
You are the happier woman.  Mis. Page. 
Let's consult together against this greasy Knight: Come hither.  Ford. 
Well: I hope, it be not so.  Pissed. 
Hope is a curtall-dog in some affairs:  
Sir john affects thy wife.  Ford. 
Why sir, my wife is not young.  Pissed. 
He woos both high and low, both rich & poor, both young and old, one with another (Ford) he love's the Gally-mawfry (Ford) perpend.  Ford. 
Love's my wife?  Pissed. 
With liver, burning hot: prevent:  
Or go thou like Sir Actaeon he, with  
Ring-wood at thy heels: O, odious is the name.  Ford. 
What name Sir?  Pissed. 
The horn I say: Farewell:  
Take heed, have open eye, for thiefs do foot by night.  
Take heed, ere summer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do sing.  
Away sir Corporal Nim:  
Believe it (Page) he speaks sense.  Ford. 
I will be patiented: I will find out this.  Nim. 
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 love's your wife; There's the short and the long: My name is Corporal Nim: I speak, and I avouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim: and Falstaff love's your wife: adieu, I love not the humour of bread and cheese: adieu.  Page. 
The humour of it (quotha?) 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' th' Town commended him for a true man.  Ford. 
'Twas a good sensible fellow: well.  Page. 
How now Meg?  Mist. Page. 
Whether go you (George?) hark you.  Mis. Ford. 
How now (sweet Frank) why art thou melancholy?  Ford. 
I melancholy? I am not melancholy:  
Get you home: go.  Mis. Ford. 
Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head,  
Now: will you go, Mistress Page?  Mis. Page. 
Have with you: you'll come to dinner George? Look who comes yonder: she shall be our Messenger to this paltry Knight.  Mis. Ford. 
Trust me, I thought on her: she'll fit it.  Mis. Page. 
You are come to see my daughter Anne?  Qui. 
I forsooth: and I pray how does good Mistress Anne?  Mis. Page. 
Go in with us and see: we have an hours talk with you.  Page. 
How now Master Ford?  For. 
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?  Pag. 
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. 
I marry does he: if he should intent this voyage toward my wife, I would turn her lose to him; and what he gets more of her, then 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: How now mine Host?  Host. 
How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman Cavaliero justice, I say.  Shal. 
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 Caveleiro-iustice: tell him Bully-Rooke.  Shall. 
Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between Sir Hugh the Welsh Priest, and Caius the French Doctor.  Ford. 
Good mine Host o' th' Garter: a word with you.  Host. 
What sayest thou, my Bully-Rooke?  Shal. 
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.  Host. 
Hast thou no suit against my Knight? my guest-cavaleire?  Shal. 
None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle of burned sack, to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Broome: only for a ●est.  Host. 
My hand, (Bully:) thou shalt have egress and regress, (said I well?) and thy name shall be Broome. It is a merry Knight: will you go An-heires?  Shal. 
Have with you mine Host.  Page. 
I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his Rapier.  Shal. 
Tut sir: I could have told you more: In these times you stand on distance: your Passes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the heart (Master Page) 'tis here, 'tis here: I have seen the time, with my longsword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like Rats.  Host. 
here boys, here, here: shall we wag?  Page. 
Have with you: I had rather hear them scold, than fight.  Ford. 
Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty; yet, I cannot putoff 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.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Falstaff, Pistol, Robin, Quickly, Bardolffe, Ford. Fal. 
I will not lend thee a penny.  Pissed. 
Why then the world's mine Oyster, which I, with sword will open.  Fal. 
Not a penny: I have been content (Sir,) you should lay my countenance to pawn: I have grated upon my good friends for three Repreeves for you, and your Coach-fellow Nim; 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-fellowes. And when Mistress Bright lost the handle of her Fan, I took't upon mine honour thou hadst it not.  Pissed. 
Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteen pence?  Fal. 
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 hononor precise: I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shufflle: to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you Rogue, will en-sconce your rags; your Cat-a-Mountaine-lookes, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold-beating-oathes, under the shelter of your honour? you will not do it? you?  Pissed. 
I do relent: what would thou more of man?  Robin. 
Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.  Fal. 
Let her approach.  Qui. 
Give your worship good morrow.  Fal. 
Good-morrow, goodwife.  Qui. 
Not so an't please your worship.  Fal. 
Good maid then.  Qui. 
I'll be sworn,  
As my mother was the first hour I was borne.  Fal. 
I do believe the swearer; what with me?  Qui. 
Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word, or two?  Fal. 
Two thousand (fair woman) and i'll vouchsafe thee the hearing.  Qui. 
There is one Mistress Ford, (Sir) I pray come a little nearer this ways: I myself dwell with M. Doctor Caius:  Fal. 
Well, on; Mistress Ford, you say.  Qui. 
Your worship says very true: I pray your worship come a little nearer this ways.  Fal. 
I warrant thee, nobody hears: mine own people, mine own people.  Qui. 
Are they so? heaven-blesse them, and make them his Servants.  Fal. 
Well; Mistress Ford, what of her?  Qui. 
Why, Sir; she's a good-creature; Lord, Lord, your Worship's a wanton: well: heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray—.  Fal. 
Mistress Ford: come, Mistress Ford.  Qui. 
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 aligant 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-winke 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.  Fal. 
But what says she to me? be brief my good she- Mercury.  Qui. 
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.  Fal. 
Ten, and eleven.  Qui. 
I, forsooth: and then you may come and see the picture (she says) that you wots of: Master Ford her husband will be from home: alas, the sweet woman leads an ill life with him: he's a very iealousie-man; she leads a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)  Fal. 
Ten, and eleven.  
Woman, commend me to her, I will not fail her.  Qui. 
Why, you say well: But I have another messenger to your worship: Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you to: and let me tell you in your ear, she's as virtuous a civil modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, who ere 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, lafoy: yes in truth.  Fal. 
Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I have no other charms.  Qui. 
Blessing on your heart for't.  Fal. 
But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and Pages wife acquainted each other, how they love me?  Qui. 
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 marvelous 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.  Fal. 
Why, I will.  Qu. 
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.  Fal. 
Fare-thee-well, commend me to them both: there's my purse, I am yet thy debtor: Boy, go along with this woman, this news distracts me.  Pissed. 
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.  Fal. 
Sayest thou so (old jacke) 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.  Bar. 
Sir john, there's one Master Broome below would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath sent your worship a morning's draught of Sack.  Fal. 
Broome is his name?  Bar. 
I Sir.  Fal. 
Call him in: such Brooms are welcome to me, that over ' flows such liquor: ah ha', Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompassed you? go to, via.  Ford. 
‛ Bless you sir.  Fal. 
And you sir: would you speak with me?  Ford. 
I make bold, to press, with so little preparation upon you.  Fal. 
You're welcome, what's your will? give us leave Drawer.  Ford. 
Sir, I am a Gentleman that have spent much, my name is Broome.  Fal. 
Good Master Broome, 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 emboldened me to this unseasoned intrusion: for they say, if money go before, all ways do lie open.  Fal. 
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.  Fal. 
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.  Fal. 
Speak (good Master Broome) 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.  Fal. 
Very well Sir, proceed.  Ford 
There is a Gentlewoman in this Town, her husband's name is Ford.  Fal. 
Well Sir.  Ford. 
I have long loved her, and I protest to you, bestowed much on her: followed her with a doting observance: Ingrossed opportunities to meet her: feed 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.   Fal. 
Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands?  Ford. 
Never.  Fal. 
Have you importuned her to such a purpose?  Ford. 
Never.  Fal. 
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.  Fal. 
To what purpose have you unfolded this to me?  For. 
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 fare, 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, courtlike, and learned preparations.  Fal. 
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 enchange of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Fords wife: use your Art of wooing; win her to consent to you: if any man may, you may as soon as any.  Fal. 
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 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 tootoo strongly embattaild against me: what say you too't, Sir john?  Fal. 
Master Broome, 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 Fords wife.  Ford. 
O good Sir.  Fal. 
I say you shall.  Ford. 
Want no money (Sir john) you shall want none.  Fal. 
Want no Mistress Ford (Master Broome) 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 goe-betweene, parted from me: I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven: for at that time the iealious-rascally-knave her husband will be forth: come you to me at night, you shall know how I speed.  Ford. 
I am blessed in your acquaintance: do you know Ford Sir?  Fal. 
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-favourd: I will use her as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & there's my harvest-home.  Ford. 
I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him, if you saw him.  Fal. 
Hang him, mechanicall-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 Broome, 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 stile: thou (Master Broome) shalt know him for knave, and Cuckold. Come to me soon at night.  Ford. 
What a damned Epicurian-Rascall 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 villainous 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 Devil's 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, than she ruminates, than she devices: and what they think in their hearts they may effect; they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven 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.  Exti.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host. Caius. jacke Rugby. Rug. 
Sir.  Caius. 
Vat is the clock, jack.  Rug. 
'Tis past the hour (Sir) that Sir Hugh promised to meet.  Cai. 
By gar, he has save his soul, that he is no-come: he has pray his Bible well, that he is no-come: by gar (jack Rugby) he is dead already, if he be come.  Rug. 
He is wise Sir: he knew your worship would kill him if he came.  Cai. 
By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him: take your Rapier, (jacke) I vill tell you how I vill kill him.  Rug. 
Alas sir, I cannot fence.  Cai. 
Villainy, take your Rapier.  Rug. 
Forbear: here's company.  Host. 
‛ Bless thee, bully-Doctor.  Shal. 
'Saue you Mr. Doctor Caius.  Page. 
Now, good Mr. Doctor.  Slen. 
‛ Give you good-morrow, sir.  Caius. 
Vat be all you one, two, tree, four, come for?  Host. 
To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there, to see thee pass thy punto, thy flock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? ha' Bully? what says my Esculapius? my Galen? my heart of Elder? ha'? is he dead bully-Stale? is he dead?  Cai. 
By gar, he is the Coward-Iack-Priest of de vorld: he is not show his face.  Host. 
Thou art a Castalion-king-Vrinall: Hector of Greece (my Boy)  Cai. 
I pray you bear witness, that me have stay, six or seven, two tree hours for him, and he is no-come.  Shal. 
He is the wiser man (M. Docto) the 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.  Shal. 
Body-kins M. 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 (M. Page) we have some salt of our youth in us, we are the sons of women (M. Page.)  Page. 
'Tis true, Mr. Shallow.  Shal. 
It will be found so, (M. Page:) M. 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 patiented Churchman: you must go with me, M. Doctor.  Host 
Pardon, Guest-Iustice; a Mounseur: Mocke-water.  Cai. 
Mockwater? vat is dat?  Host. 
Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour (Bully.)  Cai. 
By gar, than I have as much Mockwater as de Englishman: scuruy-Iack-dog-Priest: by gar, me vill cut his ears.  Host. 
He will Clapperclaw thee tightly (Bully.)  Cai. 
Clapperclaw? vat is dat?  Host. 
That is, he will make thee amends.  Cai. 
Bygar, me do look he shall clapperclaw me, for bygar, me vill have it.  Host. 
And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag.  Cai. 
Me tanck you for dat.  Host. 
And moreover, (Bully) but first, Mr. Guest, and M. Page, & eke Cavalero Slender, go you through the Town to Frogmore.  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?  Shal. 
We will do it.  All. 
Adieu, good M. Doctor.  Cai. 
Bygar, me vill kill the Priest, for he speak for a jackanapes to Anne Page.  Host. 
Let him die: sheath 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: Cride-game, said I well?  Cai. 
Bygar, me dank you vor dat: by gar I love you: and I shall procure he you the good Guest: the Earl, the Knight, the Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients.  Host. 
For the which, I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page: said I well?  Cai. 
Bygar, 'tis good: well said.  Host. 
Let us wag then.  Cai. 
Come at my heels, jack Rugby.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Euans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Caius, Rugby. Euans. 
I pray you now, good Master Slenders servingman, and friend Simple by your name; which way have you looked for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Physic.  Sim. 
Marry Sir, the pity-ward, the Parke-ward: every way: old Windsor way, and every way but the Towne-way.  Euan. 
I most vehemently desire you, you will also look that way.  Sim. 
I will sir.  Euan. 
‛ Plesse my soul: how full of Cholers I am, and trembling 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: ' Plesse my soul: To shallow Ruiers to whose falls: melodious Birds sings Madrigals: There will we make our Beds of Roses: and a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow: ' Mercy on me, I have a great dispositions to cry. Melodious birds sing Madrigals:— When as I sat in Pabilon: and a thousand vagram Posies. To shallow, etc.  Sim. 
Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.  Euan. 
he's welcome: To shallow Rivers, to whose false:  
Heaven prosper the right: what weapons is he?  Sim. 
No weapons, Sir: there comes my Master, Mr. Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, over the stile, this way.  Euan. 
Pray you give me my gown, or else keep it in your arms.  Shal. 
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.  Slen. 
Ah sweet Anne Page.  Page. 
'Saue you, good Sir Hugh.  Euan. 
‛ Plesse you from his mercy-sake, all of you.  Shal. 
What? the Sword, and the Word?  
Do you study them both, Mr. Parson?  Page. 
And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw-rumaticke day?  Euan. 
There is reasons, and causes for it.  Page. 
We are come to you, to do a good office, Mr. Parson.  Euan. 
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.  Shal. 
I have lived fourscore years, and upward: I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect.  Euan. 
What is he?  Page. 
I think you know him: Mr. Doctor Caius the renowned French Physician.  Euan. 
Got's-will, and his passion of my heart: I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.  Page. 
Why?  Euan. 
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.  Slen. 
O sweet Anne Page.  Shal. 
It appears so by his weapons: keep them asunder: here comes Doctor Caius.  Page. 
Nay good Mr. Parson, keep in your weapon.  Shal. 
So do you, good Mr. Doctor.  Host. 
Disarm them, and let them question: let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.  Cai. 
I pray you let-a-mee speak a word with your ear; uherefore vill you not meet me?  Euan. 
Pray you use your patience in good time.  Cai. 
Bygar, you are de Coward: de jack dog: john Ape.  Euan. 
Pray you let us not be laughingstocks to other men's humours: I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends: I will knog your Urinal about your knave's Cogs-combe.  Cai. 
Diablo: jack Rugby: mine Host de jarteer: have I not stay for him, to kill him? have I not at deplace I did appoint?  Euan. 
As I am a Christians-soule, now look your: this is the place appointed, I'll be judgement by mine Host of the Garter.  Host. 
Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French & Welsh, Soule-Curer, and Body-Curer.  Cai. 
I, that is very good, excellant.  Host. 
Peace, I say: hear mine Host of the Garter, Am I politic? Am I subtle? Am I a Machivell?  
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-verbes. 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 burned Sack be the issue: Come, lay their swords to pawn: Fellow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow, follow.  Shal. 
Trust me, a mad Host: follow Gentlemen, follow.  Slen. 
O sweet Anne Page.  Cai. 
Ha' do I perceive dat? Have you make-a-de-sot of us, ha', ha'?  Eua. 
This is well, he has made us his ulowting-stog: I desire you that we may be friends: and let us knog our praines together to be revenge on this same scall scuruy-cogging-companion the Host of the Garter.  Cai. 
By gar, with all my heart: he promise to bring me where is Anne Page: by gar he deceive me too.  Euan. 
Well, I will smite his noddles: pray you follow.   

Scena Secunda.  Mist. Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Euans, Caius. Mist. 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?  Rob. 
I had rather (forsooth) go before you like a man, then follow him like a dwarf.  M. Pa. 
O you are a flattering boy, now I see you'll be a Courtier.  Ford. 
Well met mistress Page, whether go you.  M. Pa. 
Truly Sir, to see your wife, is she at home?  Ford. 
I, and as idle as she may hang together for want of company: I think if your husbands were dead, you two would marry.  M. Pa. 
Be sure of that, two other husbands.  Ford. 
Where had you this pretty weathercock?  M. Pa. 
I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my husband had him of, what do you call your Knight's name sirrah?  Rob. 
Sir. john Falstaff.  Ford. 
Sir. john Falstaff.  M. Pa. 
He, he, I can never hit on's name; there is such a league between my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home indeed?  Ford. 
Indeed she is.  M. Pa. 
By your leave sir, I am sick till I see her.  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 Canon will shoot pointblank twelve score: he pieces out his wife's inclination; he gives her folly motion and advantage; and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes boy with her: A man may hear this shower sing in the wind; and Falstaffes 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 Mist. Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Actaeon, and to these violent proceed all my neighbours shall cry aim. The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search, there I shall find Falstaff: I shall be rather praised for this, then mocked, for it is as positive, as the earth is firm, that Falstaff is there: I will go.  Shal. 
Page, etc. Well met Mr Ford.  Ford. 
Trust me, a good knot; I have good cheer at home, and I pray you all go with me.  Shal. 
I must excuse myself Mr Ford.  Slen. 
And so must I Sir,  
We have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne,  
And I would not break with her for more money  
Then I'll speak of.  Shal. 
We have lingered about a match between An Page, and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have our answer.  Slen. 
I hope I have your good will Father Page.  Pag. 
You have Mr Slender, I stand wholly for you,  
But my wife (Mr Doctor) is for you altogether.  Cai. 
I begar, and de Maid is love-a-me: my nursha-Quickly tell me so much  Host. 
What say you to young Mr Fenton? He caper's, 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 Pointz: 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 hearty, some of you go home with me to dinner: besides your cheer you shall have sport, I will show you a monster: Mr Doctor, you shall go, so shall you Mr Page, and you Sir Hugh.  Shal. 
Well, far you well:  
We shall have the freer wooing at Mr. Pages.  Cai. 
Go home john Rugby, I come anon.  Host. 
Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight Falstaff, and drink Canary with him.  Ford. 
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  

Scena Tertia.  Enter M. Ford, M. Page, Servants, Robin, Falstaff, Ford, Page, Caius, Euans. Mist. Ford. 
What john, what Robert.  M. Page. 
Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket—  Mis. Ford. 
I warrant. What Robin I say.  Mis. Page. 
Come, come, come.  Mist. Ford. 
here, set it down.  M. Pag. 
Give your men the charge, we must be brief.  M. Ford. 
Marry▪ as I told you before (john & Robert) be ready here hard-by in the Brewhouse, & 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 Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch, close by the Thames side.  M. Page. 
You will do it?  M. Ford. 
I ha' told them over and over, they lack no direction  
Be gone, and come when you are called.  M. Page. 
Here comes little Robin.  Mist. Ford. 
How now my Eyas-Musket, what news with you?  Rob. 
My M. Sir john is come in at your back door (Mist. Ford, and requests your company.  M. Page. 
You little jack-a-lent, have you been true to us  Rob. 
I, 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.  Mist. Pag. 
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.  Mi. Ford. 
Do so: go tell thy Master, I am alone: Mistress Page, remember you your Qu.  Mist. Pag. 
I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hisse me.  Mist. Ford. 
Go-to then: we'll use this unwholesome humidity, this grosse-watry Pompion; we'll teach him to know Turtles from jays.  Fal. 
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.  Mist. Ford. 
O sweet Sir john.  Fal. 
Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Mist. 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.  Mist. Ford. 
I your Lady Sir john? Alas, I should be a pitiful Lady.  Fal. 
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-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian admittance.  Mist. Ford. 
A plain Kerchief, Sir john:  
My brows become nothing else, nor that well neither.  Fal. 
Thou art a tyrant to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute Courtier, and the firm fixture of thy foot, would give an excellent motion to thy gate, in a semicircled Farthingale. I see what thou wert if Fortune thy foe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canst not hide it.  Mist. Ford. 
Believe me, there's no such thing in me.  Fal. 
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-manie of these lisping-hauthorne buds, that come like women in men's apparel, and smell like. Bucklers-berry in simple time: I cannot, but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deservest it.  M. Ford. 
Do not betray me sir, I fear you love M. Page.  Fal. 
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-kill.  Mis. Ford. 
Well, heaven knows how I love you,  
And you shall one day find it.  Fal. 
Keep in that mind, I'll deserve it.  Mist. Ford. 
Nay, I must tell you, so you do;  
Or else I could not be in that mind.  Rob. 
Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford: here's Mistress Page at the door, sweeting, and blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently.  Fal. 
She shall not see me, I will ensconce me behind the Arras.  M. Ford. 
Pray you do so, she's a very tattling woman. What's the matter? How now?  Mist. Page. 
O mistress Ford what have you done?  
You're shamed, ye are overthrown, ye are undone for ever.  M. Ford. 
What's the matter, good mistress Page?  M. Page. 
O welladay, mist. Ford, having an honest man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion.  M. Ford. 
What cause of suspicion?  M. Page. 
What cause of suspicion? Out upon you:  
How am I mistook in you?  M. Ford. 
Why (alas) what's the matter?  M. 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 absence: you are undone.  M. Ford. 
'Tis not so, I hope.  M. 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.  M. 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.  M. 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. Oh, how have you deceived me? Look, here is a basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here, and throw fowl linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking: Or it is whiting time, send him by your two men to Datchet-Meade:  M. Ford. 
He's too big to go in there: what shall I do?  Fal. 
Let me see't, let me see't, O let me see't:  
I'll in, I'll in: Fellow your friend's counsel, I'll in.  M. Page. 
What Sir john Faistasse? Are these your Letters, Knight?  Fal. 
I love thee, help me away: let me creep in here: I'll never—  M. Page. 
Help to cover your master (Boy:) Call your men (Mist. Ford.) You dissembling Knight.  M. Ford. 
What john, Robert, john; Go, take up these clothes here, quickly: where's the Cowlstaff? Look how you drumble? Carry them to the Laundress in Datchet mead: quickly, come.  Ford. 
Pray you come ne'er: if I suspect without cause,  
Why then make sport at me, then let me be your jest,  
I deserve it: How now? Whether bear you this?  Ser. 
To the Laundress forsooth?  M. Ford. 
Why, what have you to do whether they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing.  Ford. 
Bucke I would I could wash myself of the Buck:  
Bucke, buck, buck, I buck: I warrant you Buck,  
And of the season too; it shall appear.  
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: 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:  
Fellow me Gentlemen.  Euans. 
This is ferry fantastical humours and jealousies.  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.  Mist. Page 
Is there not a double excellency in this?  Mist. Ford. 
I know not which pleases me better,  
That my husband is deceived, or Sir john.  Mist. Page. 
What a taking was he in, when your husband asked who was in the basket?  Mist. Ford. 
I am half afraid he will have need of washing: so throwing him into the water, will do him a benefit.  Mist. Page. 
Hang him dishonest rascal: I would all of the same strain, were in the same distress.  Mist. Ford. 
I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaffs being here: for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now.  Mist. 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.  Mis. Ford. 
Shall we send that foolishion Carion, Mist. Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment?  Mist. Page. 
We will do it: let him be sent for to morrow eight a clock to have amends.  Ford. 
I cannot find him: may be the knave bragged of that he could not compass.  Mis. Page. 
Herd you that?  Mis. Ford. 
You use me well, M. Ford? Do you?  Ford. 
I, I do so.  M. Ford. 
Heaven make you better than your thoughts  Ford. 
Amen.  Mi. Page. 
You do yourself mighty wrong (M. Ford)  Ford. 
I, I: I must bear it.  Eu. 
If there be any body in the house, & in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses: heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgement.  Caius. 
Be gar, nor I too: there is nobodies.  Page. 
Fie, fie, M. 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 (M. Page) I suffer for it.  Euans. 
You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is as honest a o' man's, as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too.  Caiazzo 
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 Mi. 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.  Eu. 
If there is one, I shall make two in the Company  Ca 
If there be one, or two, I shall make-a-theturd.  Ford. 
Pray you go, M. Page.  Eua. 
I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the lousy knave, mine Host.  Cai. 
Dat is good by gar, withal my heart.  Eua. 
A lousy knave, to have his gibes, and his mockeries.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page, Mist. Page. Fen: 
I see I cannot get thy Father's love,  
Therefore no more turn me to him (sweet Nan)  Anne. 
Alas, how then?  Fen. 
Why thou must be thyself.  
He doth object, I am too great of birth,  
And that my state being galled 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.  An. 
May be he tells you true.  
No, heaven so speed me in my time to come,  
Albeit I will confess, thy Father's wealth  
Was the first motive that I wooed 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.  An. 
Gentle M. Fenton,  
Yet seek my Father's love, still seek it sir,  
If opportunity and humblest suit  
Cannot attain it, why then hark you hither.  Shal. 
Break their talk Mistress Quickly,  
My Kinsman shall speak for himself.  Slen. 
I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't, slid, 'tis but venturing.  Shal. 
Be not dismayed.  Slen. 
No, she shall not dismay me:  
I care not for that, but that I am afeard.  Qui. 
Hark ye, M. Slender would speak a word with you  An. 
I come to him. This is my Father's choice:  
O what a world of vild ill-favoured faults  
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year?  Qui. 
And how does good Master Fenton?  
Pray you a word with you.  Shal. 
she's coming; to her Coz:  
O boy, thou hadst a father.  Slen. 
I had a father (M. An) my uncle can tell you good jests of him: pray you Uncle tel Mist. Anne the jest how my Father stole two Geese out of a Pen, good Uncle.  Shal. 
Mistress Anne, my Cousin love's you.  Slen. 
I that I do, as well as I love any woman in Glocestershire.  Shal. 
He will maintain you like a Gentlewoman.  Slen. 
I that I will, come cut and longtail, under the degree of a Squire.  Shal. 
He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds' jointure.  Anne. 
Good Master Shallow let him woe for himself.  Shal. 
Marry I thank you for it: I thank you for that good comfort: she calls you (Coz) I'll leave you.  Anne. 
Now Master Slender.  Slen. 
Now good Mistress Anne.  Anne. 
What is your will?  Slen. 
My will? Odd's-hart-lings, 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. 
I mean (M. Slender) what would you with me?  Slen. 
Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing with you: your father and my uncle hath made motion,: 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.  Page. 
Now Mr Slender; Love him daughter Anne.  
Why how now? What does Mr Fenter here?  
You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my house.  
I told you Sir, my daughter is disposed of.  Fen. 
Nay Mr Page, be not impatient.  Mist. Page. 
Good M. Fenton▪ come not to my child.  Page. 
She is no match for you.  Fen. 
Sir, will you hear me?  Page. 
No, good M. Fenton.  
Come M. Shallow: Come son Slender, in;  
Knowing my mind, you wrong me (M. Fenton.)  Qui. 
Speak to Mistress Page.  Fen. 
Good Mist. Page, for that I love your daughter  
In such a righteous fashion as I do,  
Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners,  
I must advance the colours of my love,  
And not retire. Let me have your good will.  An. 
Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.  Mist. Page. 
I mean it not, I seek you a better husband.  Qui. 
That's my master, M. Doctor.  An. 
Alas I had rather be set quick i' th' earth,  
And bowled to death with Turnips.  Mist. Page. 
Come, trouble not yourself good M.  
Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:  
My daughter will I question how she love's you,  
And as I find her, so am I affected:  
Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in,  
Her father will be angry.  Fen. 
Farewell gentle Mistress: farewell Nan  Qui. 
This is my doing now: Nay, said I, will you cast away your child on a Fool, and a Physician: Look on M. Fenton, this is my doing.  Fen. 
I thank thee: and I pray thee once to night,  
Give my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy pains.  Qui. 
Now heaven send thee good fortune, a kind heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & water for such a kind heart. But yet, I would my Master had Mistress Anne, or I would M. Slender had her: or (in sooth) I would M. 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 M. Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir john Falstaff from my two Mistresses: what a beast am I to slack it.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Falstaff, Bardolfe, Quickly, Ford. Fal. 
Bardolfe I say.  Bar. 
here Sir.  Fal. 
Go, fetch me a quart of Sack, put a tossed in't. 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' th' 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 sheluy 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.  Bar. 
Here's M. Quickly Sir to speak with you.  Fal. 
Come, let me pour in some Sack to the Thames water: for my bellies as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs, for pills to cool the reines. Call her in.  Bar. 
Come in woman.  Qui. 
By your leave: I cry you mercy?  
Give your worship good morrow.  Fal. 
Take away these Chalices:  
Go, brew me a pottle of Sack finely.  Bard. 
With Eggs, Sir?  Fal. 
Simple of itself: I'll no Pullet-Spersme in my brewage. How now?  Qui. 
Marry Sir, I come to your worship from M. Ford.  Fal. 
Mist. Ford? I have had Ford enough: I was thrown into the Ford; I have my belly full of Ford.  Qui. 
Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her fault: she does so take on with her men; they mistook their erection.  Fal. 
So did I mine, to build upon a foolish Woman's promise.  Qui. 
Well, she laments Sir for it, that it would yern 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.  Fal. 
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.  Qui. 
I will tell her.  Fal. 
Do so. Between nine and ten sayest thou?  Qui. 
Eight and nine Sir.  Fal. 
Well, be gone: I will not miss her.  Qui. 
Peace be with you Sir.  Fal. 
I marvel I hear not of Mr Broome: he sent me word to stay within: I like his money well. Oh, here be comes.  Ford. 
Bless you Sir.  Fal. 
Now M. Broome, you come to know  
What hath passed between me, and Fords wife.  Ford. 
That indeed (Sir john) is my business.  Fal. 
M. Broome I will not lie to you,  
I was at her house the hour she appointed me.  Ford. 
And sped you Sir?  Fal. 
very illfavouredly M. Broome.  Ford. 
How so sir, did she change her determination?  Fal. 
No (M. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her husband (M. Broome) dwelling in a continual alarm of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, & (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 wives Love..  Ford. 
What? While you were there?  Fal. 
While I was there.  For. 
And did he search for you, & could not find you?  Fal. 
You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes in one Mist. Page▪ gives intelligence of Fords approach: and in her invention, and Fords wives distraction, they conveyed me into a bucke-basket.  Ford. 
A Buck-basket?  Fal. 
Yes: a Buck-basket: rammed me in with foul Shirts and Smocks, Socks, foul Stockings, greasy Napkins, that (Master Broome) there was the rankest compound of villainous smell, that ever offended nostril.  Ford. 
And how long lay you there?  Fal. 
Nay, you shall hear (Master Broome) what I haue suffered, to bring this woman to evil, for your good: Being thus crammed in the Basket, a couple of Fords 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 Broome) 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, he'll 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 Dutchdish) to be thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing-hot, in that serge like a Horse-shoe; think of that; hissing hot: think of that (Master Broome.)  Ford. 
In good sadness Sir, I am sorry, that for my sake you have suffered all this.  
My suit then is desperate: You'll undertake her no more?  Fal. 
Master Broome: I will be thrown into Aetna, 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 Broome.)  Ford. 
'Tis past eight already Sir.  Fal. 
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 Broome) Master Broome, you shall cuckold Ford.  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-Boxe: But least 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.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Mistress Page, Quickly, William, Euans. Mist. Pag. 
Is he at M. Fords already thinkest thou?  Qui. 
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.  Mist. Pag. 
I'll be with her by and by: I'll but bring my youngman here to School: look where his Master comes; 'tis a playing day I see: how now Sir Hugh, no School to day?  Eua. 
No: Master Slender is let the Boys leave to play.  Qui 
‛ Blessing of his heart.  Mist. Pag. 
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.  Eu. 
Come hither William; hold up your head; come.  Mist. Pag. 
Come-on Sirrah; hold up your head; answer your Master, be not afraid.  Eua. 
William, how many Numbers is in Nouns?  Will. 
Two.  Qui. 
Truly, I thought there had been one Number more, because they say od's-Nownes.  Eua. 
Peace, your tattlings. What is (Fair) William?  Will. 
Pulcher.  Qu. 
Powlcats? there are fairer things than Powlcats, sure.  Eua. 
You are a very simplicity o' man: I pray you peace. What is (Lapis) William?  Will. 
A Stone.  Eua. 
And what is a Stone (William?)  Will. 
A Peeble.  Eua. 
No; it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your brain.  Will. 
Lapis.  Eua. 
That is a good William: what is he (William) that does lend Articles.  Will. 
Articles are borrowed of the pronoun; and be thus declined. Singulariter nominativo hic haec, hoc.  Eua. 
Nominativo hig, hag, hog: pray you mark: genitivo huius: Well: what is your Accusative-case?  Will. 
Accusativo hinc.  Eua. 
I pray you have your remembrance (child) Accusativo hang, hang, hog.  Qu. 
Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you.  Eua. 
Leave your prabbles (o' man) What is the Vocative case (William?)  Will. 
O, Vocativo, O.  Eua. 
Remember William, Vocative, is caret.  Qu. 
And that's a good root.  Eua. 
O' man, forbear.  Mist. Pag. 
Peace.  Eva: 
What is your Genitive case plural (William?)  Will. 
Genitive case?  Eua. 
I.  Will. 
Genitive horum, harum, horum.  Qu. 
‛ Vengeance of Ginyes case; fie on her; never name her (child) if she be a whore.  Eua. 
For shame o' man.  Qu. 
You do ill to teach the child such words: he teaches him to hic, and to hac; which they'll do fast enough of themselves, and to call horum; fie upon you.  Euans. 
O' man, art thou Lunaties? Hast thou no understandings for thy Cases, & the numbers of the Genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would desires.  Mi. Page. 
Prithee hold thy peace.  Eu. 
Show me now (William) some declensions of your Pronouns.  Will. 
Forsooth, I have forgot.  Eu. 
It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies, your Ques, and your Quods, you must be breeches: Go your ways and play, go.  M. Pag. 
He is a better scholar than I thought he was.  Eu. 
He is a good sprag-memory: Farewell Mis. Page.  Mis. Page. 
Adieu good Sir Hugh:  
Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Falstoffe, Mist. Ford, Mist. Page, Servants, Ford, Page, Caius, Euans, Shallow. Fal. 
Mi. 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 Mist. Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accustrement, compliment, and ceremony of it: But are you sure of your husband now?  Mis. Ford. 
he's a birding (sweet Sir john.)  Mis. Page. 
What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa.  Mis. Ford. 
Step into th' chamber, Sir john.  Mis. Page. 
How now (sweet heart) whose at home besides yourself?  Mistress Ford 
Why none but mine own people.  Mis. Page. 
Indeed?  Mis. Ford. 
No certainly: Speak louder.  Mist. Pag. 
Truly, I am so glad you have no body here.  Mist. Ford. 
Why?  Mis. Page. 
Why woman, your husband is in his old lines 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 buffettes himself on the forehead: crying peere-out, peere-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.  Mist. Ford. 
Why, does he talk of him?  Mist. 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, & 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.  Mist. Ford. 
How near is he Mistress Page?  Mist. Pag. 
Hard by, at street end; he will be here anon.  Mist. Ford. 
I am undone, the Knight is here.  Mist. Page. 
Why then you are utterly shamed, & he's but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with him, away with him▪ Better shame, than murder.  Mist. Ford. 
Which way should he go? How should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket again?  Fal. 
No, I'll come no more i' th' Basket:  
May I not go out ere he come?  Mist. Page. 
Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch the door with Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise you might slip away ere he came: But what make you here?  Fal. 
What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney.  Mist. Ford. 
There they always use to discharge their Birding-peeces: creep into the Kill-hole.  Fal. 
Where is it?  Mist. 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.  Fal. 
I'll go out then.  Mist. Ford. 
If you go out in your own semblance, you die Sir john, unless you go out disguised.  Mist. Ford. 
How might we disguise him?  Mist. 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.  Fal. 
Good hearts, device something: any extremity, rather than a mischief.  Mist. Ford. 
My Maid's Aunt the fat woman of Brainford, has a gown above.  Mist. 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.  Mist. Ford. 
Go, go, sweet Sir john: Mistriis Page and I will look some linen for your head.  Mist. Page. 
Quick, quick, we'll come dress you strait: put on the gown the while.  Mist. Ford. 
I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her.  Mist. Page. 
Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel: and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards.  Mist. Ford. 
But is my husband coming?  Mist. Page. 
I in good sadness is he, and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.  Mist. 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.  Mist. Page. 
Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go dress him like the witch of Brainford.  Mist. Ford. 
I'll first direct direct my men, what they shall do with the basket: Go up, I'll bring linen for him strait.  Mist. Page. 
Hang him dishonest Varlet,  
We cannot misuse 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 eats all the draugh.  Mist. 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.  1 Ser. 
Come, come, take it up.  2 Ser. 
Pray heaven it be not full of Knight again.  1 Ser. 
I hope not, I had lief as bear so much lead.  Ford. 
I, but if it prove true (Mr. Page) have you any way then to unfoole me again. Set down the basket villain: some body call my wife: Youth in a basket: Oh you Panderly Rascals, there's a knot: a gin, 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 M. Ford: you are not to go lose any longer, you must be pinioned.  Euans. 
Why, this is Lunatics: this is mad, as a mad dog.  Shall. 
Indeed M. Ford, thy is not well indeed.  Ford. 
So say I too Sir, 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?  Mist. Ford. 
Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty.  Ford. 
Well said Brazon-face, hold it out: Come forth sirrah.  Page. 
This passes.  Mist. Ford. 
Are you not ashamed, let the clothes alone.  Ford. 
I shall find you anon.  Eua. 
'Tis unreasonable; will you take up your wife's clothes? Come, away.  Ford. 
Empty the basket I say.  M. 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.  Mist. Ford. 
If you find a man there, he shall dye a Fleas death.  Page. 
here's no man.  Shal. 
By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This wrongs you.  Euans. 
Mr 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 no where 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, that searched a hollow Walnut for his wife's Leman. Satisfy me once more, once more search with me.  M. Ford. 
What hoa (Mistress Page,) come you and the old woman down: my husband will come into the Chamber.  Ford. 
Old woman? what old woman's that?  M. Ford. 
Why it is my maid's Aunt of Brainford.  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 th' Figure, & such dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: we know nothing. Come down you Witch, you Hag you, come down I say.  Mist. Ford. 
Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen, let him strike the old woman.  Mist. Page. 
Come mother Prat, Come give me your hand.  Ford. 
I'll Prat-her: Out of my door, you Witch, you Rag, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion, out, out: I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.  Mist. Page. 
Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the poor woman.  Mist. Ford. 
Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credit for you.  Ford. 
Hang her witch.  Eua. 
By yea, and no, I think the o' man is a witch indeed: I like not when a o' man has a great beard; I spy a great beard 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.  Mist. Page. 
Trust me he beat him most pitifully.  Mist. Ford. 
Nay by th' Mass that he did not: he beat him most unpittifully, me thought.  Mist. Page. 
I'll have the cudgel hallowed, and hung over the Altar, it hath done meritorious service.  Mist. Ford. 
What think you? May we with the warrant of woman hood, and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge?  M. 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.  Mist. Ford. 
Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?  Mist. 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 unuertuous fat Knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the ministers.  Mist. Ford. 
I'll warrant, they'll have him publicly shamed, and me thinks there would be no period to the jest, should he not be publicly shamed.  Mist. Page. 
Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it:  
I would not have things cool.  Exeunt  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Host and Bardolfe. Bar. 
Sir, the german desires 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?  Bar. 
I Sir? I'll call him to you.  Host. 
They shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay: I'll sauce them, they have had my houses a week at command: I have turned away my other guests, they must come off, I'll sauce them, come.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Euans. Eua. 
'Tis one of the best discretions of a o' man as ever I did look upon.  Page. 
And did he send you both these Letters at an instant?  Mist. Page. 
Within a quarter of an hour.  Ford. 
Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what thou wilt:  
I rather will suspect the Sun with gold,  
Then 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.  Eu. 
You say he has been thrown in the Rivers: and has been grievously beaten, as an old o' man: 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.  M. Ford. 
Device 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 rag'd-hornes,  
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,  
And make milk-cows 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 Hernes Oak:  
But what of this?  Mist. Ford. 
Marry this is our devise,  
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?  Mist. Pa. 
That likewise have we thought upon: & 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 waxed 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 saw-pit 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.  Ford. 
And till he tell the truth,  
Let the supposed Fairies pinch him, sound,  
And burn him with their Tapers.  Mist Page. 
The truth being known,  
We'll all present ourselves; dis-horne the spirit,  
And mock him home to Windsor.  Ford. 
The children must  
Be practised well to this, or they'll ne'er do't.  Eua. 
I will teach the children their behaviours: and I will be like a jacke-an-apes also, to burn the Knight with my Taber.  Ford. 
That will be excellent,  
I'll go buy them vizards.  Mist. 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, and in that time  
Shall M. Slender steal my Nan away,  
And marry her at Eaton: go, send to Falstaff strait.  Ford. 
Nay, I'll to him again in name of Broome,  
he'll tell me all his purpose: sure he'll come.  Mist. Page. 
Fear not you that: Go get us properties  
And tricking for our Fairies.  Euans. 
Let us about it,  
It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaveries.  Mis. Page. 
Go Mist. Ford,  
Send quickly to Sir john, to know his mind:  
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 moneyed, and his friends  
Potent at Court: he, none but he shall have her,  
Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her.   

Scena Quinta.  Enter Host, Simple, Falstaff, Bardolfe, Euans, Caius, Quickly. Host. 
What wouldst thou have? (Boor) what? (thick skin) speak, breathe, discuss: brief, short, quick, snap.  Simp. 
Marry Sir, I come to speak with Sir john Falstaff from M. 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: he'll speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee: Knock I say.  Simp. 
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.  Fal. 
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.  Fal. 
There was (mine Host) an old-fat-woman even now with me, but she's gone.  Simp. 
Pray you Sir, was't not the Wise-woman of Brainford?  Fal. 
I marry was it (Mussel-shell) what would you with her?  Simp. 
My Master (Sir) my master Slender, sent to her seeing her go through the streets, to know (Sir) whether one Nim (Sir) that beguiled him of a chain, had the chain, or no.  Fal. 
I spoke with the old woman about it.  Sim. 
And what says she, I pray Sir?  Fal. 
Marry she says, that the very same man that beguiled Master Slender of his Chain, cozoned him of it.  Simp. 
I would I could have spoken with the Woman herself, I had other things to have spoken with her too, from him.  Fal. 
What are they? let us know.  Host. 
I: come: quick.  Fal. 
I may not conceal them (Sir.)  Host. 
Conceal them, or thou diest.  Sim. 
Why sir, they were nothing but about Mistress Anne Page, to know if it were my Master's fortune to have her, or no.  Fal. 
'Tis, 'tis his fortune.  Sim. 
What Sir?  Fal. 
To have her, or no: go; say the woman told me so.  Sim. 
May I be bold to say so Sir?  Fal. 
I Sir: like who more bold.  Sim. 
I thank your worship: I shall make my Master glad with these tidings.  Host. 
Thou are clearkly: thou art clearkly (Sir john) was there a wise woman with thee?  Fal. 
I 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.  Bar. 
Out alas (Sir) cozonage: mere cozonage.  Host. 
Where be my horses? speak well of them varletto.  Bar. 
Run away with the cozoners: for so soon as I came beyond Eaton, they threw me off, from behind one of them, in a slough of mire; and set spurs, and away; like three Germane-divels; three Doctor Faustaffes.  Host. 
They are gone but to meet the Duke (villain) do not say they be fled: Germans are honest men.  Euan. 
Where is mine Host?  Host. 
What is the matter Sir?  Euan. 
Have a care of your entertainments: there is a friend of mine come to Town, tells me there is three Cozen-Iermans, that has cozened all the Hosts of Readins, of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horses and money: I tell you for good will (look you) you are wise, and full of gibes, and ulouting-stocks: and 'tis not convenient you should be cozoned. Far you well.  Cai. 
Ver' is mine Host de jarteere?  Host. 
Here (Master Doctor) in perplexity, and doubtful dilemma.  Cai. 
I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, that you make grand preparation for a Duke de jamanie: by my trot: der is no Duke that the Court is know, to come: I tell you for good will: adieu.  Host. 
Hue and cry, (villain) go: assist me Knight, I am undone: fly, run: hue, and cry (villain) I am undone.  Fal. 
I would all the world might be cozond, for I have been cozond 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 cudgeled, they would melt me out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor Fishermens-boots with me: I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as crest-fallen as a dride-peare: I never prospered, since I forswore myself at Primero: well, if my wind were but long enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come you?  Qui. 
From the two parties forsooth.  Fal. 
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 villainous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to bear.  Qui. 
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.  Fal. 
What tell'st 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 Brainford, but that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman delivered me, the knave Constable had set me i'th' Stocks, i'th' common Stocks, for a Witch.  Queen▪ 
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.  Fal. 
Come up into my Chamber.  Exeunt.  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Fenton, Host. Host. 
Master Fenton, talk not to me, my mind is heavy: I will give over all.  Fen. 
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.  Fen. 
From time to time, I have acquainted you  
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page,  
Who, mutually, hath answered my affection,  
(So fare 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 Hernes-Oke, just 'twixt twelve and one,  
Must my sweet Nan present the Faerie-Queene:  
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 Eaton  
Immediately to Marry: She hath consented: Now Sir,  
Her Mother, (even 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 devote her to the Doctor;  
For they must all be masked, and vizarded)  
That acquaint in green, she shall be lose en-roabed,  
With Ribonds-pendant, 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.  Fen. 
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.  Fen. 
So shall I evermore be bound to thee;  
Besides, I'll make a present recompense.  Exeunt   

Actus Quintus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford. Fal. 
Prithee no more prattling: go, I'll hold, this is the third time: I hope good luck lies in odd numbers: Away, go, they say there is Divinity in odd Numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death: away.  Qai. 
I'll provide you a chain, and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns.  Fall. 
Away I say, time wears, hold up your head & mince. How now M. Broome? Master Broome, the matter will be known to night, or never. Be you in the Park about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall see wonders.  Ford. 
Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told me you had appointed?  Fal. 
I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a poore-old-man, but I came from her (Master Broome) like a poore-old-woman; that same knave (Ford her husband) hath the sinest mad devil of jealousy in him (Master Broome) 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 Broome) 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 Broome:) since I plucked Geese, played Trewant, and whipped Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till lately. Fellow 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. Fellow, strange things in hand (M. Broome) follow.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Page, Shallow, Slender. Page. 
Come, come: we'll couch i' th' Castle-ditch, till we see the light of our Fairies. Remember son Slender, my  Slen. 
I forsooth, I have spoke with her, & 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.  Shal. 
That's good too: But what needs either your Mum, or her Budget? The white will decipher her well enough. It hath strooke ten a'clocke.  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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Mist. Page, Mist. Ford, Caius. Mist. Page. 
Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the Deaverie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into the Park: we two must go together.  Cai. 
I know vat I have to do, adieu.  Mist. Page. 
Far you well (Sir.) my husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the Doctors marrying my daughter: But 'tis no matter; better a little chiding, than a great deal of heartbreak.  Mist. Ford. 
Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies? and the Welch-devill Herne?  Mist. Page. 
They are all couched in a pit hard by Hernes Oak, with obscured Lights; which at the very instant of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to the night.  Mist. Ford. 
That cannot choose but amaze him.  Mist. Page. 
If he be not amazed he will be mocked: If he be amazed, he will every way be mocked.  Mist. Ford. 
we'll betray him finely.  Mist. Page. 
Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery,  
Those that betray them, do no treachery.  Mist. Ford. 
The hour drawes-on: to the Oak, to the Oak.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Euans and Fairies. Euans. 
Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your parts: be bold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and when I give the watch-words, do as I bid you: Come, come, trib, trib.  Exeunt▪  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Falstaff, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, Euans, Anne Page, Fairy's, Page, Ford, Quickly, Slender, Fenton, Caius, Pistol. Fal. 
The Windsor-bell hath struck twelve: the Minute drawes-on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me: Remember lou●, thou was't 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 ne'er 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 fowle-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' th' Forest. Send me a cool rut-time (jove) or who can blame me to piss my Tallow? Who comes here? my Do?  M. Ford. 
Sir john? Art thou there (my Deer?)  
My male-Deere?  Fal. 
My do, with the black Scut? Let the sky rain Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greenesleeves, haile-kissing Comfits, and snow Eringoes: Let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.  M. Ford. 
Mistress Page is come with me (sweet hart.)  Fal. 
Divide me like a brib'd-Bucke, 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.  M. Page. 
Alas, what noise?  M. Ford. 
Heaven forgive our sins.  Fal. 
What should this be?  M. Ford. M. Page. 
Away, away.  Fal. 
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 Fairy's. Qui. 
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 Hobgoblyn, make the Fairy Oyes.  Pissed. 
Elves, list your names: Silence you airy toys.  
Cricket, to Windsor-chimnies shalt thou leap;  
Where fires thou findest vnraked, and hearths unswept,  
There pinch the Maids as blue as Bill-berry,  
Our radiant Queen, hates Sluts, and Sluttery.  Fal. 
They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die,  
I'll wink, and couch: No man their works must eye.  Eu. 
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, & shins.  Qu. 
About, about:  
Search Windsor Castle (Elves) within, and out.  
Strew good ●k● (Ouphes) on every sacred room,  
That it may stand till the perpetual doom,  
In state as wholesome, as in state 'tis sit,  
Worthy the Owner, and the Owner it.  
The several Chain of Order, took you s●owre  
With juice of Balm; and every precious flower,  
Each fair Instalment, Coat, and several Crest,  
With loyal Blazon, evermore be blessed.  
And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, look you sing  
Like to the Garters-Compasse, in a ring,  
Th' expressure that it bears: Greene let it be,  
Moat fertile-fresh than all the Field to see:  
And, Hony Soit Qui Mal-y-pences, writ  
In Emrold-tuffes, Flowers purple, blue, and white,  
Like Saphire-pearle, and rich embroidery,  
Buckled below fair Knighthood's bending knee;  
Fairies use Flowers for their characterie.  
Away, disperse: But till 'tis one a clock,  
Our Dance of Custom, round about the Oak  
Of Herne the Hunter, let us not forget.  Euan. 
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.  Fal. 
Heaven's defend me from that Welsh Fairy,  
Lest he transform me to a piece of Cheese.  Pissed. 
Vild worm, thou wast o'erlooked even in thy birth.  Qu. 
With Triall-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 hart.  Pissed. 
A trial, come.  Eua. 
Come: will this wood take fire?  Fal. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Qui. 
Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire.  
About him (Fairy's) sing a scornful rhyme,  
And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.  

The 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 (Fairy's) mutually: Pinch him for his villainy.  
Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,  
Till Candles, & Starlight, & Moonshine be out.   Page. 
Nay do not fly, I think we have watched you now: Will none but Herne the Hunter serve your turn?  M. 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, whose a Cuckold now?  
Mr Broom, Falstaffes a Knave, a Cuckoldly knave,  
here are his horns Master Broome:  
And Master Broome, he hath enjoyed nothing of Fords, but his Buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Mr Broome, his horses are arrested for it, Mr Broome.  M. 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.  Fal. 
I do begin to perceive that I am made an Ass.  Ford. 
I, and an Ox too: both the proofs are extant.  Fal. 
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, driven 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 jacke-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment.  Euant. 
Sir john Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and Fairies will not pinch you.  Ford. 
Well said Fairy Hugh.  Euans. 
And leave you your iealouzies too, I pray you.  Ford. 
I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woe her in good English.  Fal. 
Have I laid my brain in the Sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross ore-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh Goat too? Shall I have a Coxcomb of Freeze? 'tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted Cheese.  Eu. 
Cheese is not good to give butter; your belly is all butter.  Fal. 
Cheese, and butter? 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.  Mist. Page. 
Why Sir john, do you think though we would have thrust 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?  Mist. Page. 
A puffed man?  Page. 
Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrailes?  Ford. 
And one that is as slanderous as Satan?  Page. 
And as poor as job?  Ford. 
And as wicked as his wife?  Euan. 
And given to Fornications, and to Taverns, and Sack, and Wine, and Metheglins, and to drink and swear, and stare? Pribbles and prabbles?  Fal. 
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 Mr Broome, that you have cozoned 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 Mr Slender hath married her daughter.  Mist. Page. 
Doctors doubt that;  
If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctor Caius wife.  Slen. 
Whoa ho, ho, Father Page.  Page. 
Son? How now? How now Son,  
Have you dispatched?  Slen. 
Dispatched? I'll make the best in Gloftershire know on't: would I were hanged lafoy, else.  Page. 
Of what son?  Slen. 
I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i' th' 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 Postmasters Boy.  Page. 
Upon my life then, you took the wrong.  Slen. 
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?  Slen. 
I went to her in green, and cried Mum, and she cried budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a Postmasters boy.  Mist. Page. 
Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turned my daughter into white, and indeed she is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and there married.  Cai. 
Ver is Mistress Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha' married oon Garsoon, a boy; oon peasant, by gar. A boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozened.  M. Page. 
Why? did you take her in white?  Cai. 
I be gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, I'll raise all Windsor.  Ford. 
This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne?  Page. 
My heart misgives me, here comes Mr Fenton.  
How now Mr Fenton?  Anne. 
Pardon good father, good my mother pardon  Page. 
Now Mistress:  
How chance you went not with Mr Slender?  M. Page. 
Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid?  Fen. 
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:  
Th' 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.  Fal. 
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 eschewed, must be embraced.  Fal. 
When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deer are chased.  Mist. Page. 
Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton,  
Heaven give you many, many merry days:  
Good husband, let us every one go home,  
And laugh this sport over by a Country fire,  
Sir john and all.  Ford. 
Let it be so (Sir john:)  
To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word,  
For he, to night, shall lie with Mistress Ford▪  Exeunt.   
FINIS.   

MEASURE, For Measure.  

Actus primus,  

Scena prima.  Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords. Duke. 
EScalus.  Esc. 
My Lord.  Duk. 
Of Government, the properties to unfold,  
Would seem in me t' affect speech & 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, ye are 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:  
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, dressed him with our love,  
And given his Deputation all the Organs  
Of our own power: What think you of it?  Esc. 
If any in Vienna be of worth  
To undergo such ample grace, and honour,  
It is Lord Angelo.  Enter Angelo. Duk. 
Look where he comes.  Ang. 
Always obedient to your Grace's will▪  
I come to know your pleasure.  Duke. 
Angelo:  
There is a kind of Character in thy life,  
That to th' observer, doth thy history  
Fully unfold: Thyself, and thy belong  
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 touched,  
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.  Ang. 
Now good my Lord  
Let there be some more test, made of my mettle,  
Before so noble, and so great a figure  
Be stamped upon it.  Duk. 
No more evasion:  
We have with a leavened, 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 unquestioned  
Matters of needful value: We shall write to you  
As time, and our concern shall importune,  
How it goes with us, and do look to know  
What doth befall you here. So far you well:  
To th' hopeful execution do I leave you,  
Of your Commissions.  Ang. 
Yet give leave (my Lord▪)  
That we may bring you something on the way.  Duk. 
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:  
Though 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 far you well.  Ang. 
The heavens give safety to your purposes.  Esc. 
Led forth, and bring you back in happiness.  Exit. Duk. 
I thank you, far you well.  Esc. 
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.  Ang. 
'Tis so with me: Let us withdraw together,  
And we may soon our satisfaction have  
Touching that point.  Esc. 
I'll wait upon your honour.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen. Luc. 
If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the Duke's fall upon the King.  1. Gent. 
Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungaries'.  2. Gent. 
Amen.  Luc. 
Thou concludest like the Sanctimonious Pirate, that went to sea with the ten Commandments, but scraped one out of the Table.  2. Gent. 
Thou shalt not Steal?  Luc. 
I, that he razed.  1. Gent. 
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 rallish the petition well, that prays for peace.  2. Gent. 
I never heard any Soldier dislike it.  Luc. 
I believe thee: for I think thou never was't where Grace was said.  2. Gent. 
No? a dozen times at least.  1. Gent. 
What? In meeter?  Luc. 
In any proportion. or in any language.  1. Gent. 
I think, or in any Religion.  Luc. 
I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despite of all controversy: as for example; Thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all Grace.  1. Gent. 
Well: there went but a pair of shears between us.  Luc. 
I grant: as there may between the Lists, and the Velvet. Thou art the List.  1. Gent. 
And thou the Velvet; thou art good velvet; thou'rt a three pild-peece 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?  Luc. 
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.  1. Gen. 
I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?  2. Gent. 
Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted, or free.  Enter Bawd. Luc. 
Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes. I have purchased as many diseases under her Roof, As come to  2. Gent. 
To what, I pray?  Luc. 
judge.  2. Gent. 
To three thousand dolours a year.  1. Gent. 
I, and more.  Luc. 
A French crown more.  1. Gent. 
Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error, I am sound.  Luc. 
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.  1. Gent. 
How now, which of your hips has the most profound Ciatica?  Bawd. 
Well, well: there's one yonder arrested, and carried to prison, was worth five thousand of you all.  2. Gent. 
Who's that I pray'thee?  Bawd. 
Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.  1. Gent. 
Claudio to prison? 'tis not so.  Bawd. 
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.  Luc. 
But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so: Art thou sure of this?  Bawd. 
I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam julietta with child.  Luc. 
Believe me this may be: he promised to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise keeping.  2. Gent. 
Besides you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose.  1. Gent. 
But most of all agreeing with the proclamation.  Luc. 
Away: let's go learn the truth of it.  Exit. Bawd. 
Thus, what with the war; what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am Custom-shrunke. How now? what's the news with you.  Enter Clown. Clo. 
Yonder man is carried to prison.  Baw. 
Well: what has he done?  Clo. 
A Woman.  Baw. 
But what's his offence?  Clo. 
Groping for Trout, in a peculiar River.  Baw. 
What? is there a maid with child by him?  Clo. 
No: but there's a woman with maid by him you have not heard of the proclamation, have you?  Baw. 
What proclamation, man?  Clow. 
All houses in the Suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down.  Bawd. 
And what shall become of those in the City?  Clow. 
They shall stand for seed: they had gone down to, but that a wise Burger put in for them.  Bawd. 
But shall all our houses of resort in the Suburbs be pulled down?  Clow. 
To the ground, Mistress.  Bawd. 
Why here's a change indeed in the Commonwealth: what shall become of me?  Clow. 
Come: fear not you: 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.  Bawd. 
What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? let's withdraw?  Clo. 
Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Provost to prison: and there's Madam juliet.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Provost, Claudio, juliet, Officers, Lucio, & 2. Gent. Cla. 
Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' world? Bear me to prison, where I am committed.  Pro. 
I do it not in evil disposition, But from Lord Angelo by special charge.  Clau. 
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.  Luc. 
Why how now Claudio▪ whence comes this restraint.  Cla. 
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 ravyn down their proper Bane,  
A thirsty evil, and when we drink, we die.  Luc. 
If I 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 mortality of imprisonment: what's thy offence, Claudio?  Cla. 
What (but to speak of) would offend again.  Luc. 
What, is't murder?  Cla. 
No.  Luc. 
Lechery?  Cla. 
Call it so.  Pro. 
Away, Sir, you must go.  Cla. 
One word, good friend:  
Lucio, a word with you.  Luc. 
A hundred:  
If they'll do you any good: Is Lechery so looked after?  Cla. 
Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract  
I got possession of julietas 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 propogation of a Dowry  
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.  Luc. 
With child, perhaps?  Cla. 
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 Eminence that fills it up  
I stagger in: But this new Governor  
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties  
Which have (like vn-scowred Armour) hung by th' 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.  Luc. 
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.  Cla. 
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.  Luc. 
I pray she may; aswell 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.  Cla. 
I thank you good friend Lucio.  Luc. 
Within two hours.  Cla. 
Come Officer, away.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Duke and Friar Thomas. Duk. 
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.  Fri. 
May your Grace speak of it?  Duk. 
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, witless bravery keeps.  
I have delivered to Lord Angelo  
(A man of stricture and firm abstinence)  
My absolute power, and place here in Vienna,  
And he supposes me travailed to Poland,  
(For so I have strewed it in the common ear)  
And so it is received: Now (pious Sir)  
You will demand of me, why I do this.  Fri. 
Gladly, my Lord.  Duk. 
We have strict Statutes, and most biting Laws,  
(The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds,)  
Which for this fourteen years, we have let slip,  
Even like an o'ergrown Lion in a Cave  
That goes not out to pray: 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  
More mocked, then feared: so our Decrees,  
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead,  
And liberty, plucks justice by the nose;  
The Baby beats the Nurse, and quite a thwart  
Goes all decorum.  Fri. 
It rested in your Grace  
To unloose this tyde-up justice, when you pleased:  
And it in you more dreadful would have seemed  
Then in Lord Angelo.  Duk. 
I do fear: too dreadful:  
Sith 'twas my fault, to give the people scope,  
IT would 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 th' 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  
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 then stone: hence shall we see  
If power change purpose: what our Seemers be.  Exit.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Isabella and Francisca a Nun. Isa. 
And have you Nuns no farther privileges?  Nun. 
Are not these large enough?  Isa. 
Yes truly; I speak not as desiring more,  
But rather wishing a more strict restraint  
Upon the Sisterstood, the Votarists of Saint Clare.  Lucio within. Luc. 
Hoa? peace be in this place.  Isa: 
Who's that which calls?  Nun. 
It is a man's voice: gentle Isabel  
Turn you the key, and know his business of him;  
You may; I may not: you are yet unsworne:  
When you have vowed, 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.  Isa. 
Peace and prosperity: who is't that calls?  Luc. 
Hail Virgin, (if you be) as those cheeke-Roses  
Proclaim you are no less: can you so steed me,  
As bring me to the fight of Isabel,  
A Novice of this place, and the fair Sister  
To her unhappy brother Claudio?  Isa. 
Why her unhappy Brother? Let me ask,  
The rather for I now must make you know  
I am that Isabel, and his Sister.  Luc. 
Gentle & fair: your Brother kindly greets you;  
Not to be weary with you; he's in prison.  Isa. 
Woe me; for what?  Luc. 
For that, which if myself might be his judge,  
He should receive his punishment, in thankes:  
He hath got his friend with child.  Isa. 
Sir, make me not your story.  Luc. 
'Tis true; I would not, though 'tis my familiar sin,  
With Maids to seem the Lap wing, and to jest  
Tongue, far from heart: play with all Virgins so:  
I hold you as a thing en-skied, and sainted,  
By your renouncement, an immortal spirit  
And to be talked with in sincerity,  
As with a Saint.  Isa. 
You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me.  Luc. 
Do not believe it: fewnes, and truth; 'tis thus,  
Your brother, and his lover have embraced;  
As those that feed, grow full: as blossoming Time  
That from the seednes, the bare fallow brings  
To teeming foison: even so her plenteous womb  
Expresseth his full Tilth, and husbandry.  Isa. 
Some one with child by him? my cousin juliet?  Luc. 
Is she your cousin?  Isa. 
Adoptedly, as schoole-maids change their names By vain, though apt affection.  Luc. 
She it is.  Isa. 
Oh, let him marry her.  Luc. 
This is the point.  
The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;  
Bore many gentlemen (my self being one)  
In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn,  
By those that know the very Nerves of State,  
His giving-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 picked 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.  Isa. 
Doth he so,  
Seek his life?  Luc. 
Has censured him already,  
And as I hear, the Provost hath a warrant  
For's execution.  Isa. 
Alas: what poor Abilitie's in me, to do him good.  Luc. 
Assay the power you have.  Isa. 
My power? alas, I doubt.  Luc. 
Our doubts are traitors  
And makes 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.  Isa. 
I'll see what I can do.  Luc. 
But speedily.  Isa. 
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.  Luc. 
I take my leave of you.  Isa. 
Good sir, adieu.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Angelo, Escalus, and servants, justice. Ang. 
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.  Esc. 
I, but yet  
Let us be keen, and rather cut a little  
Then 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 straight in virtue)  
That in the working of your own affections,  
Had time coheard with Place, or place with wishing,  
Or that the resolute acting of our blood  
Can have attained th' effect of your own purpose,  
Whether you had not sometime in your life  
Erred in this point, which now you censure him,  
And pulled the Law upon you.  Ang. 
'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 sworne-twelue have a thief, or two  
Guiltier than him they try; what's open made to justice,  
That justice seizes; What knows the Laws  
That thiefs do pass on thiefs? '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 judgement pattern out my death,  
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must dye.  Enter Provost. Esc. 
Be it as your wisdom will.  Ang. 
Where is the Provost?  Pro. 
Here if it like your honour.  Ang. 
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.  Esc. 
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, Froth, Clown, Officers. Elb. 
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.  Ang. 
How now Sir, what's your name? And what's the matter?  Elb. 
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.  Ang. 
Benefactors? Well: What Benefactors are they? Are they not Malefactors?  Elb. 
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.  Esc. 
This comes off well: here's a wise Officer.  Ang. 
Go to: What quality are they of? Elbow is your name?  
Why dost thou not speak Elbow?  Clo. 
He cannot Sir: he's out at Elbow.  Ang. 
What are you Sir?  Elb. 
He Sir: a Tapster Sir: parcel Bawd: one that serves a bad woman: whose house Sir was (as they say) plucked down in the Suborbs: and now she professes a hothouse; which, I think is a very ill house too.  Esc. 
How know you that?  Elb. 
My wife Sir? whom I detest before heaven, and your honour.  Esc. 
How? thy wife?  Elb. 
I Sir: whom I thank heaven is an honest woman.  Esc. 
Dost thou detest her therefore?  Elb. 
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.  Esc. 
How dost thou know that, Constable?  Elb. 
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.  Esc. 
By the woman's means?  Elb. 
I sir, by Mistress Ouer-dons means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him.  Clo. 
Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.  Elb. 
Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man, prove it.  Esc. 
Do you hear how he misplaces?  Clo. 
Sir, she came in great with child: and longing (saving your honour's reverence) for stewed prewyns; 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.  Esc. 
Go too: go too: no matter for the dish sir.  Clo. 
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 prewyns: and having but two in the dish (as I said) Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest (as I said) & (as I say) paying for them very honestly: for, as you know Master Froth, I could not give you three pence again.  Fro. 
No indeed.  Clo. 
Very well: you being then (if you be remembered) cracking the stones of the foresaid prewyns.  Fro. 
I, so I did indeed.  Clo. 
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 wots of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you.  Fro. 
All this is true.  Clo. 
Why very well then.  Esc. 
Come: you are a tedious fool: to the purpose: what was done to Elbows wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her.  Clo. 
Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.  Esc. 
No sir, nor I mean it not.  Clo. 
Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honours leave: And I beseech you, look into Master Froth here sir, a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas: Was't not at Hallowmas Master Froth?  Fro. 
Allhallond-Eue.  Clo. 
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?  Fro. 
I have so, because it is an open room, and good for winter.  Clo. 
Why very well then: I hope here be truths.  Ang. 
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.  Exit. Esc. 
I think no less: good morrow to your Lordship. Now Sir, come on: What was done to Elbows wife, once more?  Clo. 
Once Sir? there was nothing done to her once.  Elb. 
I beseech you Sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.  Clo. 
I beseech your honour, ask me.  Esc. 
Well sir, what did this Gentleman to her?  Clo. 
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?  Esc. 
I sir, very well.  Clo. 
Nay, I beseech you mark it well.  Esc. 
Well, I do so.  Clo. 
Doth your honour see any harm in his face?  Esc. 
Why no.  Clo. 
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.  Esc. 
He's in the right (Constable) what say you to it?  Elb. 
First, and it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his Mistress is a respected woman.  Clo. 
By this hand Sir, his wife is a more respected person then any of us all.  Elb. 
Varlet, thou liest; thou liest wicked varlet: the time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.  Clo. 
Sir, she was respected with him, before he married with her.  Esc. 
Which is the wiser here; justice or Iniquity? Is this true?  Elb. 
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.  Esc. 
If he took you a box' o'th' ear, you might have your action of slander too.  Elb. 
Marry I thank your good worship for it: what is't your Worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked Caitiff?  Esc. 
Truly Officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou wouldst discover, if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou know'st what they are.  Elb. 
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.  Esc. 
Where were you borne, friend?  Froth. 
Here in Vienna, Sir.  Esc. 
Are you of fourscore pounds a year?  Froth. 
Yes, and it please you sir.  Esc. 
So: what trade are you of, sir?  Clo. 
A Tapster, a poor widow's Tapster.  Esc. 
Your Mistress name?  Clo. 
Mistress Overdone.  Esc. 
Hath she had any more than one husband?  Clo. 
Nine, sir: Ouerdon by the last.  Esc. 
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.  Fro. 
I thank your worship: for mine own part, I never come into any room in a Taphouse, but I am drawn in.  Esc. 
Well: no more of it Master Froth: farewell: Come you hither to me, Mr. Tapster: what's your name Mr. Tapster?  Clo. 
Pompey.  Esc. 
What else?  Clo. 
Bum, Sir.  Esc. 
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.  Clo. 
Truly sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.  Esc. 
How would you live Pompey? by being a bawd? what do you think of the trade Pompey? is it a lawful trade?  Clo. 
If the Law would allow it, sir.  Esc. 
But the Law will not allow it Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.  Clo. 
Does your Worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the City?  Esc. 
No, Pompey.  Clo. 
Truly Sir, in my poor opinion they will too't then: if your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.  Esc. 
There is pretty order's beginning I can tell you: It is but heading, and hanging.  Clo. 
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 rend the fairest house in it after three pence a Bay: if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so.  Esc. 
Thank you good Pompey; and in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advice 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 whipped; so for this time, Pompey, far you well.  Clo. 
I thank your Worship for your good counsel; 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's not whipped out of his trade.  Exit. Esc. 
Come hither to me, Master Elbow: come hither Master Constable: how long have you been in this place of Constable?  Elb. 
Seven year, and a half sir.  Esc. 
I thought by the readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time: you say seven years together.  Elb. 
And a half sir.  Esc. 
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?  Elb. 
I'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.  Esc. 
Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.  Elb. 
To your Worship's house sir?  Esc. 
To my house: far you well: what's a clock, think you?  Iust. 
Eleven, Sir.  Esc. 
I pray you home to dinner with me.  Just. 
I humbly thank you.  Esc. 
It grieves me for the death of Claudio  
But there's no remedy:  Just. 
Lord Angelo is severe.  Esc. 
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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Provost, Servant. Ser. 
he's hearing of a Cause; he will come strait, I'll tell him of you.  Pro. 
Pray you do; 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. Ang. 
Now, what's the matter Provost?  Pro. 
Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow?  Ang. 
Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again?  Pro. 
Lest I might be too rash:  
Under your good correction, I have seen  
When after execution, judgement hath  
Repent o'er his doom.  Ang. 
Go to; let that be mine,  
Do you your office, or give up your Place,  
And you shall well be spared.  Pro. 
I crave your Honour's pardon:  
What shall be done Sir, with the groaning juliet?  
she's very near her hour.  Ang. 
Dispose of her  
To some more fit place; and that with speed.  Ser. 
Here is the sister of the man condemned,  
Desires access to you.  Ang. 
Hath he a Sister?  Pro. 
I my good Lord, a very virtuous maid,  
And to be shortly of a Sisterhood,  
If not already.  Ang. 
Well: let her be admitted,  
See you the Fornicatresse be removed,  
Let her have needful, but not lavish means,  
There shall be order for't.  Enter Lucio and Isabel. Pro. 
'Saue your Honour.  Ang. 
Stay a little while: ye are welcome: what's your will?  Isab. 
I am a woeful Suitor to your Honour,  
‛ Please but your Honour hear me.  Ang. 
Well: what's your suit.  Isab. 
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.  Ang. 
Well: the matter?  Isab. 
I have a brother is condemned to die,  
I do beseech you let it be his fault,  
And not my brother.  Pro. 
Heaven give thee moving graces.  Ang. 
Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it,  
Why every fault's condemned 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:  Isab. 
Oh just, but severe Law:  
I had a brother then; heaven keep your honour.  Luc. 
Give't not over 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 tongue desire it:  
To him, I say.  Isab. 
Must he needs die?  Ang. 
Maiden, no remedy.  Isab. 
Yes: I do think that you might pardon him,  
And neither heaven, nor man grieve at the mercy.  Ang. 
I will not do't.  Isab. 
But can you if you would?  Ang. 
Look what I will not, that I cannot do.  Isab. 
But might you do't & do the world no wrong  
If so your heart were touched with that remorse,  
As mine is to him?  Ang. 
he's sentenced, 'tis too late.  Luc. 
You are too cold.  Isab. 
Too late? why no: I that do speak a word  
May call it again: well, believe this  
No ceremony that to great ones longs,  
Not the King's Crown; nor the deputed sword,  
The Marshals 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 slipped like him, but he like you  
Would not have been so stern.  Ang. 
Pray you be gone.  Isab. 
I would to heaven I had your potency,  
And you were Isabella: should it then be thus?  
No: I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,  
And what a prisoner.  Luc. 
I, touch him: there's the vain.  Ang. 
Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law,  
And you but waste your words.  Isab. 
Alas, alas:  
Why all the souls that were, were forfeit once,  
And he that might the vantage best have taken,  
Found out the remedy: how would you be,  
If he, which is the top of judgement, should  
But judge you, as you are? Oh, think on that,  
And mercy than will breathe within your lips  
Like man new made.  Ang. 
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 to morrow.  Isab. 
To morrow? oh, 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 grosse-selues? good, good my Lord, bethink you;  
Who is it that hath died for this offence?  
There's many have committed it.  Luc. 
I, well said.  Ang. 
The Law hath not been dead, though it hath slept  
Those many had not dared to do that evil  
If the first, that did th' Edict infringe  
Had answered 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 now, or by remissness, new conceived,  
And so in progress to be hatc'hd, and borne,  
Are now to have no successive degrees,  
But here they live to end.  Isab. 
Yet show some pity.  Ang. 
I show it most of all, when I show justice;  
For than I pity those I do not know,  
Which a dismissed offence, would after gall  
And do him right, that answering one foul wrong  
Life's not to act another. Be satisfied;  
Your Brother dies to morrow; be content.  Isab. 
So you must be the first that gives this sentence,  
And he, that suffers: Oh, it is excellent  
To have a Giants strength: but it is tyrannous  
To use it like a Giant.  Luc. 
That's well said.  Isab. 
Can great men thunder  
As jove himself does, jove would never 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  
Splits the un-wedgable and gnarled Oak,  
Then, the soft Mertill: But man, proud man,  
Dressed 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 makes the Angels weep: who with our spleens,  
Would all themselves laugh mortal.  Luc. 
Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent,  
he's coming: I perceiueed.  Pro. 
Pray heaven she win him.  Isab. 
We cannot weigh our brother with ourself,  
Great men may jest with Saints: 'tis wit in them,  
But in the less fowl profanation.  Luc. 
Thou'rt i' th' right (Girl) more o' that.  Isab. 
That in the captain's but a choleric word,  
Which in the Soldier is flat blasphemy.  Luc. 
Art advised o' that? more on't.  Ang. 
Why do you put these sayings upon me?  Isab. 
Because Authority, though it err like others,  
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself  
That skin's the vice o' th' 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.  Ang. 
She speaks, and 'tis such sense  
That my Sense breeds with it; far you well.  Isab. 
Gentle my Lord, turn back.  Ang. 
I will bethink me: come again to morrow.  Isa. 
Hark, how I'll bribe you: good my Lord turn back.  Ang. 
How? bribe me?  Is. 
I, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.  Luc. 
You had marred all else.  Isab. 
Not with fond Sickles of the tested-gold,  
Or Stones, whose rate are either rich, or poor  
As fancy values them: but with true prayers,  
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there  
E'er Sun rise: prayers from preserved souls,  
From fasting Maids, whose minds are dedicated  
To nothing temporal.  Ang. 
Well: come to me to morrow.  Luc. 
Go to: 'tis well; away.  Isab. 
Heaven keep your honour safe.  Ang. 
Amen.  
For I am that way going to temptation,  
Where prayers cross.  Isab. 
At what hour to morrow,  
Shall I attend your Lordship?  Ang. 
At any time 'fore-noone.  Isab. 
'Saue your Honour.  Ang. 
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  
Then woman's lightness? having waste ground enough,  
Shall we desire to raze the Sanctuary  
And pitch our evils there? oh fie, fie, fie:  
What dost thou? or what art thou Angelo?  
Dost thou desire her foully, for those things  
That make her good? oh, let her brother live:  
Thiefs 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?  
Oh 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: Ever till now  
When men were fond, I smiled, and wondered how.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Duke and Provost. Duke. 
Hail to you, Provost, so I think you are.  Pro. 
I am the Provost: what's your will, good Friar?  Duke. 
Bound by my charity, and my blessed 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.  Pro. 
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 blistered her report: She is with child,  
And he that got it, sentenced: a young man,  
More fit to do another such offence,  
Then die for this.  Duk. 
When must he dye?  Pro. 
As I do think to morrow.  
I have provided for you, stay a while  
And you shall be conducted.  Duk. 
Repent you (fair one) of the sin you carry?  jul. 
I do; and bear the shame most patiently.  Du. 
I'll teach you how you shall araign your conscience  
And try your penitence, if it be sound,  
Or hollowly put on.  jul. 
I'll gladly learn.  Duk. 
Love you the man that wronged you?  jul. 
Yes, as I love the woman that wronged him.  Duk. 
So than it seems your most offence full act  
Was mutually committed.  jul. 
Mutually.  Duk. 
Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.  jul. 
I do confess it, and repent it (Father.)  Duk. 
'Tis meet so (daughter) but lest you do repent  
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,  
Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven,  
Showing we would not spare heaven, as we love it,  
But as we stand in fear.  jul. 
I do repent me as it is an evil,  
And take the shame with joy.  Duke. 
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. jul. 
Must die tomorrow? oh injurious Love  
That respites me a life, whose very comfort  
Is still a dying horror.  Pro. 
'Tis pity of him.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Angelo. An. 
When I would pray, & think, I think, and pray  
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words,  
Whilst my Invention, hearing not my Tongue,  
Anchors on Isabella: 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 feared, and tedious: yea, my Gravity  
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,  
Can I, with boot, change for an idle plume  
Which the air beats for vain: oh place, oh 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: how now? who's there?  Enter Servant. Ser. 
One Isabella, a Sister, desires access to you,  Ang. 
Teach her the way: oh, 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 'swounds,  
Come all to help him, and so stop the air  
By which he should revive: and even so  
The general subject to a wel-wisht King  
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness  
Crowd to his presence, where their un-taught love  
Must needs appear offence: how now fair Maid.  Enter Isabel. Isab. 
I am come to know your pleasure.  An. 
That you might know it, would much better please me,  
Then to demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot live.  Isab. 
Even so: heaven keep your Honor.  Ang. 
Yet may he live a while: and it may be  
As long as you, or I: yet he must die.  Isab. 
Under your Sentence?  Ang. 
Yea.  Isab. 
When, I beseech you: that in his Reprieve  
(Longer, or shorter) he may be so fitted  
That his soul sicken not.  Ang. 
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 mettle in restrained means  
To make a false one.  Isab. 
'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.  Ang. 
Say you so: then I shall pose you quickly.  
Which had you rather, that the most just Law  
Now took your brother's life, and to redeem him  
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness  
As she that he hath stained?  Isab. 
Sir, believe this.  
I had rather give my body, than my soul.  Ang. 
I talk not of your soul: our compelled sins  
Stand more for number, then for account.  Isab. 
How say you?  Ang. 
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?  Isab. 
Please you to do't,  
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,  
It is no sin at all, but charity.  Ang. 
Pleased you to do't, at peril of your soul  
Were equal poise of sin, and charity.  Isab. 
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 Morne-praier,  
To have it added to the faults of mine,  
And nothing of your answer.  Ang. 
Nay, but hear me.  
Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,  
Or seem so crafty; and that's not good.  Isab. 
Let be ignorant, and in nothing good,  
But graciously to know I am no better.  Ang. 
Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright,  
When it doth tax itself: As these black Masques  
Proclaim an en-shield beauty ten times louder  
Than beauty could displayed: But mark me,  
To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:  
Your Brother is to dye.  Isab. 
So.  Ang. 
And his offence is so, as it appears,  
Accountant to the Law, upon that pain.  Isab. 
True.  Ang. 
Admit no other way to save his life  
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,  
But in the less of question) that you, his Sister,  
Finding yourself desired of such a person,  
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,  
Can fetch your Brother from the Manacles  
Of the all-building-Law: and that there were  
No earthly means 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?  Isab. 
As much for my poor Brother, as myself;  
That is: were I under the terms of death,  
Th' impression of keen whips, I'd wear as Rubies,  
And strip myself to death, as to a bed,  
That longing have been sick for, ere I'd yield  
My body up to shame.  Ang. 
Then must your brother die.  Isa. 
And 'twere the cheaper way:  
Better it were a brother died at once,  
Then that a sister, by redeeming him  
Should die for ever.  Ang. 
Were not you then as cruel as the Sentence,  
That you have slandered so?  Isa. 
Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon  
Are of two houses: lawful mercy,  
Is nothing kin to fowl redemption.  Ang. 
You seemed of late to make the Law a tyrant,  
And rather proved the sliding of your brother  
A merriment, than a vice.  Isa. 
Oh 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 dear love.  Ang. 
We are all frail.  Isa. 
Else let my brother die,  
If not a fedarie but only he  
Own, and succeed thy weakness.  Ang. 
Nay, women are frail too.  Isa. 
I, 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.  Ang. 
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 expressed  
By all external warrants) show it now,  
By putting on the destined Livery.  Isa. 
I have no tongue but one; gentle my Lord,  
Let me entreat you speak the former language.  Ang. 
Plainly conceive I love you.  Isa. 
My brother did love juliet,  
And you tell me that he shall die for't.  Ang 
He shall not Isabella if you give me love.  Isa. 
I know your virtue hath a licence in't,  
Which seems a little fouler than it is,  
To pluck on others.  Ang. 
Believe me on mine Honour,  
My words express my purpose.  Isa. 
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 outstretched throat I'll tell the world aloud  
What man thou art.  Ang. 
Who will believe thee Isabella?  
My unsoild name, th' austeerenesse of my life,  
My vouch against you, and my place i' th' State,  
Will so your accusation over-weigh,  
That you shall stifle in your own report,  
And smell of calumny. I have begun,  
And now I give my sensual race, the rain,  
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, oreweighs your true.  Exit Isa. 
To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,  
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths  
That bear in them, one and the selfsame tongue,  
Either of condemnation, or approof,  
Bidding the Law make curtsy to their will,  
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,  
To follow as it draws. I'll to my brother,  
Though he hath fall'n 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'd yield them up,  
Before his sister should her body stoop,  
To such abhorred pollution.  
Then Isabella 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.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. Du. 
So than you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?  Cla. 
The miserable have no other medicine  
But only hope: I have hope to live, and am prepared to die.  Duke. 
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 skyie-influences,  
That dost this habitation where thou keep'st  
Hourly afflict: Merely, thou art death's fool,  
For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun,  
And yet run'st toward him still. Thou art not noble,  
For all th' 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 provoakst, yet grossly fearest  
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself,  
For thou exists 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 forgettest. 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'st thy heavy riches but a journey,  
And death unloads thee; Friend hast thou none.  
For thine own bowels which do call thee, fire  
The mere effusion of thy proper loins  
Do curse the Gout, Sapego, and the Rheum  
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age  
But as it were an after-dinners 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 more thousand deaths; yet death we fear  
That makes these odds, all even.  Cla. 
I humbly thank you.  
To sue to live, I find I seek to die,  
And seeking death, find life: Let it come on.  Enter Isabel. Isab. 
What hoa? Peace here; Grace, and good company.  Pro. 
Who's there? Come in, the wish deserves a welcome.  Duke. 
Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.  Cla. 
Most bolie Sir; I thank you.  Isa. 
My business is a word or two with Claudio.  Pro. 
And very welcome: look Signior, here's your sister.  Duke. 
Provost, a word with you.  Pro. 
As many as you please.  Duke. 
Bring them to hear me speak, where I may be concealed.  Cla. 
Now sister, what's the comfort?  Isa. 
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 Leaguer;  
Therefore your best appointment make with speed,  
To Morrow you set on.  Clau. 
Is there no remedy?  Isa. 
None, but such remedy, as to save a head  
To cleave a heart in twain:  Clau. 
But is there any?  Isa. 
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.  Cla. 
Perpetual durance?  Isa. 
I just, perpetual durance, a restraint  
Through all the world's vastiditie you had  
To a determined scope.  Clau. 
But in what nature?  Isa. 
In such a one, as you consenting too't,  
Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,  
And leave you naked.  Clau. 
Let me know the point.  Isa. 
Oh, I do fear thee Claudio, and I quake,  
Lest thou a feavorous life shouldst entertain,  
And six or seven winters more respect  
Than a perpetual Honor. 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.  Cla. 
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.  Isa. 
There spoke 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 visagn, and deliberate word  
Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth ●new  
As Falcon doth the Fowl, is yet a devil:  
His filth within being cast, he would appear  
A pond, as deep as hell.  Cla. 
The prenzie, Angelo?  Isa. 
Oh 'tis the cunning Livery of hell,  
The damnest body to invest, and cover  
In prenzie guards; dost thou think Claudio,  
If I would yield him my virginity  
Thou mightst be freed?  Cla. 
Oh heavens, it cannot be.  Isa. 
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.  Clau. 
Thou shalt not do't.  Isa. 
O, were it but my life,  
I'd throw it down for your deliverance  
As frankly as a pin.  Clau. 
Thanks dear Isabella.  Isa. 
Be ready Claudio, for your death to morrow.  Clau. 
Yes. Has he affections in him,  
That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose,  
When he would force it? Sure it is no sin,  
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.  Isa. 
Which is the least?  Cla. 
If it were damnable, he being so wise,  
Why would he for the momentary trick  
Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabella.  Isa. 
What says my brother?  Cla. 
Death is a fearful thing.  Isa. 
And shamed life, a hateful.  Cla. 
I, 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 thicke-ribbed Ice,  
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds  
And blown with restless violence round about  
The pendant 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, perjury, and imprisonment  
Can lay on nature, is a Paradise  
To what we fear of death.  Isa. 
Alas, alas.  Cla. 
Sweet Sister, let me live.  
What sin you do, to save a brother's life,  
Nature dispenses with the deed so fare,  
That it becomes a virtue.  Isa. 
Oh you beast,  
Oh faithless Coward, oh 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 played my Father fair:  
For such a warped slip of wilderness  
Near 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.  Cla. 
Nay hear me Isabella.  Isa. 
Oh fie, fie, fie:  
Thy sin's's not accidental, but a Trade;  
Mercy to thee would prove itself a Bawd,  
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.  Cla. 
Oh hear me Isabel.  Duk. 
Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.  Isa. 
What is your Will.  Duk. 
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.  Isa. 
I have no superfluous leisure, my stay must be stolen out of other affairs: but I will attend you a while.  Duke. 
Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you & your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue, to practise his judgement 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, to morrow you must die, go to your knees, and make ready.  Cla. 
Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.  Duke. 
Hold you there: farewell: Provost, a word with you.  Pro. 
What's your will (father?)  Duk. 
That now you are come, you will be gone: leave me a while with the Maid, my mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company.  Pro. 
In good time.  Exit. Duk. 
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?  Isab. 
I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the Law, than my son should be unlawfully borne. But (oh) 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. 
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 advise, 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.  Isab. 
Let me hear you speak farther; I have spirit to do any thing that appears not fowl in the truth of my spirit.  Duke. 
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?  Isa. 
I have heard of the Lady, and good words went with her name.  Duke. 
She should this Angelo have married: was affianced to her oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wracked 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 combynate-husband, this well-seeming Angelo.  Isab. 
Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?  Duke. 
Left her in her tears, & 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.  Isab. 
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. 
It is a rapture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.  Isab. 
Show me how (good Father.)  Duk. 
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 advice this wronged maid to steed 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?  Isab. 
The image of it gives me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.  Duk. 
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 S. 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.  Isab. 
I thank you for this comfort: far you well good father.  Exit. Enter Elbow, Clown, Officers. Elb. 
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 & white bastard.  Duk. 
Oh heavens, what stuff is here.  Clow. 
'twas never merry world since of two usuries the merriest was put down, and the worse allowed by order of Law; a fured gown to keep him warm; and furred with Fox and Lambskins too, to signify, that craft being richer than Innocency, stands for the facing.  Elb. 
Come your way sir: bless you good Father friar.  Duk. 
And you good Brother Father; what offence hath this man made you, Sir?  Elb. 
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 Pick-lock, which we have sent to the Deputy.  Duke. 
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 away myself, and live:  
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,  
So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.  Clo. 
Indeed, it does stink in some sort, Sir:  
But yet Sir I would prove.  Duke. 
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  
E'er this rude beast will profit.  Elb. 
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. 
That we were all, as some would seem to be  
From our faults, as faults from seeming free.  Enter Lucio. Elb. 
His neck will come to your waist, a Cord sir.  Clo. 
I spy comfort, I cry bail: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine.  Luc. 
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 clutched? What reply? Ha'? What sayest thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drowned i' th' last rain? Ha'? What sayest thou Troth? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The trick of it?  Duke. 
Still thus, and thus: still worse?  Luc. 
How doth my dear Morsel, thy Mistress? Procures she still? Ha'?  Clo. 
Troth sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.  Luc. 
Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Ever your fresh Whore; and your powdered Bawd, an vnshuned consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison Pompey?  Clo. 
Yes faith sir.  Luc. 
Why 'tis not amiss Pompey: farewell: go say I sent thee thither: for debt Pompey? Or how?  Elb. 
For being a bawd; for being a bawd.  Luc. 
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 borne. Farewell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will turn good husband now Pompey, you will keep the house.  Clo. 
I hope Sir, your good Worship will be my bail?  Luc. 
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. 
And you.  Luc. 
Does Bridges paint still, Pompey? Ha'?  Elb. 
Come your ways sir, come.  Clo. 
You will not bail me then Sir?  Luc. 
Then Pompey, nor now: what news abroad Friar? What news?  Elb. 
Come your ways sir, come.  Luc. 
Go to kennel (Pompey) go:  
What news Friar of the Duke?  Duke. 
I know none: can you tell me of any?  Luc. 
Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia: other some, he is in Rome: but where is he think you?  Duke. 
I know not where: but wheresoever, I wish him well.  Luc. 
It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the State, and usurp the beggary he was never borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression too't.  Duke. 
He does well in't.  Luc. 
A little more lenity to Lechery would do no harm in him: Something too crabbed that way, Friar.  Duk. 
It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.  Luc. 
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. 
How should he be made then?  Luc. 
Some report, a Sea-maid spawned him. Some, that he was begot between two Stock-fish. 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. 
You are pleasant sir, and speak apace.  Luc. 
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. 
I never heard the absent Duke much detected for Women, he was not inclined that way.  Luc. 
Oh Sir, you are deceived.  Duke. 
'Tis not possible.  Luc. 
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. 
You do him wrong, surely.  Luc. 
Sir, I was an inward of his: a shy fellow was the Duke, and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing.  Duke. 
What (I prithee) might be the cause?  Luc. 
No, pardon: 'Tis a secret must be look 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. 
Wise? Why no question but he was.  Luc. 
A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow  Duke. 
Either this is 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.  Luc. 
Sir, I know him, and I love him.  Duke. 
Love talks with better knowledge, & knowledge with dear love.  Luc. 
Come Sir, I know what I know.  Duke. 
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?  Luc. 
Sir my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke.  Duke. 
He shall know you better Sir, if I may live to report you.  Luc. 
I fear you not.  Duke. 
O, you hope the Duke will return no more: or you imagine me to unhurtful an opposite: but indeed I can do you little harm: You'll forswear this again?  Luc. 
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. 
Why should he die Sir?  Luc. 
Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne-dish: I would the Duke we talk of were returned again: this vngenitured Agent will un-people the Province with Continency. Sparrows must not build in his houseeeves, because they are lecherous: The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkelie 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 now past it, yet (and I say to thee) he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelled brownebread and Garlic: say that I said so: Farewell.  Exit. Duke. 
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 Bawd. Esc. 
Go, away with her to prison.  Bawd. 
Good my Lord be good to me, your Honour is accounted a merciful man: good my Lord.  Esc. 
Double, and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear and play the Tyrant.  Pro. 
A Bawd of eleven year's continuance, may it please your Honor.  Bawd. 
My Lord, this is one Lucio's information against me, Mistress Kate Keepe-downe 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.  Esc. 
That fellow is a fellow of much Licence: Let him be called before us. Away with her to prison: Go too, no more words. 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.  Pro. 
So please you, this Friar hath been with him, and advised him for th' entertainment of death.  Esc. 
Good'euen, good Father.  Duke. 
Bliss, and goodness on you.  Esc. 
Of whence are you?  Duke. 
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 Sea,  
In special business from his Holiness.  Esc. 
What news abroad i' th' World?  Duke. 
None, but that there is so great a Favour on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it. Novelty is only in request, and as 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 accursed: 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?  Esc. 
One, that above all other strifes,  
Contended especially to know himself.  Duke. 
What pleasure was he given to?  Esc. 
Rather rejoicing to see another merry, then merrrie 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, & let me desire to know, how you find Claudio prepared? I am made to understand, that you have lent him visitation.  Duke. 
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 deceyving promises of life, which I (by my good leisure) have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die.  Esc. 
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-Iustice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him, he is indeed justice.  Duke. 
If his own life,  
Answer the straightness of his proceeding,  
It shall become him well: wherein if he chance to fail he hath sentenced himself.  Esc. 
I am going to visit the prisoner, Far you well.  Duke. 
Peace be with you.  
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,  
Then by selfe-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.  
Oh, what may Man within him hide,  
Though Angel on the outward side?  
How may likeness made in crimes,  
Making practice on the Times,  
To draw with idle Spider's 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 th' disguised  
Pay with falsehood, false exacting,  
And perform an old contracting.  Exit.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Mariana, and Boy singing. 

Song.  
Take, oh take those lips away, that so sweetly were for sworn,  
And those eyes: the break of day lights that do misled the Morn;  
But my kisses bring again, bring again,  
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.   Enter Duke. Mar. 
Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away,  
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice  
Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.  
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.  Duk. 
'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 enquired for me here to day; much upon this time have I promised here to meet.  Mar. 
You have not been enquired after: I have sat here all day.  Enter Isabella. Duk. 
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.  Mar. 
I am always bound to you.  Exit. Duk. 
Very well met, and well come:  
What is the news from this good Deputy?  Isab. 
He hath a Garden circummured with Brick,  
Whose western side is with a Vineyard backed;  
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.  Duk. 
But shall you on your knowledge find this way?  Isab. 
I have taken 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 over.  Duk. 
Are there no other tokens  
Between you agreed, concerning her observance?  Isab. 
No: none but only a repair i'th' dark,  
And that I have possessed 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.  Duk. 
'Tis well borne up.  
I have not yet made known to Mariana  Enter Mariana. 
A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth,  
I pray you be acquainted with this Maid,  
She comes to do you good.  Isab. 
I do desire the like.  Duk. 
Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?  Mar. 
Good Friar, I know you do, and have found it.  Duke. 
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.  Mar. 
Wilt please you walk aside.  Exit. Duke. 
Oh Place, and greatness: millions of false eyes  
Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report  
Run with these false, and most contrarious Quest  
Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit  
Make thee the father of their idle dream,  
And rack thee in their fancies. Welcome, how agreed?  Enter Mariana and Isabel. Isab. 
she'll take the enterprise upon her father,  
If you advice it.  Duke. 
It is not my consent,  
But my entreaty too.  Isa. 
Little have you to say  
When you depart from him, but soft and low,  
Remember now my brother.  Mar. 
Fear me not.  Duk. 
Nor gentle daughter, fear you not at all:  
He is your husband on a precontract:  
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 Corne's to reap, for yet our Tithes to sow.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Provost and Clown. Pro. 
Come hither sirrah; can you cut off a man's head?  Clo. 
If the man be a Bachelor Sir, I can:  
But is he be a married man, he's his wife's head,  
And I can never cut off a woman's head.  Pro. 
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.  Clo. 
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.  Pro. 
What hoa, Abhorson: where's Abhorson there?  Enter Abhorson. Abh. 
Do you call sir?  Pro. 
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.  Abh. 
A Bawd Sir? fie upon him, he will discredit our mystery.  Pro. 
Go too Sir, you weigh equally: a feather will turn the Scale.  Exit. Clo. 
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?  Abh. 
I Sir, a Mystery.  Clo. 
Painting Sir, I have heard say, is a Mystery; and your Whore's 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.  Abh. 
Sir, it is a Mystery.  Clo. 
Proof.  Abh. 
Every true man's apparel fits your Thief.  Clo. 
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.  Enter Provost. Pro. 
Are you agreed?  Clo. 
Sir, I will serve him: For I do find your Hangman is a more penitent Trade then your Bawd: he doth oftener ask forgiveness.  Pro. 
You sirrah, provide your block and your Axe to morrow, four a clock.  Abh. 
Come on (Bawd) I will instruct thee in my Trade: follow.  Clo. 
I do desire to learn sir: and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me ye are. For truly sir, for your kindness, I own you a good turn.  Exit Pro. 
Call hither Barnardine and Claudio:  
Th' 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?  Cla. 
As fast locked up in sleep, as guiltless labour,  
When it lies starkely in the Travellers bones,  
He will not wake.  Pro. 
Who can do good on him?  
Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise?  
Heaven give your spirits comfort: by, and by,  
I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve  
For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome Father.  Enter Duke. Duke. 
The best, and wholsomst spirits of the night,  
Inuellop you, good Provost: who called here of late?  Pro. 
None since the Curphew rung.  Duke. 
Not Isabella?  Pro. 
No.  Duke. 
They will then ere't be long.  Pro. 
What comfort is for Claudio?  Duke. 
There's some in hope.  Pro. 
It is a bitter Deputy.  Duke. 
Not so, not so: his life is paralleled  
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 mealed with that  
Which he corrects, than were he tirrannous,  
But this being so, he's just. Now are they come.  
This is a gentle Provost, seldom when  
The steeled Gaoler is the friend of men:  
How now? what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste,  
That wounds th' unsisting Postern with these strokes.  Pro. 
There he must stay until the Officer  
Arise to let him in: he is called up.  Duke. 
Have you no countermand for Claudio yet?  
But he must die to morrow?  Pro. 
None Sir, none.  Duke. 
As here the dawning Provost, as it is,  
You shall hear more ere Morning.  Pro. 
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  
Professed the contrary.  Enter a Messenger. Duke. 
This is his Lords man.  Pro. 
And here comes Claudio's pardon.  Mess. 
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.  Pro. 
I shall obey him.  Duke. 
This is his Pardon purchased by such sin,  
For which the Pardoner himself is in:  
Hence hath offence his quick celerity,  
When it is borne in high Authority.  
When Vice makes Mercy; mercy's so extended,  
That for the faults love, is th' offender friended.  
Now Sir, what news?  Pro. 
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.  Duk. 
Pray you let's hear.  The Letter. 
Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and in the afternoon Bernardine: For my better satisfaction, let me have Claudios 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. 
What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in th' afternoon?  Pro. 
A Bohemian borne: But here nursed up & bred,  
One that is a prisoner nine years old.  Duke. 
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.  Pro. 
His friends still wrought Repreeves for him: And indeed his fact till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof.  Duke. 
It is now apparent?  Pro. 
Most manifest, and not denied by himself.  Duke. 
Hath he borne himself penitently in prison?  
How seems he to be touched?  Pro. 
A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep, careless, wreakless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come: insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.  Duke. 
He wants advice.  Pro. 
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. 
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 day's respite: for the which, you are to do me both a present, and a dangerous courtesy.  Pro. 
Pray Sir, in what?  Duke. 
In the delaying death.  Pro. 
Alack, 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. 
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 borne to Angelo.  Pro. 
Angelo hath seen them both,  
And will discover the favour.  Duke. 
Oh, 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 bar'de before his death: you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thankes and good fortune, by the Saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life.  Pro. 
Pardon me, good Father, it is against my oath.  Duke. 
Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the Deputy?  Pro. 
To him, and to his Substitutes.  Duke. 
You will think you have made no offence, if the Duke avouch the justice of your dealing?  Pro. 
But what likelihood is in that?  Duke. 
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?  Pro. 
I know them both.  Duke. 
The Contents of this, is the return of the Duke; you shall anon overreade 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, th' 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 Barnardines' head: I will give him a present shrift, and advice him for a better place. Yet you are amazed, but this shall absolutely resolve you: Come away, it is almost clear dawn.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Clown. Clo. 
I am as well acquainted here, as I was in our house of profession: one would think it were Mistress Ouer-dons own house, for here be many of her old Customers. First, here's young Mr Rash, he's in for a commodity of brown paper, and old Ginger, nine score 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 Mr 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 Dizzy, and young Mr Deepe-vow, and Mr Copperspurre, and Mr Starue-Lackey the Rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heire that killed lusty Pudding, and Mr Forthlight the Tilter, and brave Mr Shootie the great Traveller, and wild Halfe-Canne that stabbed Pots, and I think forty more, all great doers in our Trade, and are now for the Lords sake.  Enter Abhorson. Abh. 
Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.  Clo. 
Mr Barnardine, you must rise and be hanged, Mr Barnardine.  Abh. 
What hoa Barnardine.  Barnardine within. Bar. 
A pox o' your throats: who makes that noise there? What are you?  Clo. 
Your friend's Sir, the Hangman:  
You must be so good Sir to rise, and be put to death.  Bar. 
Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepy.  Abh. 
Tell him he must awake,  
And that quickly too.  Clo: 
Pray Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards.  Ab. 
Go in to him, and fetch him out.  Clo. 
He is coming Sir, he is coming: I hear his Straw russle.  Enter Barnardine. Abh. 
Is the Axe upon the block, sirrah?  Clo. 
Very ready Sir.  Bar. 
How now Abhorson?  
What's the news with you?  Abh. 
Truly Sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers: for look you, the Warrants come.  Bar. 
You Rogue, I have been drinking all night,  
I am not fitted for't.  Clo. 
Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinks all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day.  Enter Duke. Abh. 
Look you Sir, here comes your ghostly Father: do we jest now think you?  Duke. 
Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are to departed, I am come to advice you, Comfort you, and pray with you.  Bar. 
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. 
Oh sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you  
Look forward on the journey you shall go.  Bar. 
I swear I will not die to day for any man's persuasion.  Duke. 
But hear you:  Bar. 
Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, come to my Ward: for thence will not I to day.  Exit Enter Provost. Duke. 
Unfit to live, or die: oh gravel heart.  
After him (Fellows) bring him to the block.  Pro. 
Now Sir, how do you find the prisoner?  Duke. 
A creature unprepared, unmeet for death,  
And to transport him in the mind he is,  
Were damnable.  Pro. 
here in the prison, Father,  
There died this morning of a cruel Favour,  
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. 
Oh, 'tis an accident that heaven provides:  
Dispatch it presently, the hour draws on  
Prefixed by Angelo: See this be done,  
And sent according to command, whiles I  
Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.  Pro. 
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. 
Let this be done,  
Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio,  
Ere twice the Sun hath made his journal greeting  
To yond generation, you shall find  
Your safety manifested.  Pro. 
I am your free dependant.  Exit. Duke. 
Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo  
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 weale-ballanced form.  
We shall proceed with Angelo.  Enter Provost. Pro. 
here is the head, I'll carry it myself.  Duke. 
Convenient is it: Make a swift return,  
For I would commune with you of such things,  
That want no ear but yours.  Pro. 
I'll make all speed.  Exit Isabella within. Isa. 
Peace hoa, be here.  Duke. 
The tongue of Isabella. She's come to know,  
If yet her brothers 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 Isabel. Isa. 
Hoa, by your leave.  Duke. 
Good morning to you, fair, and gracious daughter.  Isa. 
The better given me by so holy a man,  
Hath yet the Deputy sent my brother's pardon?  Duke. 
He hath released him, Isabella, from the world,  
His head is off, and sent to Angelo.  Isa. 
Nay, but it is not so.  Duke. 
It is no other,  
Show your wisdom daughter in your close patience.  Isa. 
Oh, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes.  Duk. 
You shall not be admitted to his sight.  Isa. 
Unhappy Claudio, wretched Isabella,  
Injurious world, most damned Angelo.  Duke. 
This nor hurts him, nor profits you a lot,  
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 Covent, 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 place 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 Honor.  Isa. 
I am directed by you.  Duk. 
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: whose here?  Enter Lucio. Luc. 
Good ' even;  
Friar, where's the Provost?  Duke. 
Not within Sir.  Luc. 
Oh pretty Isabel, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patiented; 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 too't: but they say the Duke will be here to Morrow. By my troth Isabella I loved thy brother, if the old fantastical Duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived.  Duke. 
Sir, the Duke is marvelous little beholding to your reports, but the best is, he life's not in them.  Luc. 
Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do: he's a better woodman than thou tak'st him for.  Duke. 
Well: you'll answer this one day. Far ye well.  Luc. 
Nay tarry, I'll go along with thee,  
I can tell thee pretty tales of the Duke.  Duke. 
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. 
Did you such a thing?  Luc. 
Yes marry did I; but I was fain to forswear it,  
They would else have married me to the rotten Medler.  Duke. 
Sir your company is fairer than honest, rest you well.  Lucio. 
By my troth I'll go with thee to the lanes end: if bawdy talk offend you, we'el have very little of it: nay Friar, I am a kind of Burr, I shall stick.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Angelo & Escal●. Esc. 
Every Letter he hath writ, hath disuouched other.  An. 
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 reliver our authorities there?  Esc. 
I guess not.  Ang. 
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?  Esc. 
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.  Ang. 
Well: I beseech you let it be proclaimed betimes i' th' morn, I'll call you at your house: give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him.  Esc. 
I shall sir: far you well.  Exit. Ang. 
Good night.  
This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant  
And dull to all proceed. A deflowered 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 his riotous youth with dangerous sense  
Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge  
By so receiving a dishonoured life  
With ransom of such shame: would yet he had lived.  
Alack, when once our grace we have forgot,  
Nothing goes right, we would, and we would not.  Exit.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Duke and Friar Peter. Duke. 
These Letters at fit time deliver me,  
The Provost knows our purpose and our plot,  
The matter being a foot, 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 Flavia's 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.  Peter. 
It shall be sped well.  Enter Varrius. Duke. 
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.  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Isabel and Mariana. Isa. 
To speak so in directly I am loath,  
I would say the truth; but to accuse him so  
That is your part, ye I ●m advised to do it,  
He says, to veil full purpose.  Mar. 
Be ruled by him.  Isab. 
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.  Enter Peter. Mar. 
I would Friar Peter  Isab. 
Oh peace, the Friar is come.  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.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Esculus, Lucio, Citizens at several doors. Duk. 
My very worthy Cousin, fairly met,  
Our old, and faithful friend, we are glad to see you.  Ang. Esc. 
Happy return be to your royal grace.  Duk. 
Many and hearty thank to you both:  
We have made enquiry of you, and we hear  
Such goodness of your justice, that our soul  
Cannot but yield you forth to public thankes  
Forerunning more requital.  Ang. 
You make my bonds still greater.  Duk. 
Oh your desert speaks loud, & 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 we 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.  Enter Peter and Isabel. Peter. 
Now is your time  
Speak loud, and kneel before him.  Isab. 
justice, O royal Duke, veil your regard  
Upon a wronged (I would fain have said a Maid)  
Oh 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.  Duk. 
Relate your wrongs;  
In what, by whom? be brief:  
Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice,  
Reveal yourself to him.  Isab. 
Oh 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: oh hear me, here.  Ang. 
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.  Isab. 
By course of justice.  Ang. 
And she will speak most bitterly, and strange.  Isab. 
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. 
Nay it is ten times strange?  Isa. 
It is not truer he is Angelo,  
Then this is all as true, as it is strange;  
Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth  
To th' end of reckoning.  Duke. 
Away with her: poor soul  
She speaks this, in th' infirmity of sense.  Isa. 
Oh 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 touched with madness: make not impossible  
That which but seems unlike, 'tis not impossible  
But one, the wickedest caitiff on the ground  
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute:  
As Angelo, even so may Angelo  
In all his dress, 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. 
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 ere I heard in madness.  Isab. 
Oh 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.  Duk. 
Many that are not mad  
Have sure more lack of reason:  
What would you say?  Isab. 
I am the Sister of one Claudio,  
Condemned upon the Act of Fornication  
To lose his head, condemned by Angelo,  
I, (in probation of a Sisterhood)  
Was sent to by my Brother; one Lucio  
As then the Messenger.  Luc. 
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.  Isab. 
That's he indeed.  Duk. 
You were not bid to speak.  Luc. 
No, my good Lord,  
Nor wished to hold my peace.  Duk. 
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.  Luc. 
I warrant your honour.  Duk. 
The warrant's for yourself: take heed to't.  Isab. 
This Gentleman told somewhat of my Tale.  Luc. 
Right.  Duk. 
It may be right, but you are i' the wrong  
To speak before your time: proceed,  Isab. 
I went  
To this pernicious Caitiff Deputy.  Duk. 
That's somewhat madly spoken.  Isab. 
Pardon it,  
The phrase is to the matter.  Duke. 
Mended again: the matter: proceed.  Isab. 
In brief, to set the needless process by:  
How I persuaded, how I prayed, and kneeled,  
How he refeled me, and how I replied  
(For this was of much length) the vild 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. 
This is most likely.  Isab. 
Oh that it were as like as it is true.  Duk. 
By heaven (fond wretch) thou know'st not what thou speakest,  
Or else thou art suborned against his honour  
In hateful practice: 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 weighed 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 cam'st here to complain.  Isab. 
And is this all?  
Then oh you blessed Ministers above  
Keep me in patience, and with ripened time  
Unfold the evil, which is here wrapped up  
In countenance: heaven shield your Grace from woe,  
As I thus wronged, hence unbelieved go.  Duke. 
I know you'd 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 practice;  
Who knew of your intent and coming hither?  Isa. 
One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.  Duk. 
A ghostly Father, belike:  
Who knows that Lodowicke?  Luc. 
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 spoke against your Grace  
In your retirement, I had swinged him sound.  Duke. 
Words against me? this he good Friar belike  
And to set on this wretched woman here  
Against our Substitute: Let this Friar be found.  Luc. 
But yesternight my Lord, she and that Friar  
I saw them at the prison: a saucy Friar,  
A very scurvy fellow.  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. 
We did believe no less.  
Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of?  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.  Luc. 
My Lord, most villainously, believe it.  Peter. 
Well: he in time may come to clear himself;  
But at this instant he is sick, my Lord:  
Of a strange Favour; 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  
When soever he's convented: First for this woman,  
To justify this worthy Noble man  
So vulgarly and personally accused,  
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,  
Till she herself confess it.  Duk. 
Good Friar, let's hear it:  
Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?  
Oh 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?  Enter Mariana. 
First, let her show your face, and after, speak.  Mar. 
Pardon my Lord, I will not show my face  
Until my husband bid me.  Duke. 
What, are you married?  Mar. 
No my Lord.  Duke. 
Are you a Maid?  Mar. 
No my Lord.  Duk. 
A Widow then?  Mar. 
Neither, my Lord.  Duk. 
Why you are nothing then: neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife?  Luc. 
My Lord, she may be a Punk: for many of them, are neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife.  Duk. 
Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause to prattle for himself.  Luc. 
Well my Lord.  Mar. 
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.  Luc. 
He was drunk then, my Lord, it can be no better.  Duk. 
For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so to.  Luc. 
Well, my Lord.  Duk. 
This is no witness for Lord Angelo.  Mar. 
Now I come to't, my Lord.  
She that accuses him of Fornication,  
In selfsame manner, doth accuse my husband,  
And charges him, my Lord, with such a time,  
When I'll depose I had him mine Arms  
With all th' effect of Love..  Ang. 
Charges she moe than me?  Mar. 
Not that I know.  Duk. 
No? you say your husband.  Mar. 
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 Isabella's.  Ang. 
This is a strange abuse: Let's see thy face.  Mar. 
My husband bids me, now I will unmask.  
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo  
Which once thou swor'st, was worth the looking on:  
This is the hand, which with a vowed contract  
Was fast belockt in thine: This is the body  
That took away the match from Isabella,  
And did supply thee at thy garden-house  
In her Imagined person.  Duke. 
Know you this woman?  Luc. 
Carnally she says.  Duk. 
Sirrah, no more.  Luc. 
Enoug my Lord.  Ang. 
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 disvalue  
In levity: Since which time of five years  
I never spoke with her, saw her, nor heard from her  
Upon my faith, and honour.  Mar. 
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.  Ang. 
I did but smile till now,  
Now, good my Lord, give me the scope of justice,  
My patience here is touched: 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 practice out.  Duke. 
I, with my heart,  
And punish them to your height of pleasure.  
Thou foolish Friar, and thou pernicious woman  
Compact with her that's gone: thinkest thou, thy oaths,  
Though they would swear down each particular Saint,  
Were testimonies against his worth, and credit  
That's sealed in approbation? you, Lord Escalus  
Sat 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.  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. 
Go, do it instantly:  
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.  Exit. Esc. 
My Lord, we'll do it throughly: Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?  Luc. 
Cucullus non facit Monachum, honest in nothing but in his Clothes, and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the Duke.  Esc. 
We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him: we shall find this Friar a notable fellow.  Luc. 
As any in Vienna, on my word.  Esc. 
Call that same Isabella here once again, I would speak with her: pray you, my Lord, give me leave to question, you shall see how I'll handle her.  Luc. 
Not better than he, by her own report.  Esc. 
Say you?  Luc. 
Marry sir, I think, if you handled her privately She would sooner confess, perchance publicly she'll be ashamed.  Enter Duke, Provost, Isabel. Esc. 
I will go darkly to work with her.  Luc. 
That's the way: for women are light at midnight.  Esc. 
Come on Mistress, here's a Gentlewoman,  
Denies all that you have said.  Luc. 
My Lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of,  
Here, with the Provost.  Esc. 
In very good time: speak not you to him, till we call upon you.  Luc. 
Mum.  Esc. 
Come Sir, did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did.  Duk. 
'Tis false.  Esc. 
How? Know you where you are?  Duk. 
Respect to your great place; and let the devil  
Be sometime honoured, for his burning throne.  
Where is the Duke? 'tis he should hear me speak.  Esc. 
The Duke's in us: and we will hear you speak,  
Look you speak justly.  Duk. 
Boldly, at least. But oh 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.  Luc. 
This is the rascal: this is he I spoke of.  Esc. 
Why thou unreverend, and unhallowed Friar:  
Is't not enough thou hast suborned 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 th' Duke himself, to tax him with Injustice?  
Take him hence; to th' rack with him: we'll touse you  
joint by joint, but we will know his purpose:  
What? unjust?  Duk. 
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'errun 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.  Esc. 
Slander to th' State:  
Away with him to prison.  Ang. 
What can you vouch against him Signior Lucio?  
Is this the man that you did tell us of?  Luc. 
'Tis he, my Lord: come hither goodman baldpate, do you know me?  Duk. 
I remember you Sir, by the sound of your voice,  
I met you at the Prison, in the absence of the Duke.  Luc. 
Oh, did you so? and do you remember what you said of the Duke.  Duk. 
Most notedly Sir.  Luc. 
Do you so Sir: And was the Duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be?  Duk. 
You must (Sir) change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you indeed spoke so of him, and much more, much worse.  Luc. 
Oh thou damnable fellow: did not I pluck thee by the nose, for thy speeches?  Duk. 
I protest, I love the Duke, as I love myself.  Ang. 
Hark how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses.  Esc. 
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.  Duk. 
Stay Sir, stay a while.  Ang. 
What, resists he? help him Lucio.  Luc. 
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?  Duk. 
Thou art the first knave, that ere mad'st a Duke.  
First Provost, let me bail these gentle three:  
Sneak not away Sir, for the Friar, and you,  
Must have a word anon: lay hold on him.  Luc. 
This may prove worse than hanging.  Duk. 
What you have spoke, I pardon: sit you down,  
We'll borrow place of him; 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.  Ang. 
Oh, my dread Lord,  
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,  
To think I can be undiscerneable,  
When I perceive your grace, like power divine,  
Hath looked 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.  Duk. 
Come hither Mariana,  
Say: was't thou ere contracted to this woman?  Ang. 
I was my Lord.  Duk. 
Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.  
Do you the office (Friar) which consummate,  
Return him here again: go with him Provost.  Exit. Esc. 
My Lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour,  
Then at the strangeness of it.  Duk. 
Come hither Isabella,  
Your Friar is now your Prince: As I was then  
Aduertysing, and holy to your business,  
(Not changing heart with habit) I am still,  
Atturnied at your service.  Isab. 
Oh give me pardon  
That I, your vassal, have employed, and pained  
Your unknown Sovereignty.  Duk. 
You are pardoned Isabella:  
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,  
Then let him so be lost: oh most kind Maid,  
It was the swift celerity of his death,  
Which I did think, with slower foot came on,  
That brained my purpose: but peace be with him,  
That life is better life past fearing death,  
Then that which life's to fear: make it your comfort,  
So happy is your Brother.  Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Provost. Isab. 
I do my Lord.  Duk. 
For this new-married man, approaching here,  
Whose salt imagination yet hath wronged  
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 dependant for your Brother's life,  
The very mercy of the Law cries out  
Most audible, even from his proper tongue.  
a 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 stooped to death; and with like haste.  
Away with him.  Mar. 
Oh my most gracious Lord,  
I hope you will not mock me with a husband?  Duk. 
It is your husband mocked 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 confutation they are ours;  
We do en-state, and widow you with all,  
To buy you a better husband.  Mar. 
Oh my dear Lord,  
I crave no other, nor no better man.  Duke. 
Never crave him, we are definitive.  Mar. 
Gentle my Liege.  Duke. 
You do but lose your labour.  
Away with him to death: Now Sir, to you.  Mar. 
Oh my good Lord, sweet Isabella, 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. 
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.  Mar. 
Isabella:  
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.  
Oh Isabel: will you not lend a knee?  Duke. 
He dies for Claudio's death.  Isab. 
Most bounteous Sir.  
Look if it please you, on this man condemned,  
As if my Brother lived: I partly think,  
A due sincerity governed 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 perished by the way: thoughts are no subjects  
Intents, but merely thoughts.  Mar. 
Merely my Lord.  Duk. 
Your suite's unprofitable: stand up I say:  
I have bethought me of another fault.  
Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded  
At an unusual hour?  Pro. 
It was commanded so.  Duke. 
Had you a special warrant for the deed?  Pro. 
No my good Lord: it was by private message.  Duk. 
For which I do discharge you of your office,  
Give up your keys.  Pro. 
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.  Duk. 
What's he?  Pro. 
His name is Barnardine.  Duke. 
I would thou hadst done so by Claudio:  
Go fetch him hither, let me look upon him.  Esc. 
I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise  
As you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared,  
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood  
And lack of tempered judgement afterward.  Ang. 
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.  Enter Barnardine and Provost, Claudio, julietta. Duke. 
Which is that Barnardine?  Pro. 
This my Lord.  Duke. 
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 squar'st thy life according: Thou'rt condemned,  
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all,  
And pray thee take this mercy to provide  
For better times to come: Friar advice him,  
I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that?  Pro. 
This is another prisoner that I saved,  
Who should have died when Claudio lost his head,  
As like almost to Claudio, as himself.  Duke. 
If he be like your brother, for his sake  
Is he pardoned, and for your lovely sake  
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine,  
He is my brother too: But fit 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,  
You sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a Coward,  
One all of Luxury, an ass, a mad man:  
Wherein have I so deserved of you  
That you extol me thus?  Luc. 
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 whipped.  Duke. 
Whipped first, sir, and hanged after.  
Proclaim it Provost round about the City;  
If any woman wronged 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 finished,  
Let him be whipped and hanged.  Luc. 
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. 
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.  Luc. 
Marrying a punk my Lord, is pressing to death,  
Whipping and hanging.  Duke. 
Slandering a Prince deserves it.  
She Claudio that you wronged, look you restore.  
joy to you Mariana, love her Angelo:  
I have confessed 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 shall employ thee in a worthier place.  
Forgive him Angelo, that brought you home  
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's,  
Th' offence pardons itself. Dear Isabella,  
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 meet you all should know.    

The Scene Vienna. The names of all the Actors.  

Vincentio: the Duke.  
Angelo, the Deputy.  
Escalus, an ancient Lord.  
Claudio, a young Gentleman.  
Lucio, a fantastic.  
2. Other like Gentlemen.  
Provost.  
Thomas. 2. Friars.  
Peter. 2. Friars.  
Elbow, a simple Constable.  
Froth, a foolish Gentleman.  
Clown.  
Abhorson, an Executioner.  
Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner.  
Isabel, sister to Claudio.  
Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.  
juliet, beloved of Claudio.  
Francisca, a Nun.  
Mistress Ouerdon, a Bawd.    
FINIS.   

The Comedy of Errors.  

Actus primus,  

Scena prima.  Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, jailor, and other attendants. Merchant. 
PRoceed Solinus to procure my fall,  
And by the doom of death end woes and all.  Duke. 
Merchant of Siracusa, 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 gilders to redeem their lives,  
Have sealed 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 Siracusians and ourselves,  
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:  
Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus  
Be seen at any Syracusan Marts and Fairs:  
Again, if any Syracusan borne  
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.  Mer. 
Yet this my comfort, when your words are done,  
My woes end likewise with the evening Son.  Duk. 
Well Syracusan; say in brief the cause  
Why thou departedst from thy native home?  
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.  Mer. 
A heavier task could not have been imposed,  
Then 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 sorrow gives me leave.  
In Syracuse was I borne, 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 factors death,  
And he 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 distinguished but by names.  
That very hour, and in the selfsame Inn,  
A mean 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 sailed  
Before the always winde-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 weep of my wife,  
Weeping before for what she saw must come,  
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes  
That mourned 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 borne,  
Had fastened 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 fixed,  
Fastened ourselves at either end the mast,  
And floating strait, obedient to the stream,  
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.  
At length the son gazing upon the earth,  
Dispersed those vapours that offended us,  
And by the benefit of his wished light  
The seas waxed calm, and we discovered  
Two ships from fare, making amain to us:  
Of Corinth that, of Epidarus this,  
But ere they came, oh let me say no more,  
Gather the sequel by that went before.  Duk. 
Nay forward old man, do not break off so,  
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.  Merch. 
Oh had the gods done so, I had not now  
Worthily termed them merciless to us:  
For ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,  
We were encountered by a mighty rock,  
Which being violently borne up,  
Our helpful ship was split 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 shipwrecked guests,  
And would have reft the Fishers of their prey,  
Had not their back been very slow of sail;  
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.  
Thus have you heard me severed from my bliss,  
That by misfortunes was my life prolonged,  
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.  Duke. 
And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,  
Do me the favour to dilate at full,  
What have befallen of them and they till now.  Merch. 
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 retained his name,  
Might bear him company in the quest of him:  
Whom whilst I laboured of a love to see,  
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.  
Five Summers have I spent in farthest 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,  
Can all my travels warrant me they live.  Duke. 
Hapless Aegeon whom the fates have marked  
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 should sue as advocate for thee:  
But though thou art adjudged to the death,  
And passed sentence may not be recalled  
But to our honours great disparagement:  
Yet will I favour thee in what I can;  
Therefore Merchant, I'll limit thee this day  
To seek thy help by beneficial help,  
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus,  
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,  
And live: if no, than thou art doomed to die:  
jailor, take him to thy custody.  jailor. 
I will my Lord.  Merch. 
Hopeless and helpless doth Egean wend,  
But to procrastinate his liveless end.  Exeunt. Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Merchant, and Dromio. Mer. 
Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum,  
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate:  
This very day a Syracusian Merchant  
Is apprehended for a rival 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.  Ant. 
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 travail I am stiff and weary.  
Get thee away.  Dro. 
Many a man would take you at your word,  
And go indeed, having so good a mean.  Exit Dromio. Ant. 
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?  E. Mar. 
I am invited sir to certain Merchants,  
Of whom I hope to make much benefit:  
I crave your pardon, soon at five a 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.  Ant. 
Farewell till then: I will go lose myself,  
And wander up and down to view the City.  E. Mar. 
Sir, I commend you to your own content.  Exeunt. Ant. 
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 a) lose myself.  Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
Here comes the almanac of my true date:  
What now? How chance thou art returned so soon.  E. Dro. 
Returned so soon, rather approached 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.  Ant. 
Stop in your wind sir, tell me this I pray?  
Where have you left the money that I gave you.  E. Dro. 
Oh six pence that I had a wednesday last,  
To pay the Saddler for my Mistress crupper:  
The Saddler had it Sir, I kept it not.  Ant. 
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.  E. Dro. 
I pray you jest sir 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 scour your fault upon my pate:  
methinks your maw, like mine, should be your ●ooke,  
And strike you home without a messenger.  Ant. 
Come Dromio, come, these ●ests are out of season,  
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this:  
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?  E. Dro. 
To me sir? why you gave no gold to me?  Ant. 
Come on sir knave, have done your foolishness,  
And tell me how thou ha●t disposed thy charge▪  E. Dro. 
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.  Ant. 
Now as I am a Christian answer me,  
In what safe place you have bestowed 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?  E. Dro. 
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.  Ant. 
Thy Mistress marks? what Mistress slave hast thou?  E. Dro. 
Your worship's wife, my Mistress at the Phoenix;  
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner:  
And prays that you will high you home to dinner.  Ant. 
What wilt thou flout me thus unto my face  
Being forbid? There take you that sir knave.  E. Dro. 
What mean you sir, for God sake hold your hands:  
Nay, and you will not sir, I'll take my heels.  Exeunt Dromio Ep. Ant. 
Upon my life by some devise or other,  
The villain is o'erwrought 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.   

Actus Secundus.  Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her Sister. Adr. 
Neither my husband nor the slave returned,  
That in such haste I sent to seek his Master?  
Sure Luciana it is two a clock.  Luc. 
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 patiented Sister.  Adr. 
Why should their liberty than ours be more?  Luc. 
Because their business still lies out adore.  Adr. 
Look when I serve him so, he takes it thus.  Luc. 
Oh, know he is the bridle of your will.  Adr. 
There's none but asses will be bridled so.  Luc. 
Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe:  
There's nothing situate under ●ens eye,  
But hath his bound in earth, in ●ea, in sky.  
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls  
Are their males subjects, and at ●he●r controls:  
Man more divine, the Master of all these,  
Lord of the wide world, and wild watery seas,  
Endued with intellectual sense and souls,  
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,  
Are masters to their females, and their Lords:  
Then let your will attend on their accords.  Adri. 
This servitude makes you to keep unwed.  Luci. 
Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.  Adr. 
But were you wedded, you would bear some sway  Luc. 
Ere I learned love; I'll practise to obey.  Adr. 
How if your husband start some other where?  Luc. 
Till he come home again, I would for bear.  Adr. 
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, we should ourselves complain:  
So thou that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,  
With urging helpless patience would relieve me;  
But if thou live to see like right bereft,  
This foole-beged patience in thee will be left.  Luci. 
Well, I will marry one day but to try:  
here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.  Enter Dromio Eph. Adr. 
Say, is your tardy master now at hand?  E. Dro. 
Nay, he's at too hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.  Adr. 
Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?  E. Dro. 
I, I, he told his mind upon mine ear,  
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.  Luc. 
Spoke he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning.  E. Dro. 
Nay, he strooke so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand them.  Adri. 
But say, I prithee, is he coming home?  
It seems he hath great care to please his wife.  E. Dro. 
Why Mistress, sure my Master is horn mad.  Adri. 
Horn mad, thou villain?  E. Dro. 
I mean not Cuckold mad,  
But sure he is stark mad:  
When I desired him to come home to dinner,  
He asked me for a hundred 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, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;  
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee villain?  
The Pig quoth I, is burned: my gold, quoth he:  
My mistress, sir, quoth I: hang up thy Mistress:  
I know not thy mistress, out on thy mistress.  Luci. 
Quoth who?  E. Dr. 
Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress: so that my arrant due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bore home upon my shoulders: for in conclusion, he did beat me there.  Adri. 
Go back again, thou slave, & fetch him home.  Dro. 
Go back again, and be new beaten home▪  
For Gods sake send some other messenger.  Adri. 
Back slave, or I will break thy pate across.  Dro. 
And he will bless that cross with other beating▪  
Between you, I shall have a holy head.  Adri. 
Hence prating peasant, fetch thy Master home.  Dro. 
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.  Luci. 
Fie how impatience lowreth in your face.  Adri. 
His company must do his minion's grace,  
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look:  
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took  
From my poor check? then he hath wasted it.  
Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit,  
If voluble and sharp discourse be marred,  
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 ruined? 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.  Luci. 
Selfe-harming jealousy; fie beat it hence.  Ad. 
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, a love he would detain,  
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed:  
I see the jewel best enamaled  
Will lose his beauty: yet the gold bides still  
That others touch, and often touching will,  
Where 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.  Luci. 
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy?  Exit. Enter Antipholis Errotis. Ant. 
The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up  
Safe at the Centaur, and the heedful slave  
Is wandered 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 Siracusia. 
How now sir, is your merry humour altered?  
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 did didst answer me?  S. Dro. 
What answer sir? when spoke I such a word?  E. Ant. 
Even now, even here, not half an hour since.  S. Dro. 
I did not see you since you sent me hence  
Home to the Centaur with the gold you gave me.  Ant. 
Villain, thou didst deny the golds receipt,  
And toldst me of a Mistress, and a dinner,  
For which I hope thou feltst I was displeased.  S. Dro. 
I am glad to see you in this merry vain,  
What means this jest, I pray you Master tell me?  Ant. 
Yea, dost thou jeer & flout me in the teeth?  
Thinkest thou I jest? hold, take thou that, & that. Beats Dro.  S. Dr. 
Hold sir, for God's sake, now your jest is earnest,  
Upon what bargain do you give it me?  Antiph. 
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 demeanour to my looks,  
Or I will beat this method in your sconce.  S. Dro. 
Sconce call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head, and you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and Ensconce it to, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray sir, why am I beaten?  Ant. 
Dost thou not know?  S. Dro, 
Nothing sir, but that I am beaten.  Ant. 
Shall I tell you why?  S. Dro. 
I sir, and wherefore; for they say, every why hath a wherefore.  Ant. 
Why first for flouting me, and then wherefore, for urging it the second time to me.  S. Dro. 
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.  Ant. 
Thank me sir, for what?  S. Dro. 
Marry sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing.  Ant. 
I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say sir, is it dinner time?  S. Dro. 
No sir, I think the meat wants that I have.  Ant. 
In good time sir: what's that?  S. Dro. 
Basting.  Ant. 
Well sir, than 'twill be dry.  S. Dro. 
If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it.  Ant. 
Your reason?  S. Dro. 
Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.  Ant. 
Well sir, learn to jest in good time, there's a time for all things.  S. Dro. 
I durst have denied that before you were so choleric.  Anti. 
By what rule sir?  S. Dro. 
Marry sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of Father time himself.  Ant. 
Let's hear it.  S. Dro. 
There's no time for a man to recover his hair that grows bald by nature.  Ant. 
May he not do it by fine and recovery?  S. Dro. 
Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man.  Ant. 
Why, is Time such a niggard of hair, being (as it is) so plentiful an excrement?  S. Dro. 
Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted them in hair, he hath given them in wit.  Ant. 
Why, but there's many a man hath more hair then wit.  S. Dro. 
Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair.  Ant. 
Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit.  S. Dro. 
The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth it in a kind of jollity.  An. 
For what reason.  S. Dro. 
For two, and sound ones to.  An. 
Nay not sound I pray you.  S. Dro. 
Sure ones then.  An. 
Nay, not sure in a thing falsing.  S. Dro. 
Certain ones then.  An. 
Name them.  S. Dro. 
The one to save the money that he spends in trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge.  An. 
You would all this time have proved, here is no time for all things.  S. Dro. 
Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recover hair lost by Nature.  An. 
But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover.  S. Dro. 
Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, and therefore to the world's end, will have bald followers.  An. 
I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft, who wafts us yonder.  Enter Adriana and Luciana. Adri. 
I, I. 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 vn-vrged 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-fauoured in thy taste,  
Unless I spoke, or looked, or touched, or carved to thee.  
How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,  
That thou art then 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 mayst thou fall  
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,  
And take unmingled thence that drop again  
Without addition or diminishing,  
As take from me thyself, and not me too.  
How dearly would it touch thee 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 stained skin of my Harlot brow,  
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,  
And break it with a deepe-divorcing vow?  
I know thou canst, and therefore see thou do it.  
I am possessed with an adulterate blot,  
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:  
For if we two be one, and thou play false,  
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,  
Being strumpeted by thy contagion▪  
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed,  
I live distained, thou undishonoured.  Antip. 
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 scanned,  
Wants wit in all, one word to understand.  Luci. 
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.  Ant. 
By Dromio?  Drom. 
By me.  Adr. 
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.  Ant. 
Did you converse sir with this gentlewoman:  
What is the course and drift of your compact?  S. Dro. 
I sir? I never saw her till this time.  Ant. 
Villain thou liest, for even her very words,  
Didst thou deliver to me on the Mart.  S. Dro. 
I never spoke with her in all my life.  Ant. 
How can she thus then call us by our names?  
Unless it be by inspiration.  Adri. 
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 stranger state,  
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:  
If ought 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.  Ant. 
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 freed fallacy.  Luc. 
Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.  S. Dro. 
Oh for my beads, I cross me for a sinner.  
This is the Fairy land, oh spite of spites,  
We talk with Goblins, Owls and Sprights;  
If we obey them not, this will ensue:  
They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.  Luc. 
Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answerest not?  
Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot.  S. Dro. 
I am transformed Master, am I not?  Ant. 
I think thou art in mind, and so am I  S. Dro. 
Nay Master, both in mind, and in my shape.  Ant. 
Thou hast thine own form.  S. Dro. 
No, I am an Ape.  Luc. 
If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an Ass.  S. Dro. 
'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.  Adr. 
Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,  
To put the finger in the eye and weep;  
Whilst man and Master laughs 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.  Ant. 
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.  S. Dro. 
Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?  Adr. 
I, and let none enter, lest I break your pate.  Luc. 
Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the Goldsmith, and Balthaser the Merchant. E. Anti. 
Good signior Angelo you must excuse us all,  
My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours;  
Say that I lingered 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?  E. Dro. 
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, & the blows you gave were ink,  
Your own hand-writing would tell you what I think.  E. Ant. 
I think thou art an ass.  E. Dro. 
Marry so it doth appear  
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear,  
I should kick being kicked, and being at that pass,  
You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.  E. An. 
YE are sad signior Balthasar, pray God our cheer  
May answer my good will, and your good welcome here.  Bal. 
I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcome deer.  E. An. 
Oh signior Balthasar, either at flesh or fish,  
A table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish.  Bal. 
Good meat sir is common that every churl affords.  Anti. 
And welcome more common, for that's nothing but words.  Bal. 
Small cheer and great welcome, makes a merry feast.  Anti. 
I, 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 hart.  
But soft, my door is locked; go bid them let us in.  E. Dro. 
Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn.  S. Dro. 
Mome, Malthorse, 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.  E. Dro. 
What patch is made our Porter? my Master stays in the street.  S. Dro. 
Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on's feet.  E. Ant. 
Who talks within there? hoa, open the door.  S. Dro. 
Right sir, I'll tell you when, and you'll tell me wherefore.  Ant. 
Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not dined to day.  S. Dro. 
Nor to day here you must not come again when you may.  Anti. 
What art thou that keep'st me out from the house I own?  S. Dro. 
The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is Dromio.  E. Dro. 
O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name,  
The one ne'er got me credit, the other much 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.  Enter Luce. Luce. 
What a coil is there Dromio? who are those at the gate?  E. Dro. 
Let my Master in Luce.  Luce. 
Faith no, he comes too late, and so tell your Master.  E. Dro. 
O Lord I must laugh, have at you with a Proverb,  
Shall I set in my staff.  Luce. 
Have at you with another, that's when? can you tell?  S. Dro. 
If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answered him well.  Anti. 
Do you hear you minion, you'll let us in I hope?  Luce. 
I thought to have asked you.  S. Dro. 
And you said no.  E. Dro. 
So come help, well strooke, there was blow for blow.  Anti. 
Thou baggage let me in.  Luce. 
Can you tell for whose sake?  E. Drom. 
Master, knock the door hard.  Luce. 
Let him knock till it ache.  Ant. 
You'll cry for this minion, if I beat the door down.  Luce. 
What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town?  Enter Adriana. Adr. 
Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise?  S. Dro. 
By my troth your town is troubled with unruly boys.  Anti. 
Are you there Wife? you might have come before.  Adri. 
Your wife sir knave? go get you from the door.  E. Dro. 
If you went in pain Master, this knave would go sore.  Angelo. 
here is neither cheer sir, nor welcome, we would fain have either.  Baliz. 
In debating which was best, we shall part with neither.  E. Dro. 
They stand at the door, Master, bid them welcome hither.  Anti. 
There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.  E. Dro. 
You would say so Master, if your garments were thin.  
Your cake here is warm within: you stand here in the cold.  
It would make a man mad as a Buck to be so bought and sold.  Ant. 
Go fetch me something, I'll break open the gate.  S. Dro. 
Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate.  E. Dro. 
A man may break a word with your sir, and words are but wind;  
I and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.  S. Dro. 
It seems thou want'st breaking, out upon thee hind.  E. Dro. 
Here's too much out upon thee, I pray thee let me in.  S. Dro. 
I, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no sin.  Ant. 
Well, I'll break in: go borrow me a crow.  E. Dro. 
A crow without feather, Master mean you so;  
For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without afether,  
If a crow help us in sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together.  Ant. 
Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron Crow.  Balth. 
Have patience sir, oh let it not be so,  
Herein you war against your reputation,  
And draw within the compass of suspect  
Th' unviolated honour of your wife.  
Once this your long experience of your wisdom,  
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,  
Plead on your 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 life's upon succession;  
For ever housed, where it gets possession.  Anti. 
You have prevailed, I will departed 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, 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 haft▪  
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,  
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.  Ang. 
I'll meet you at that place some hour hence.  Anti. 
Do so, this jest shall cost me some expense.  Exeunt. Enter juliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia. julia. 
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 buildings grow so ruinated?  
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,  
Then for her wealths-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 shames Orator:  
Look sweet, speak 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 attain?  
'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 is doubled with an evil word:  
Alas poor women, make us not 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 wise;  
'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,  
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.  S. Anti. 
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,  
Then our earth's wonder, more than earth divine.  
Teach me dear creature how to think and speak:  
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit:  
Smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,  
The folded meaning of your words deceit:  
Against my souls 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:  
Fare more, fare more, to you do I decline:  
Oh train me not sweet Mermaid with thy note,  
To drown me in thy sister flood of tears:  
Sing Siren for thyself, and I will dote:  
Spread over the silver waves thy golden hairs;  
And as a bud I'll take thee, 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.  Luc. 
What are you mad, that you do reason so?  Ant. 
Not mad, but mated, how I do not know.  Luc. 
It is a fault that springeth from your eye.  Ant. 
For gazing on your beams fair sun being by.  Luc. 
Gaze when you should, and that will clear your sight.  Ant. 
As good to wink sweet love, as look on night.  Luc. 
Why call you me love? Call my sister so.  Ant. 
Thy sister's sister.  Luc. 
That's my sister.  Ant. 
No: it is thyself, mine own selves better part:  
Mine eyes clear eye, my dear hearts dearer heart;  
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aim;  
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.  Luc. 
All this my sister is, or else should be.  Ant. 
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.  Luc. 
Oh soft sir, hold you still:  
I'll fetch my sister to get her good will.  Exit. Enter Dromio, Siracusia. Ant. 
Why how now Dromio, where runnest thou so fast?  S. Dro. 
Do you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself?  Ant. 
Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.  Dro. 
I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself.  Ant. 
What woman's man? and how besides thyself?  Dro. 
Marry sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman:  
One that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.  Anti. 
What claim lays she to thee?  Dro. 
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.  Anti. 
What is she?  Dro. 
A very reverend body: I 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.  Anti. 
How dost thou mean a fat marriage?  Dro. 
Marry sir, she's the Kitchen wench, & all grease, and I know not what use to put her too, 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 life's till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole World.  Anti. 
What complexion is she of?  Dro. 
Swart like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept: for why? she sweats a man may go overshooes in the grime of it.  Anti. 
That's a fault that water will mend.  Dro. 
No sir, 'tis in grain, Noah's stood could not do it.  Anti. 
What's her name?  Dro. 
Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.  Anti. 
Then she bears some breadth?  Dro. 
No longer from head to foot, then from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe: I could find out Countries in her.  Anti. 
In what part of her body stands Ireland?  Dro. 
Marry sir in her buttocks, I found it out by the bogs.  Ant. 
Where Scotland?  Dro. 
I found it by the barrenness, hard in the palm of the hand.  Ant. 
Where France?  Dro. 
In her forehead, armed and reverted, making war against her heir.  Ant. 
Where England?  Dro. 
I looked for the chalkle Cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them. But I guess, it stood in her chin by the salt theume that ran between France, and it.  Ant. 
Where Spain?  Dro. 
Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breath.  Ant. 
Where America, the Indies?  Dro. 
Oh sir, upon her nose, all ore embellished with Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who sent whole Armadas of Carrects to be ballast at her nose.  Anti. 
Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?  Dro. 
Oh sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge or Diviner laid claim to me, called 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 transformed me to a Curtull dog, & made me turn i' th' wheel.  Anti. 
Go hie thee presently post to the road,  
And 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.  Dro. 
As from a Bear a man would run for life,  
So fly I from her that would be my wife.  Exit Anti. 
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  
Possessed with such a gentle sovereign grace,  
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,  
Hath almost made me Traitor to myself:  
But least myself be guilty to self wrong,  
I'll stop mine ears against the Mermaids song.  Enter Angelo with the Chaime. Ang. 
Mr Antipholus.  Anti. 
I that's my name.  Ang. 
I know it well sir, lo here's the chain,  
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine,  
The chain unfinished made me stay thus long.  Anti. 
What is your will that I shall do with this?  Ang. 
What please yourself sir: I have made it for you.  Anti. 
Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not.  Ang. 
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.  Anti. 
I pray you sir receive the money now,  
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money more.  Ang. 
You are a merry man sir, far you well.  Exit. Ant. 
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 offered 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 strait away.  Exit.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer. Mar. 
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 Gilders for my voyage:  
Therefore make present satisfaction,  
Or I'll attach you by this Officer.  Gold. 
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 a 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 Ephes. Dromio from the Courtesans. Offi. 
That labour may you save: See where he comes.  Ant. 
While I go to the Goldsmith's house, go thou  
And buy a rope's end, that will I bestow  
Among my wife, and their 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.  Dro. 
I buy a thousand pound a year, I buy a rope.  Exit Dromio Eph. Am. 
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 chained together: and therefore came not.  Gold. 
Saving your merry humour: here's the note  
How much your Chain weighs to the utmost charect,  
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.  Anti. 
I am not furnished 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.  Gold. 
Then you will bring the Chain to her yourself.  Anti. 
No bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.  Gold. 
Well sir, I will? Have you the Chain about you?  Ant. 
And if I have not sir, I hope you have:  
Or else you may return without your money.  Gold. 
Nay come I pray you sir, give me the Chain:  
Both wind and tide stays for this Gentleman,  
And I too blame have held him here too long.  Anti. 
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.  Mar. 
The hour steals on, I pray you sir dispatch.  Gold. 
You hear how he importunes me, the Chain.  Ant. 
Why give it to my wife, and fetch your money.  Gold. 
Come, come, you know I gave it you even now.  
Either send the Chain, or send me by some token.  Ant. 
Fie, now you run this humour out of breath,  
Come where's the Chain, I pray you let me see it.  Mar. 
My business cannot brook this dalliance,  
Good sir say, whenever you'll answer me, or no:  
If not, I'll leave him to the Officer.  Ant. 
I answer you? What should I answer you.  Gold. 
The money that you own me for the Chain.  Ant. 
I own you none, till I receive the Chain.  Gold. 
You know I gave it you half an hour since.  Ant. 
You gave me none, you wrong me much to say so.  Gold. 
You wrong me more sir in denying it.  
Consider how it stands upon my credit.  Mar. 
Well Officer, arrest him army suit.  Offi. 
I do, and charge you in the Duke's name to obey me.  Gold. 
This touches me in reputation.  
Either consent to pay this sum for me,  
Or I attach you by this Officer.  Ant. 
Consent to pay thee that I never had:  
Arrest me foolish fellow if thou darest.  Gold. 
here is thy fee, arrest him Officer.  
I would not spare my brother in this case,  
If he should scorn me so apparently.  Off●i●. 
I do arrest you sir, you hear the suit.  Ant. 
I do obey thee, till I give thee bail.  
But sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear,  
As all the mettle in your shop will answer.  Gold. 
Sir, sir, I shall have Law in Ephesus,  
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.  Enter Dromio Sirrah. from the Bay. Dro. 
Master, there's a Bark of Epidamnum,  
That stays but till her Owner comes aboard,  
And then sir she bears away. Our fraughtage sir,  
I have conveyed aboard, and I have bought  
The Oil, the Balsamum, and Aquavitae.  
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.  An. 
How now? a Madman? Why thou peevish sheep  
What ship of Epidamnum stays for me.  S. Dro. 
A ship you sent me too, to higher waftage.  Ant. 
Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope,  
And told thee to what purpose, and what end.  S. Dro. 
You sent me for a ropes end as soon,  
You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Bark.  Ant. 
I will debate this matter at more leisure  
And teach your ears to list me with more heed:  
To Adriana Villain hie thee strait:  
Give her this key, and tell her in the Desk  
That's covered 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 S. Dromio. 
To Adriana, that is where we dined,  
Where Dowsabell 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 Master's minds fulfil.  Exit Enter Adriana and Luciana. Adr. 
Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?  
Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye,  
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no:  
Looked he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?  
What observation mad'st thou in this case?  
Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face.  Luc. 
First he denied you had in him no right.  Adr. 
He meant he did me none: the more my spite  Luc. 
Then swore he that he was a stranger here.  Adr. 
And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were.  Luc. 
Then pleaded I for you.  Adr. 
And what said he?  Luc. 
That love I begged for you, he begged of me.  Adr. 
With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?  Luc. 
With words, that in an honest suit might move.  
First, he did praise my beauty, than my speech.  Adr. 
Didst speak him fair?  Luc. 
Have patience I beseech.  Adr. 
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 sear,  
Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless every where:  
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind,  
Stigmatical in making worse in mind.  Luc. 
Who would be jealous then of such a one?  
No evil lost is wailed, when it is gone.  Adr. 
Ah but I think him better than I say:  
And yet would herein others eyes were worse:  
Fare from her nest the Lapwing cries away:  
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.  Enter S. Dromio. Dro. 
Here go: the desk, the purse, sweet now make haste.  Luc. 
How hast thou lost thy breath?  S. Dro. 
By running fast.  Adr. 
Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?  S. Dro. 
No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell:  
A devil in an everlasting garment hath him;  
On whose hard heart is buttoned up with steel:  
A Fiend, a Fairy, pitiless and ruff:  
A Wolf, nay worse, a fellow all in buff▪  
A back friend, a shoulderclapper, one that countermands  
The passages of allies, creeks, and narrow lands:  
A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,  
One that before the judgement carries poor souls to hell.  Adr. 
Why man, what is the matter?  S. Dro. 
I do not know the matter, he is rested on the case.  Adr. 
What is he arrested? tell me at whose suit?  S. Dro. 
I know not at whose suit he is arrested well; but is in a suit of buff which rested him, that can I tell, will you send him Mistress redemption, the money in his desk.  Adr. 
Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.  Exit Luciana. 
Thus he unknown to me should be in debt:  
Tell me, was he arrested on a band?  S. Dro. 
Not on a band, but on a stronger thing:  
A chain, a chain, do you not here it ring.  Adria. 
What, the chain?  S. Dro. 
No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:  
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.  Adr. 
The hours come back, that did I never here.  S. Dro. 
Oh yes, if any hour meet a Sergeant, a turns back for very fear.  Adri. 
As if time were in debt: how fond dost thou reason?  S. Dro. 
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 I be in debt and theft, and a Sergeant in the way,  
Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?  Enter Luciana. Adr. 
Go Dromio, there's the money, bear it strait,  
And bring thy Master home immediately.  
Come sister, I am pressed down with conceit:  
Conceit, my comfort and my injury.  Exit. Enter Antipholus Siracusia. 
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 thankes for kindnesses;  
Some offer me Commodities to buy.  
Even now o' tailor called me in his shop,  
And showed 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 Sir. S. Dro. 
Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled?  Ant. 
What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean?  S. Dro. 
Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calves-skin, that was killed for the Prodigal: he that came behind you sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.  Ant. 
I understand thee not.  S. Dro. 
No? why 'tis a plain case: he that went like a Base-Viole 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 Moris' Pike.  Ant. 
What thou meanest an officer?  S. Dro. 
I 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.  Ant. 
Well sir, there rest in your foolery:  
Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone?  S. Dro. 
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.  Ant. 
The fellow is distract, and so am I,  
And here we wander in illusions:  
Some blessed power deliver us from hence.  Enter a Courtesan. Cur. 
Well met, well met, Master Antipholous:  
I see sir you have found the Goldsmith now:  
Is that the chain you promised me to day.  Ant. 
Satan avoid, I charge thee tempt me not.  S. Dro. 
Master, is this Mistress Satan?  Ant. 
It is the devil.  S. Dro. 
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.  Cur. 
Your man and you are marvellous merry sir.  
Will you go with me, we'll mend our dinner here?  S. Dro. 
Master, if do expect spoonmeate, or bespeak a long spoon.  Ant. 
Why Dromio?  S. Dro. 
Marry he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.  Ant. 
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.  Cur. 
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.  S. Dro. 
Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, a rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherrie-stone: but she more covetous, would have a chain: Master be wise, and if you give it her, the devil will shake her Chain, and fright us with it.  Cur. 
I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chain,  
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so?  Ant. 
Avaunt thou witch: Come Dromio let us go.  S. Dro. 
Fly pride says the Peacock, Mistress that you know.  Exit. Cur. 
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 high home to his house,  
And tell his wife, that being Lunatic,  
He rushed into my house, and took perforce  
My Ring away. This course I fittest choose,  
For forty Ducats is too much to lose.  Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a jailer. An. 
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 attached in Ephesus,  
I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her ears.  Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end. 
here comes my Man, I think he brings the money.  
How now sir? Have you that I sent you for?  E. Dro. 
Here's that I warrant you will pay them all.  Anti. 
But where's the Money?  E. Dro. 
Why sir, I gave the Money for the Rope.  Ant. 
Five hundred Ducats villain for a rope?  E. Dro. 
I'll serve you sir five hundred at the rate.  Ant. 
To what end did I bid thee high thee home?  S. Dro. 
To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I returned.  Ant. 
And to that end sir, I will welcome you.  Offi. 
Good sir be patiented.  E. Dro. 
Nay 'tis for me to be patiented, I am in adversity.  Offi. 
Good now hold thy tongue.  E. Dro. 
Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands.  Anti. 
Thou whoreson senseless Villain.  E. Dro. 
I would I were senseless sir, that I might not feel your blows.  Anti. 
Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an Ass.  E. Dro. 
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.  Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, and a Schoolmaster, called Pinch. Ant. 
Come go along, my wife is coming yonder.  E. Dro. 
Mistress respice finem, respect your end, or rather the prophecy like the Parrot, beware the rope's end.  Anti. 
Wilt thou still talk?  Beats Dro. Curt. 
How say you now? Is not your husband mad?  Adri. 
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.  Luc. 
Alas how fiery, and how sharp he looks.  Cur. 
Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy.  Pinch. 
Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse.  Ant. 
There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.  Pinch. 
I charge thee Satan, housed within this man,  
To yield possession to my holy prayers,  
And to thy state of darkness hie thee strait,  
I conjure thee by all the Saints in heaven.  Anti. 
Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad.  Adr. 
Oh that thou were't not, poor distressed soul.  Anti. 
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.  Adr. 
O husband, God doth know you dined at home  
Where would you had remained until this time,  
Free from these slanders, and this open shame.  Anti. 
Dined at home? Thou Villain, what sayest thou?  Dro. 
Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home.  Anti. 
Were not my doors locked up, and I shut out?  Dro. 
Perdie, your doors were locked, and you shut out.  Anti. 
And did not she herself revile me there?  Dro. 
Sans Fable, she herself reviled you there.  Anti. 
Did not her Kitchen maid rail, taunt, and scorn me?  Dro. 
Certis she did, the kitchen vestal scorned you.  Ant. 
And did not I in rage departed from thence?  Dro. 
In verity you did, my bones bears witness,  
That since have felt the vigour of his rage.  Adr. 
Is't good to soothe him in these crontraries?  Pinch. 
It is no shame, the fellow finds his vain,  
And yielding to him, humours well his frenzy.  Ant. 
Thou hast suborned the Goldsmith to arrest me.  Adr. 
Alas, I sent you Money to redeem you,  
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.  Dro. 
Money by me? Heart and good will you might,  
But surely Master not a rag of Money.  Ant. 
Went'st not thou to her for a purse of Ducats.  Adri. 
He came to me, and I delivered it.  Luci. 
And I am witness with her that she did:  Dro. 
God and the Rope-maker bear me witness,  
That I was sent for nothing but a rope.  Pinch. 
Mistress, both Man and Master is possessed,  
I know it by their pale and deadly looks,  
They must be bound and laid in some dark room.  Ant. 
Say wherefore didst thou lock me forth to day,  
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?  Adr. 
I did not gentle husband lock thee forth.  Dro. 
And gentle Mr I received no gold:  
But I confess sir, that we were locked out.  Adr. 
Dissembling Villain, thou speakest false in both  Ant. 
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. Adr. 
Oh bind him, bind him, let him not come near me.  Pinch. 
More company, the fiend is strong within him  Luc. 
Ay me poor man, how pale and wan he looks.  Ant. 
What will you murder me, thou jailer thou?  
I am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue?  Offi. 
Master's let him go: he is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.  Pinch. 
Go bind this man, for he is frantic too.  Adr. 
What wilt thou do, thou peevish Officer?  
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man  
Do outrage and displeasure to himself?  Offi. 
He is my prisoner, if I let him go,  
The debt he owes will be required of me.  Adr. 
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 conveyed  
Home to my house, oh most unhappy day.  Ant. 
Oh most unhappy strumpet.  Dro. 
Master, I am here entered in bond for you.  Ant. 
Out on thee Villain, wherefore dost thou mad me?  Dro. 
Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good Master, cry the devil.  Luc. 
God help poor souls, how idly do they talk.  Adr. 
Go bear him hence, sister go you with me:  
Say now, whose suit is he arrested at?  Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtesan Off. 
One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him?  Adr. 
I know the man: what is the sum he owes?  Off. 
Two hundred Ducats.  Adr. 
Say, how grows it due.  Off. 
Due for a Chain your husband had of him.  Adr. 
He did bespeak a Chain for me, but had it not.  Cur. 
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,  
Strait after did I meet him with a Chain.  Adr. 
It may be so, but I did never see it.  
Come jailer, bring me where the Goldsmith is,  
I long to know the truth hereof at large.  Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawn, and Dromio Sirac. Luc. 
God for thy mercy, they are lose again.  Adr. 
And come with naked swords,  
Let's call more help to have them bound again.  Run all out. Off. 
Away, they'll kill us.  Exeunt omnes, as fast as may be, frighted. S. Ant. 
I see these Witches are afraid of swords.  S. Dro. 
She that would be your wife, now ran from you.  Ant. 
Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuff from thence:  
I long that we were safe and sound aboard.  Dro. 
Faith stay here this night, they will surely do us no harm: you saw they speak us fair, give us gold: me thinks 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.  Ant. 
I will not stay to night for all the Town,  
Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard.  Exeunt   

Actus Quintus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith. Gold. 
I am sorry Sir that I have hindered you,  
But I protest he had the Chain of me,  
Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.  Mar. 
How is the man esteemed here in the City?  Gold. 
Of very reverend reputation sir,  
Of credit infinite, highly beloved,  
Second to none that life's here in the City:  
His word might bear my wealth at any time.  Mar. 
Speak softly, yonder as I think he walks.  Enter Antipholus and Dromio again. Gold. 
'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 hoist sail, and put to sea to day:  
This Chain you had of me, can you deny it?  Ant. 
I think I had, I never did deny it.  Mar. 
Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too.  Ant. 
Who heard me to deny it or forswear it?  Mar. 
These ears of mine thou know'st did hear thee:  
Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pity that thou livest  
To walk where any honest men resort.  Ant. 
Thou art a Villain to impeach me thus,  
I'll prove mine honour, and mine honesty  
Against thee presently, if thou darest stand:  Mar. 
I dare and do defy thee for a villain.  They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, & others. Adr. 
Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad,  
Some get within him, take his sword away:  
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.  S. Dro. 
Run master run, for God's sake take a house,  
This is some Priory, in, or we are spoiled.  Exeunt to the Priory. Enter Lady Abbess. Ab. 
Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?  Adr. 
To fetch my poor distracted husband hence,  
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast,  
And bear him home for his recovery.  Gold. 
I knew he was not in his perfect wits.  Mar. 
I am sorry now that I did draw on him.  Ab. 
How long hath this possession held the man.  Adr. 
This week he hath been heavy, sour sad,  
And much different from the man he was:  
But till this afternoon his passion  
ne'er broke into extremity of rage.  Ab. 
Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea,  
Buried some dear friend, hath not else his eye  
Strayed 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 too?  Adr. 
To none of these, except it be the last,  
Namely, some love that drew him oft from home.  Ab. 
You should for that have reprehended him.  Adr. 
Why so I did.  Ab. 
I but not rough enough.  Adr. 
As roughly as my modesty would let me.  Ab. 
Haply in private.  Adr. 
And in assemblies too.  Ab. 
I, but not enough.  Adr. 
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 vild and bad.  Ab. 
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 hindered by thy railing,  
And thereof comes it that his head is light.  
Thou sayest his meat was sauced with thy upbraid,  
Unquiet meals make ill digestions,  
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred,  
And what's a Fever, but a fit of madness?  
Thou sayest his sports were hindered by thy bralles.  
Sweet recreation barred, 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-preseruing rest  
To be disturbed, would mad or man, or beast:  
The consequence is then, thy jealous fits  
Hath scared thy husband from the use of wits.  Luc. 
She never reprehended him but mildly,  
When he demeaned himself, rough, rude, and wildly,  
Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not?  Adri. 
She did betray me to my own reproof,  
Good people enter, and lay hold on him.  Ab. 
No, not a creature enters in my house.  Ad. 
Then let your servants bring my husband forth  Ab. 
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.  Adr. 
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.  Ab. 
Be patiented, 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.  Adr. 
I will not hence, and leave my husband here:  
And ill it doth beseem your holiness  
To separate the husband and the wife.  Ab. 
Be quiet and departed, thou shalt not have him.  Luc. 
Complain unto the Duke of this indignity.  Adr. 
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.  Mar. 
By this I think the Dial points at five:  
Anon I' me sure the Duke himself in person  
Comes this way to the melancholy vale;  
The place of depth, and sorry execution,  
Behind the ditches of the Abbey here.  Gold. 
Upon what cause?  Mar. 
To see a reverend Syracusan Merchant,  
Who put unluckily into this Bay  
Against the Laws and Statutes of this Town,  
Beheaded publicly for his offence.  Gold. 
See where they come, we will behold his death.  Luc. 
Kneel to the Duke before he pass the Abbey.  Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare head, with the Headsman, & other Officers. Duke. 
Yet once again proclaim it publicly,  
If any friend will pay the sum for him,  
He shall not die, so much we tender him.  Adr. 
justice's most sacred Duke against the Abbess.  Duke. 
She is a virtuous and a reverend Lady,  
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.  Adr. 
May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husband,  
Who 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 wots 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 bend on us  
Chased us away: till raising of more aid  
We came again to bind them: then they fled  
Into this Abbey, whether 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. 
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 Messenger. 
Oh Mistress, Mistress, shift and save yourself,  
My Master and his man are both broke lose,  
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 Mr preaches patience to him, and the while  
His man with Cizers nickes him like a fool:  
And sure (unless you send some present help)  
Between them they will kill the Conjurer.  Adr. 
Peace fool, thy Master and his man are here,  
And that is false thou dost report to us.  Mess. 
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. 
Come stand by me, fear nothing: guard with Halberds.  Adr. 
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 humane reason.  Enter Antipholus, and E. Dromio of Ephesus. E. Ant. 
justice's most gracious Duke, oh grant me justice,  
Even for the service that long since I did thee,  
When I bedrid 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.  Mar. Fat. 
Unless the fear of death doth make me door, I see my son Antipholus and Dromio.  E. Ant. 
justice (sweet Prince) against that Woman there:  
She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife;  
That hath abused and dishonoured me,  
Even in the strength and height of injury:  
Beyond imagination is the wrong  
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.  Duke. 
Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.  E. Ant. 
This day (great Duke) she shut the doors upon me,  
While she with Harlots feasted in my house.  Duke. 
A grievous fault: say woman, didst thou so?  Adr. 
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.  Luc. 
Near may I look on day, nor sleep on night,  
But she tells to your Highness' simple truth.  Gold. 
O perjured woman! They are both forsworn,  
In this the Madman justly chargeth them.  E. Ant. 
My Liege, I am advised what I say,  
Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine,  
Nor headie-rash prouoaked with raging ire,  
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.  
This woman locked me out this day from dinner;  
That Goldsmith there, were he not packed with her,  
Can 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 Balthasar 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 returned.  
Then fairly I bespoke the Officer  
To go in person with me to my house.  
By ' th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more  
Of vild 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-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;  
A living dead 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 possessed. Then altogether  
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 gained my freedom; and immediately  
Ran hither to your Grace, whom I beseech  
To give me ample satisfaction  
For these deep shames, and great indignities.  Gold. 
My Lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him:  
That he dined not at home, but was locked out.  Duke. 
But had he such a Chain of thee, or no?  Gold. 
He had my Lord, and when he ran in here,  
These people saw the Chain about his neck.  Mar. 
Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine,  
Herd 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.  E. Ant. 
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. 
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?  E. Dro. 
Sir he dined with her there, at the Porpentine.  Cur. 
He did, and from my finger snatched that Ring.  E. Anti. 
'tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her.  Duke. 
Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey here?  Curt. 
As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace.  Duke. 
Why this is strange: Go call the Abbess hither.  
I think you are all mated, or stark mad.  Exit one to the Abbess. Fa. 
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. 
Speak freely Syracusan what thou wilt.  Fath. 
Is not your name sir called Antipholus?  
And is not that your bondman Dromio?  E. Dro. 
Within this hour I was his bondman sir,  
But he I thank him gnawed in two my cords,  
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.  Fath. 
I am sure you both of you remember me.  Dro. 
Ourselves we do remember sir by you:  
For lately we were bound as you are now.  
You are not Pinches patiented, are you sir?  Father. 
Why look you strange on me? you know me well.  E. Ant. 
I never saw you in my life till now.  Fa. 
Oh! grief hath changed me since you saw me last,  
And careful hours with times deformed hand,  
Have written strange defeatures in my face:  
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?  Ant. 
Neither.  Fat. 
Dromio, nor thou?  Dro. 
No trust me sir, nor I.  Fa. 
I am sure thou dost?  E. Dromio. 
I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.  Fath. 
Not know my voice, oh times extremity  
Hast thou so cracked and split 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 drizled 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.  Ant. 
I never saw my Father in my life.  Fa. 
But seven years since, in Siracusa boy  
Thou knowst we parted, but perhaps my son,  
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery.  Ant. 
The Duke, and all that know me in the City,  
Can witness with me that it is not so.  
I ne'er saw Siracusa in my life.  Duke. 
I tell thee Syracusan, twenty years  
Have I been Patron to Antipholus,  
During which time, he ne'er saw Siracusa:  
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.  Enter the Abbess with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir. Abbess. 
Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wronged.  All gather to see them. Adr. 
I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.  Duke. 
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?  S. Dromio. 
I Sir am Dromio, command him away.  E. Dro. 
I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay.  S. Ant. 
Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost.  S. Drom. 
Oh my old Master, who hath bound him here?  Abb. 
Who ever bound him, I will lose his bonds,  
And gain a husband by his liberty:  
Speak old Aegeon, if thou be'st the man  
That hadst a wife once called Aemilia,  
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons?  
Oh if thou be'st the same Aegeon, speak:  
And speak unto the same Aemilia.  Duke. 
Why here gins his Morning story right:  
These two Antipholus, these two so like,  
And these two Dromio's, one in semblance:  
Besides her urging of her wrack at sea,  
These are the parents to these children,  
Which accidentally are met together.  Fa. 
If I dream not, thou art Aemilia,  
If thou art she, tell me, where is that son  
That floated with thee on the fatal rafte.  Abb. 
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. 
Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first.  S. Ant. 
No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse.  Duke. 
Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which.  E. Ant. 
I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord  E. Dro. 
And I with him.  E. Ant. 
Brought to this Town by that most famous Warrior,  
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned Uncle.  Adr. 
Which of you two did dine with me to day?  S. Ant. 
I, gentle Mistress.  Adr. 
And are not you my husband?  E. Ant. 
No, I say nay to that.  S. Ant. 
And so do I, yet did she call me so:  
And this fair Gentlewoman her sister here  
Did call me brother. What I told you then,  
I hope I shall have leisure to make good,  
If this be not a dream I see and hear.  Goldsmith. 
That is the Chain sir, which you had of me.  S. Ant. 
I think it be sir, I deny it not.  E. Ant. 
And you sir for this Chain arrested me.  Gold. 
I think I did sir, I deny it not.  Adr. 
I sent you money sir to be your bail  
By Dromio, but I think he brought it not.  E. Dro. 
No, none by me.  S. Ant. 
This purse of Ducats I received from you,  
And Dromio my man did bring them me:  
I see we still did meet each others man,  
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me,  
And thereupon these errors are arose.  E. Ant. 
These Ducats pawn I for my father here.  Duke. 
It shall not need, thy father hath his life.  Cur. 
Sir I must have that Diamond from you.  E. Ant. 
There take it, and much thanks for my good cheer.  Abb. 
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 simpathized one day's error  
Have suffered 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 are delivered:  
The Duke my husband, and my children both,  
And you the Calendars of their Nativity,  
Go to a Gossip's feast, and go with me,  
After so long grief such Nativity.  Duke. 
With all my heart, I'll Gossip at this feast.  Exeunt omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers. S. Dro. 
Mast▪ shall I fetch your stuff from shipbord?  E. An. 
Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embarked  S. Dro. 
Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur.  S. Ant. 
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.  Exit S. Dro. 
There is a fat friend at your master's house,  
That kitchined me for you to day at dinner:  
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.  E.D. 
Me thinks you are my glass, & not my brother:  
I see by you, I am a sweet-faced youth,  
Will you walk in to see their gossiping?  S. Dro. 
Not I sir, you are my elder.  E. Dro. 
That's a question, how shall we try it.  S. Dro. 
we'll draw Cuts for the Signior, till then, lead thou first.  E. Dro. 
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.   
FINIS.   

Much ado about Nothing.  

Actus primus,  

Scena prima.  Enter Leonato Governor of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his Niece, with a messenger. Leonato. 
I Learn in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon, comes this night to Messina.  Mess. 
He is very near by this: he was not three Leagues off when I left him.  Leon. 
How many Gentlemen have you lost in this action?  Mess. 
But few of any sort, and none of name.  Leon. 
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.  Mess. 
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.  Leo. 
He hath an Uncle here in Messina, will be very much glad of it.  Mess. 
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.  Leo. 
Did he break out into tears?  Mess. 
In great measure.  Leo. 
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, then to joy at weeping?  Bea. 
I pray you, is Signior Mountant● returned from the wars, or no?  Mess. 
I know none of that name, Lady, there was none such in the army of any sort.  Leon. 
What is he that you ask for Niece?  Hero. 
My cousin means Signior Benedick of Milan  Mess. 
O he's returned, and as pleasant as ever he was.  Beat. 
He set up his bills here in Messina, & challenged Cupid at the Flight: and my Uncle's fool reading the Challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the Burbolt. 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 kill.  Leon. 
I'faith Niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much, but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.  Mess. 
He hath done good service Lady in these wars.  Beat. 
You had musty victual, and he hath holp to ease it: he's a very valiant Trencherman, he hath an excellent stomach.  Mess. 
And a good soldier too Lady.  Beat. 
And a good soldier to a Lady. But what is he to a Lord?  Mess. 
A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honourable virtues.  Beat. 
It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuffed man: but for the stuffing well, we are all mortal.  Leon. 
You must not (sir) mistake my Niece, there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her: they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them.  Bea. 
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.  Mess. 
Is't possible?  Beat. 
Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block.  Mess. 
I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your books.  Bea. 
No, and 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?  Mess. 
He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.  Beat. 
O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.  Mess. 
I will hold friends with you Lady.  Bea. 
Do good friend.  Leo. 
You'll ne'er run mad Niece.  Bea. 
No, not till a hot january.  Mess. 
Don Pedro is approached.  Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and john the bastard. Pedro. 
Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.  Leon. 
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.  Pedro. 
You embrace your charge too willingly: I think this is your daughter.  Leonato. 
Her mother hath many times told me so.  Bened. 
Were you in doubt that you asked her?  Leonato. 
Signior Benedick, no, for than were you a child.  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.  Ben. 
If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.  Beat. 
I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedick▪ no body marks you.  Ben. 
What my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?  Beat. 
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.  Bene. 
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.  Beat. 
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 love's me.  Bene. 
God keep your Ladyship still in that mind, so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratched face.  Beat. 
Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were.  Bene. 
Well, you are a rare Parrot teacher.  Beat. 
A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of your.  Ben. 
I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer, but keep your way a God's name, I have done.  Beat. 
You always end with a jades trick, I know you of old.  Pedro. 
This 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 hearty prays some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart.  Leon. 
If you swear, my Lord, you shall not be forsworn, let me bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother: I own you all duty.  john. 
I thank you, I am not of many words, but I thank you.  Leon. 
Please it your grace lead on?  Pedro. 
Your hand Leonato, we will go together.  Exeunt. Manet Benedick and Claudio. Clau. 
Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato?  Bene. 
I noted her not, but I looked on her.  Clau. 
Is she not a modest young Lady?  Bene. 
Do you question me as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgement? or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?  Clau. 
No, I pray thee speak in sober judgement.  Bene: 
Why i'faith me thinks 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 then she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other, but as she is, I do not like her.  Clau. 
Thou thinkest I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her.  Bene. 
Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?  Clau. 
Can the world buy such a jewel?  Ben. 
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?  Clau. 
In mine eye, she is the sweetest Lady that ever I looked on.  Bene. 
I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cousin, and 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?  Clau. 
I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.  Bene. 
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, and thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away sundays: look, done Pedro is returned to seek you.  Enter don Pedro, john the bastard. Pedr. 
What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonatoes'?  Bened. 
I would your Grace would constrain me to tell.  Pedro. 
I charge thee on thy allegiance.  Ben. 
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, Leonatoes' short daughter.  Clau. 
If this were so, so were it uttered.  Bened. 
Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so: but indeed, God forbidden it should be so.  Clau. 
If my passion change not shortly, God forbidden it should be otherwise.  Pedro. 
Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy.  Clau. 
You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord.  Pedr. 
By my troth I speak my thought.  Clau. 
And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine.  Bened. 
And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speak mine.  Clau. 
That I love her, I feel.  Pedr. 
That she is worthy, I know.  Bened. 
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.  Pedr. 
Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of Beauty.  Clau. 
And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will.  Ben. 
That a woman conceived me, I thank her: that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thankes: but that I will have a ●echare wound in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldric, 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.  Pedro. 
I shall see thee ere I die, look pale with love.  Bene. 
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 Ballet-makers pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid.  Pedro. 
Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.  Bene. 
If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam.  Pedro. 
Well, as time shall try: In time the savage Bull doth bear the yoke.  Bene. 
The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bulls horns, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildly painted, and in such great Letters as they writ, here is good horse to hire: let them signify under my sign, here you may see Benedick the married man.  Clau. 
If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn mad.  Pedro. 
Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his Quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.  Bene. 
I look for an earthquake too then.  Pedro. 
Well, you will temporize with the hours, in the mean time, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonatoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper, for indeed he hath made great preparation.  Bene. 
I have almost matter enough in me for such an Embassage, and so I commit you.  Clau. 
To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it.  Pedro. 
The sixth of july. Your loving friend, Benedick.  Bene. 
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. Clau. 
My Liege, your Highness now may do me good.  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.  Clau. 
Hath Leonato any son my Lord?  Pedro. 
No child but Hero, she's his only heir.  
Dost thou affect her Claudio?  Clau. 
O my Lord,  
When you went onward on this ended action,  
I looked 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 returned, and that warre-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.  Pedro. 
Thou wilt be like a lover presently,  
And tyre the hearer with a book of words:  
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,  
And I will break with her: wast not to this end,  
That thou beganst to twist so fine a story?  Clau. 
How sweetly do you 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.  Ped. 
What need the bridge much brother 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 practice let us put it presently.  Exeunt. Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato. Leo. 
How now brother, where is my cousin your son: hath he provided this music?  Old. 
He is very busy about it, but brother, I can tell you news that you yet dreamt not of.  Lo. 
Are they good?  Old. 
As the events stamps them, but they have ● good cover: they▪ show well outward, the Prince and Count Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus 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.  Leo. 
Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?  Old. 
A good sharp fellow, I will send for him, and question him yourself.  Leo. 
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: coosins, 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. Enter Sir john the Bastard, and Conrad his companion. Con. 
What the good year my Lord, why are you thus out of measure sad?  joh. 
There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadness is without limit.  Con. 
You should hear reason.  john. 
And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it?  Con. 
If not a present remedy, yet a patiented sufferance.  joh. 
I wonder that thou (being as thou sayest thou art, borne 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.  Con. 
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 root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself, it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.  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, then 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 mussel, 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 mean time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.  Con. 
Can you make no use of your discontent?  john. 
I will make all use of it, for I use it only.  
Who comes here? what news Borachio?  Enter Borachio. Bor. 
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.  john. 
Will it serve for any Model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool that betrothes himself to unquietness?  Bor. 
Marry it is your brothers right hand.  john. 
Who, the most exquisite Claudio?  Bor. 
Even he.  john. 
A proper squire, and who, and who, which way looks he?  Bor. 
Marry on Hero, the daughter and Heir of Leonato.  john. 
A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this?  Bor. 
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 whipped 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.  john. 
Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure, that young startup 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?  Conr. 
To the death my Lord.  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?  Bor. 
we'll wait upon your Lordship.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, and a kinsman. Leonato. 
Was not Count john here at supper?  Brother. 
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.  Leon. 
Then half signior Benedicks tongue in Count john's mouth, and half Count john's melancholy in Signior Benedicks face.  Beat. 
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 he could get her good will.  Leon. 
By my troth Niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.  Brother. 
Infaith she's too cursed.  Beat. 
Too cursed is more than cursed, I shall lessen Gods sending that way: for it is said, God sends a cursed Cow short horns, but to a Cow too cursed he sends none.  Leon. 
So, by being too cursed, God will send you no horns.  Beat. 
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 upon a husband that hath no beard.  Batrice. 
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 sixpences in earnest of the Berrord, and lead his Apes into hell.  Leon. 
Well then, go you into hell.  Beat. 
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 S. Peter: for the heavens, he shows me where the Bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.  Brother. 
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, as it please you: but yet for all that cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other curtsy, and say, father, as it please me.  Leonato. 
Well niece, I hope to see you one day sitted with a husband.  Beatrice. 
Not till God make men of some other mettle than earth, would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastred with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marvel? no uncle, i'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.  Leon. 
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, & so dance out the answer, for hear me Hero, wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch ijgge, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch ijgge (and full as fantastical) the wedding mannerly modest, (as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sinks into his grave.  Leonata. 
Cousin you apprehend passing shrewdly.  Beatrice. 
I have a good eye uncle, I can see a Church by daylight.  Leon. 
The revellers are entering brother, make good room.  Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedick, and Balthasar, or dumb john, Maskers with a drum. 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.  Pedro. 
With me in your company.  Hero. 
I may say so when I please.  Pedro. 
And when please you to say so?  Hero. 
When I like your favour, for God defend the Lute should be like the case.  Pedro. 
My visor is philemon's roof, within the house is Love..  Hero. 
Why then your visor should be thatched.  Pedro. 
Speak low if you speak Love..  Bene. 
Well, I would you did like me.  Mar. 
So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities.  Bene. 
Which is one?  Mar. 
I say my prayers aloud.  Ben. 
I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.  Mar. 
God match me with a good dancer.  Balt. 
Amen.  Mar. 
And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done: answer Clarke.  Balt. 
No more words the Clerk is answered.  Ursula. 
I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio.  Anth. 
At a word, I am not.  Ursula. 
I know you by the wagling of your head.  Anth. 
To tell you true, I counterfeit him.  Vrsu. 
You could never do him so ill well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up & down, you are he, you are he.  Anth. 
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.  Beat. 
Will you not tell me who told you so?  Bene. 
No, you shall pardon me.  Beat. 
Nor will you not tell me who you are?  Bened. 
Not now.  Beat. 
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.  Bene. 
What's he?  Beat. 
I am sure you know him well enough.  Bene. 
Not I, believe me.  Beat. 
Did he never make you laugh?  Bene. 
I pray you what is he?  Beat. 
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 villainy, for he both pleaseth 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.  Bene. 
When I know the Gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.  Beat. 
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. We must follow the Leaders.  Ben. 
In every good thing.  Bea. 
Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning.  Exeunt. Music for the dance. 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.  john. 
Are not you signior Benedick?  Clau. 
You know me well, I am he.  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 love's her?  john. 
I heard him swear his affection,  Bor. 
So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to night.  john. 
Come, let us to the banquet.  Ex. manet Clau. Clau. 
Thus answer I in name of Benedick,  
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio:  
'Tis certain so, the Prince woes 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.  Enter Benedick. Ben. 
Count Claudio.  Clau. 
Yea, the same.  Ben. 
Come, will you go with me?  Clau. 
Whither?  Ben. 
Even to the next Willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the Garland off? 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.  Clau: 
I wish him joy of her.  Ben. 
Why that's spoken like an honest Drovier, so they sell Bullocks: but did you think the Prince would have served you thus?  Clau. 
I pray you leave me.  Ben. 
Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.  Clau. 
If it will not be, I'll leave you.  Exit. Ben. 
Alas poor hurt fowl, now will he creep into sedges: But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, & 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 putt the world into her person, and so gives me out: well, I'll be revenged as I may.  Enter the Prince. Pedro. 
Now Signior, where's the Count, did you see him?  Bene. 
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, told him true, that your grace had got the 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 a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.  Pedro. 
To be whipped, what's his fault?  Bene. 
The slat transgression of a Schoolboy, who being over-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.  Pedro. 
Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer.  Ben. 
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.  Pedro. 
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.  Bene. 
If their singing answer your saying▪ by my faith you say honestly.  Pedro. 
The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you, the Gentleman that danced with her, told her she is much wronged by you.  Bene. 
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, and that I was duller than a great thaw, hurling 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 poynyards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as 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 had 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.  Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero. Pedro. 
Look here she comes.  Bene. 
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 device 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?  Pedro. 
None, but to desire your good company.  Bene. 
O God sir, here's a dish I love not, I cannot endure this Lady tongue.  Exit. Pedr. 
Come Lady, come, you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick.  Beatr. 
Indeed my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he won it of me, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it.  Pedro. 
You have put him down Lady, you have put him down.  Beat. 
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.  Pedro. 
Why how now Count, wherefore are you sad?  Claud. 
Not sad my Lord.  Pedro. 
How then? sick?  Claud. 
Neither, my Lord.  Beat. 
The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well: but civil Count, civil as an Orange, and something of a jealous complexion.  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.  Leona. 
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it.  Beatr. 
Speak Count, 'tis your Qu.  Claud. 
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.  Beat. 
Speak cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither.  Pedro. 
Infaith Lady you have a merry heart.  Beatr. 
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 my heart.  Clau. 
And so she doth cousin.  Beat. 
Good Lord for alliance: thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburned, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.  Pedro. 
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.  Beat. 
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.  Prince. 
Will you have me? Lady.  Beat. 
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 borne to speak all mirth, and no matter.  Prince. 
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry hour.  Beatr. 
No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a star danced, and under that was I borne: cousins God give you joy.  Leonato. 
Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?  Beat. 
I cry you mercy Uncle, by your Grace's pardon.  Exit Beatrice. Prince. 
By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady.  Leon. 
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 dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.  Pedro. 
She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.  Leonato. 
O, by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit.  Prince. 
She were an excellent wife for Benedick.  Leonato. 
O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.  Prince. 
Count Claudio, when mean you to go to Church?  Clau. 
To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches, till Love have all his rites.  Leonata. 
Not till monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer mind.  Prince. 
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, th' one with th' 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.  Leonata. 
My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings.  Claud. 
And I my Lord.  Prin. 
And you to gentle Hero?  Hero. 
I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.  Prin. 
And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus fare 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.  Exit. Enter john and Borachio. joh. 
It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.  Bora. 
Yea my Lord, but I can cross it.  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?  Bor. 
Not honestly my Lord, but so covertly, that no dishonesty shall appear in me.  john. 
Show me briefly how.  Bor. 
I think I told your Lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.  john. 
I remember.  Bor. 
I can at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's chamber window.  john. 
What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?  Bor. 
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.  john. 
What proof shall I make of that?  Bor. 
Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato, look you for any other issue?  john. 
Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.  Bor. 
Go then, find me a meet hour, to draw on Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero love's me, intent a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio (as in a 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 mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming truths of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.  john. 
Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.  Bor. 
Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.  john. 
I will presently go learn their day of marriage.  Exit. Enter Benedick alone. Bene. 
Boy.  Boy. 
Signior.  Bene. 
In my chamber window lies a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard.  Boy. 
I am here already sir.  Exit. Bene. 
I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here again. I do much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love, & 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 taber and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot, 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, & to the purpose (like an honest man & 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, & 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 for an Angel: of good discourse: an excellent Musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and Monsieur Love, I will hide me in the Arbour.  Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and jacke Wilson. Prin. 
Come, shall we hear this music?  Claud. 
Yea my good Lord: how still the evening is,  
As hushed on purpose to grace harmony.  Prin. 
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?  Clau. 
O very well my Lord: the music ended,  
we'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth.  Prince. 
Come Balthasar, we'll hear that song again.  Balth. 
O good my Lord, tax not so bad a voice,  
To slander music any more than once.  Prin. 
It is the witness still of excellency,  
To slander Music any more than once.  Prince. 
It is the witness still of excellency,  
To put a strange face on his own perfection,  
I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more.  Balth. 
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing,  
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit,  
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woos,  
Yet will he swear he love's.  Prince. 
Nay pray thee come,  
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,  
Do it in notes.  Balth. 
Note this before my notes,  
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.  Prince. 
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks,  
Note notes forsooth, and nothing.  Bene. 
Now divine air, now is his soul ravished, is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? well, a horn for my money when all's done.  

The Song.  

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 bonnis,  
Converting all your sounds of woe,  
Into hay nonny nonny.   

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,  
Of dumps so dull and heavy,  
The fraud of men were ever so,  
Since summer first was levy,  
Then sigh not so, etc.    Prince. 
By my troth a good song.  Balth. 
And an ill singer, my Lord.  Prince. 
Ha', no, no faith, thou singest well enough for a shift.  Ben. 
And he had been a dog that should have howld 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.  Prince. 
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 Heroes chamber window.  Balth. 
The best I can, my Lord.  Exit Balthasar. Prince. 
Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick?  Cla. 
O I, stalk on, stalk on, the foul sits. I did never think that Lady would have loved any man.  Leon. 
No nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor.  Bene. 
Is't possible? sits the wind in that corner?  Leo. 
By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she love's him with an enraged affection, it is passed the infinite of thought.  Prince. 
May be she doth but counterfeit.  Claud. 
Faith like enough.  Leon. 
O God! counterfeit? there was never counterfeit of passion, came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.  Prince. 
Why what effects of passion shows she?  Claud. 
Bait the hook well, this fish will bite.  Leon. 
What effects my Lord? she will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.  Clau. 
She did indeed.  Prin. 
How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.  Leo. 
I would have sworn it had, my Lord, especially against Benedick.  Bene. 
I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot sure hide himself in such reverence.  Claud. 
He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up.  Prince. 
Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?  Leonato. 
No, and swears she never will, that's her torment.  Claud. 
'Tis true indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encountered him with scorn, writ to him that I love him?  Leo. 
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.  Clau. 
Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.  Leon. 
O when she had writ it, & was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet.  Clau. 
That.  Leon. 
O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpennies, 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.  Clau. 
Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses, O sweet Benedick, God give me patience.  Leon. 
She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself, it is very true.  Princ. 
It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.  Clau. 
To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor Lady worse.  Prin. 
And 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.  Prince. 
In every thing, but in loving Benedick.  Leon. 
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.  Prince. 
I would she had bestowed this dotage on me, I would have daft all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.  Leon. 
Were it good think you?  Clau. 
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.  Prin. 
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.  Clau. 
He is a very proper man.  Prin. 
He hath indeed a good outward happiness.  Clau. 
'Fore God, and in my mind very wise.  Prin. 
He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.  Leon. 
And I take him to be valiant.  Prin. 
As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may see he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a Christianlike fear.  Leon. 
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.  Prin. 
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 see Benedick, and tell him of her love,  Claud. 
Never tell him, my Lord, let her wear it out with good counsel.  Leon. 
Nay that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first.  Prin. 
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 to have so good a Lady.  Leon. 
My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.  Clau. 
If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.  Prin. 
Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman 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 into dinner.  Exeunt. Bene. 
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 the 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 love's 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. Beat. 
Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.  Bene. 
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.  Beat. 
I took no more pains for those thankes, than you take pains to thank me, if it had been painful, I would not have come.  Bene. 
You take pleasure then in the message.  Beat. 
Yea just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal: you have no stomach signior, far you well.  Exit. Bene. 
Ha', against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I took no more pains for those thankes 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 thankes: 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.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Ursula. Hero. 
Good Margaret run thee to the parlour,  
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 over-heardst us,  
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,  
Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun,  
Forbidden 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.  Marg. 
I'll make her come I warrant you presently.  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 crasty arrow made,  
That only wounds by hearsay: now begin,  Enter Beatrice. 
For look where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs  
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.  Urs. 
The pleasantest 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 wood-bine coverture,  
Fear you not my part of the Dialogue.  Her. 
Then go we near her that her ear lose nothing,  
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it:  
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 love's Beatrice so entirely?  Her. 
So says the Prince, and my new trothed Lord.  Urs. 
And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?  Her. 
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 then that of Beatrice:  
Disdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,  
Mis-prizing 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, left 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 antic,  
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill headed:  
If low, an agate very vildly 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.  Vrsu. 
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 covered fire,  
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:  
It were a better death, to die with mocks,  
Which is as bad as die with tickling.  Vrsu. 
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 device some honest slanders,  
To stain my cousin with, one doth not know,  
How much an ill word may impoison liking.  Vrsu. 
O do not do your cousin such a wrong,  
She cannot be so much without true judgement,  
Having so swift and excellent a wit  
As she is prised 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.  Vrsu. 
I pray you be not angry with me, Madame,  
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.  Vrsu. 
His excellence did earn it ere he had it:  
When are you married Madame?  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.  Vrsu. 
she's ta'en I warrant you,  
We have caught her Madame?  Hero. 
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps,  
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.  Exit. Beat. 
What fire is in mine ears? can this be true?  
Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?  
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu,  
No glory life's 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. Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato. Prince. 
I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.  Clau. 
I'll bring you thither my Lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.  Prin. 
Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat and forbidden 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 bowstring, 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.  Bene. 
Gallants, I am not as I have been.  Leo. 
So say I, methinks you are sadder.  Claud. 
I hope he be in love.  Prin. 
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.  Bene. 
I have the toothache.  Prin. 
Draw it.  Bene. 
Hang it.  Claud. 
You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.  Prin. 
What? sigh for the toothache.  Leon. 
Where is but a humour or a worm.  Bene. 
Well, every one cannot master a grief, but he that has it.  Clau. 
Yet say I, he is in love.  Prin. 
There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is.  Clau. 
If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs, a brushes his hat a mornings, What should that bode?  Prin. 
Hath any man seen him at the Barbers?  Clau. 
No, but the Barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls.  Leon. 
Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.  Prin. 
Nay a rubs himself with civet, can you smell him out by that?  Clau. 
That's as much as to say, the sweet youths in love.  Prin. 
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.  Clau. 
And when was he want to wash his face?  Prin. 
Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of him.  Clau. 
Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.  Prin. 
Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, he is in love.  Clau. 
Nay, but I know who love's him.  Prince. 
That would I know too, I warrant one that knows him not.  Cla. 
Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despite of all, dies for him.  Prin. 
She shall be buried with her face upwards.  Bene. 
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.  Prin. 
For my life to break with him about Beatrice.  Clau. 
'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 john the Bastard. Bast. 
My Lord and brother, God save you.  Prin. 
Good den brother.  Bast. 
If your leisure served, I would speak with you.  Prince. 
In private?  Bast. 
If it please you, yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of, concerns him.  Prin. 
What's the matter?  Basta. 
Means your Lordship to be married to morrow?  Prin. 
You know he does.  Bast. 
I know not that when he knows what I know.  Clau. 
If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.  Bast. 
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.  Prin. 
Why, what's the matter?  Bastard. 
I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal.  Clau. 
Who Hero?  Bast. 
Even she, Leonatoes' Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.  Clau. 
Disloyal?  Bast. 
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.  Claud. 
May this be so?  Princ. 
I will not think it.  Bast. 
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, & heard more, proceed accordingly.  Clau. 
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.  Prin. 
And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.  Bast. 
I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, bear it coldly but till night, and let the issue show itself.  Prin. 
O day untowardly turned!  Claud. 
O mischief strangely thwarting!  Bastard. 
O plague right well prevented! so will you say, when you have seen the sequel.  Exit. Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch. Dog. 
Are you good men and true?  Verg. 
Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation body and soul.  Dogb. 
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 Dogbery.  Dog. 
First, who think you the most desertless man to be Constable?  Watch. 1. 
Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coal, for they can write and read.  Dogb. 
Come hither neighbour Sea-coal, 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.  Watch 2. 
Both which Master Constable  Dogb. 
You have: I knew it would be your answer: well, for your favour sir, why give God thankes, & 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.  Watch 2. 
How if a will not stand?  Dogb. 
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.  Dogb. 
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 talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endured.  Watch. 
We will rather sleep than talk, we know what belongs to a Watch.  Dog. 
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 Alehouses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed.  Watch. 
How if they will not?  Dogb. 
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.  Watch. 
Well sir.  Dogb. 
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.  Watch. 
If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him.  Dogb. 
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.  Ver. 
You have been always called a merciful man partner.  Dog. 
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.  Watch. 
How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?  Dog. 
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.  Dog. 
This is the end of the charge: you constable are to present the Princes own person, if you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him.  Verges. 
Nay birladie that I think a cannot.  Dog. 
Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the Statues, 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. 
Birladie I think it be so.  Dog. 
Ha', ah ha', well masters good night, and there be any matter of weight chances, call up me, keep your fellow's counsels, and your own, and good night, come neighbour.  Watch. 
Well masters, we hear our charge, let us go sit here upon the Church bench till two, and then all to bed.  Dog. 
One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about signior Leonatoes' door, for the wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coil to night, adieu, be vigitant I beseech you.  Exeunt. Enter Borachio and Conrade. Bor. 
What, Conrade?  Watch. 
Peace, stir not.  Bor. 
Conrad I say.  Con. 
Here man, I am at thy elbow.  Bor. 
Mass and my elbow itched, I thought there would a scab follow.  Con. 
I will owe thee an answer▪ for that, and now forward with thy tale.  Bor. 
Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drissels rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.  Watch. 
Some treason masters, yet stand close.  Bor. 
Therefore know, I have earned of Don john a thousand Ducats.  Con. 
Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear?  Bor. 
Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.  Con. 
I wonder at it.  Bor. 
That shows thou art unconfirmed, thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.  Con. 
Yes, it is apparel.  Bor. 
I mean the fashion.  Con. 
Yes the fashion is the fashion.  Bor. 
Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool, but seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?  Watch. 
I know that deformed, a has been a vile thief, this seven. years, a goes up and down like a gentle man: I remember his name.  Bor. 
Didst thou not hear some body?  Con. 
No, 'twas the vain on the house.  Bor. 
Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thief this fashion is, how giddily a turns about all the Hot-blouds, between fourteen & five & thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoes' soldiers in the rechie painting, sometime like god Bells priests in the old Church window, sometime like the shaved Hercules in the smircht worm eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club.  Con. 
All this I see, and 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?  Bor. 
Not so neither, but know that I have to night wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes 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 vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed by my Master Don john, saw a far off in the Orchard this amiable encounter.  Con. 
And thought thy Margaret was Hero?  Bor. 
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 villainy, 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.  Watch. 1. 
We charge you in the Prince's name stand.  Watch. 2. 
Call up the right master Constable, we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery, that ever was known in the Commonwealth.  Watch. 1. 
And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a wears a lock.  Conr. 
Mast● masters.  Watch. 2. 
your be made bring deformed forth I warrant you,  Conr. 
Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us.  Bor. 
We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men's bills.  Conr. 
A commodity in question I warrant you, come we'll obey you.  Exeunt. Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula. Hero. 
Good Ursula wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.  Vrsu. 
I will Lady.  Her. 
And bid her come hither.  Urs. 
Well.  Mar. 
Troth I think your other rabato were better.  Bero. 
No pray thee good Meg, I'll wear this.  Marg. 
By my troths not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so.  Bero. 
My cosin's a fool, and thou art another, i'll wear none but this.  Mar. 
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.  Bero. 
O that exceeds they say.  Mar. 
By my troths but a nightgown in respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round underborn 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.  Marga. 
'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a man.  Hero. 
Fie upon thee, art not ashamed?  Marg. 
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 no body, 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 Cousin.  Beat. 
Good morrow sweet Hero.  Hero. 
Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune?  Beat. 
I am out of all other tune, me thinks.  Mar. 
Claps into Light a love, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it and I'll dance it.  Beat. 
Ye Light alone with your heels, then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns.  Mar. 
O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.  Beat. 
'Tis almost five a clock cousin, 'tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hay ho.  Mar. 
For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?  Beat. 
For the letter that gins them all, H.  Mar. 
Well, and you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star.  Beat. 
What means the fool trow?  Mar. 
Nothing I, but God send every one rheir hearts desire.  Hero. 
These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.  Beat. 
I am stuffed cousin, I cannot smell.  Mar. 
A maid and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold.  Beat. 
O God help me, God help me, how long have you professed apprehension?  Mar. 
Ever since you left it, doth not my wit become me rarely?  Beat. 
It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap, by my troth I am sick.  Mar. 
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 prickst her with a thissell.  Beat. 
Benedictus, why benedictus? you have some moral in this benedictus.  Mar. 
Moral? no by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy thissell, you may think perchance that I think you are in love, nay birlady 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 hart 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 me thinks you look with your eyes as other women do.  Beat. 
What pace is this that thy tongue keeps.  Mar. 
Not a false gallop.  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 cousin, good Meg, good Ursula.  Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough. Leonato. 
What would you with me, honest neighbour?  Const. Dog. 
Marry sir I would have some confidence with you, that decernes you nearly.  Leon. 
Brief I pray you, for you see it is a busy time with me.  Const. Dog. 
Marry this it is sir.  Headb. 
Yes in truth it is sir.  Leon. 
What is it my good friends?  Con. Do. 
Goodman Verges sir speaks a little of the matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God help I would desire they were, but infaith honest as the skin between his brows.  Head. 
Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I  Con. Dog. 
Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges.  Leon. 
Neighbours, you are tedious.  Con. Dog. 
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 in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.  Leon. 
All thy tediousness on me, ah?  Const. Dog. 
Yea, and 'twere a thousand times 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.  Head. 
And so am I  Leon. 
I would fain know what you have to say.  Head. 
Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.  Con. Dog. 
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, and 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.  Leon. 
Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you.  Con. Do. 
Gifts that God gives.  Leon. 
I must leave you.  Con. Dog. 
One word sir, our watch sir have indeed comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would have them this morning examined before your worship.  Leon. 
Take their examination yourself, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you.  Const. 
It shall be suffigance.  Leon. 
Drink some wine ere you go: far you well.  Exit. Messenger. 
My Lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband.  Leon. 
I'll wait upon them, I am ready.  Dogb. 
Go good partner, go get you to Francis Sea-coal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the Gaol: we are now to examine those men.  Verges. 
And we must do it wisely.  Dogb. 
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 jail.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice. Leonato. 
Come friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.  Fran. 
You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady.  Clau. 
No.  Leo. 
To be married to her: Friar, you come to marry her.  friar. 
Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count  Hero. 
I do.  friar. 
If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it.  Claud. 
Know you any, Hero?  Hero. 
None my Lord.  friar. 
Know you any, Count?  Leon. 
I dare make his answer, None.  Clau. 
O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do!  Bene. 
How now! interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha', ha', he.  Clau. 
Stand thee by Friar, father, by your leave,  
Will you with free and unconstrained soul  
Give me this maid your daughter?  Leon. 
As freely son as God did give her me.  Cla. 
And what have I to give you back, whose worth  
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?  Prin. 
Nothing, unless you render her again.  Clau. 
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?  Clau. 
Not to be married,  
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.  Leon. 
Dear my Lord, if you in your own proof,  
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth,  
And made defeat of her virginity.  Clau. 
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, shown  
Bashful sincerity and comely love.  Hero. 
And seemed I ever otherwise to you?  Clau. 
Out on thee seeming, I will write against it,  
You seem to me as Diane 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 pampered animals,  
That rage in savage sensuality.  Hero. 
Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide?  Leon. 
Sweet Prince, why speak not you?  Prin. 
What should I speak?  
I stand dishonoured that have gone about,  
To link my dear friend to a common stale.  Leon. 
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?  Bast. 
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.  Bene. 
This looks not like a nuptial.  Hero. 
True, O God!  Clau. 
Leonato, stand I here?  
Is this the Prince? is this the Prince's brother?  
Is this face Heroes? are our eyes our own?  Leon. 
All this is so, but what of this my Lord?  Clau. 
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.  Leo. 
I charge thee do, as thou art my child.  Hero. 
O God defend me how am I beset,  
What kind of catechising call you this?  Clau. 
To make you answer truly to your name.  Hero. 
Is it not Hero? who can blot that name  
With any just reproach?  Claud. 
Marry that can Hero,  
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.  
What man was he, talked with you yesternight,  
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?  
Now if you are a maid, answer to this.  Hero. 
I talked with no man at that hour my Lord.  Prince. 
Why then you are 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,  
Confessed the vile encounters they have had  
A thousand times in secret.  john. 
Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord,  
Not to be spoken of,  
There is not chastity enough in language,  
Without offence to utter them: thus pretty Lady  
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.  Claud. 
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 far 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.  Leon. 
Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?  Beat. 
Why how now cousin, wherefore sink you down?  Bast. 
Come, let us go: these things come thus to light,  
Smother her spirits up.  Bene. 
How doth the Lady?  Beat. 
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 wished for.  Beatr. 
How now cousin Hero?  Fri. 
Have comfort Lady.  Leon. 
Dost thou look up?  friar. 
Yea, wherefore should she not?  Leon. 
Wherefore? Why doth not every earthly thing  
Cry shame upon her? Can she here deny  
The story that is printed in her blood?  
Do not live Hero, do not open thine eyes:  
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,  
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,  
Myself would on the reward 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 was't thou lovely in my eyes?  
Why had I not with charitable hand  
took up a beggar's issue at my gates,  
Who smeered 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 fall'n  
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.  Ben. 
Sir, sir, be patiented: for my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say.  Bea. 
O on my soul my cousin is belied.  Ben. 
Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?  Bea. 
No truly: not although until last night,  
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.  Leon. 
Confirmed, confirmed, O that is stronger made  
Which was before barred up with ribs of iron.  
Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie,  
Who loved her so, that speaking of her foulness,  
Washed it with tears? Hence from her, let her die.  Fri. 
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 marked.  
A thousand blushing apparitions,  
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames,  
In Angel whiteness bear away those blushes,  
And in her eye there hath appeared 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 tenure of my book: trust not my age,  
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,  
If this sweet Lady lie not guiltless here,  
Under some biting error.  Leo. 
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 seekest thou then to cover with excuse,  
That which appears in proper nakedness?  Fri. 
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  
Then 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  
Maintained the change of words with any creature,  
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.  Fri. 
There is some strange misprision in the Princes.  Ben. 
Two of them have the very bend of honour,  
And if their wisdoms be misled in this:  
The practice of it life's in john the bastard,  
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.  Leo. 
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 rest 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.  Fri. 
Pause awhile:  
And let my counsel sway you in this case,  
Your daughter here the Princess (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 Families old monument,  
Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites,  
That appertain unto a burial.  Leon. 
What shall become of this? What will this do?  Fri. 
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 be so maintained,  
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 prise not to the worth,  
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost,  
Why then we rack the value, than we find  
The virtue that possession would not show us  
Whiles it was ours, so will it far with Claudio:  
When he shall hear she died upon his words,  
Th' Idea of her life shall sweetly creep  
Into his study of imagination.  
And every lovely Organ of her life,  
Shall come apparelled in more precious habit:  
More moving delicate, and full of life,  
Into the eye and prospect of his soul  
Then 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,  
Then I can lay it down in likelihood.  
But if all aim but this be levelled 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.  Bene. 
Signior Leonato, let the Friar advice 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.  Leon. 
Being that I flow in grief,  
The smallest twine may lead me.  friar. 
'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 prolonged, have patience & endure.  Exit. Bene. 
Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?  Beat. 
Yea, and I will weep a while longer.  Bene. 
I will not desire that.  Beat. 
You have no reason, I do it freely.  Bene. 
Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.  Beat. 
Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!  Bene. 
Is there any way to show such friendship?  Beat. 
A very even way, but no such friend.  Bene. 
May a man do it?  Beat. 
It is a man's office, but not yours.  Bene. 
I do love nothing in the world so well as you, is not that strange?  Beat. 
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.  Bene. 
By my sword Beatrice thou lov'st me.  Beat. 
Do not swear by it and eat it.  Bene. 
I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.  Beat. 
Will you not eat your word?  Bene. 
With no sauce that can be devised to it, I protest I love thee.  Beat. 
Why then God forgive me.  Bene. 
What offence sweet Beatrice?  Beat. 
You have stayed me in a happy hour; I was about to protest I loved you.  Bene. 
And do it with all thy heart.  Beat. 
I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest.  Bened. 
Come, bid me do any thing for thee.  Beat. 
Kill Claudio.  Bene. 
Ha', not for the wide world.  Beat. 
You kill me to deny, farewell.  Bene. 
Tarry sweet Beatrice.  Beat. 
I am gone, though I am here, there is no love in you, nay I pray you let me go.  Bene. 
Beatrice.  Beat. 
Infaith I will go.  Bene. 
we'll be friends first.  Beat. 
You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.  Bene. 
Is Claudio thine enemy?  Beat. 
Is a 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, unmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace.  Bene. 
Hear me Beatrice.  Beat. 
Talk with a man out at a window, a proper saying.  Bene. 
Nay but Beatrice.  Beat. 
Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.  Bene. 
Beat?  Beat. 
Princes and Counties! surely a Princely testimony, a goodly 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 curtsies, 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.  Bene. 
Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I love thee.  Beat. 
Use it for my love some other way then swearing by it.  Bened. 
Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?  Beat. 
Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul.  Bene. 
Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge him, I will kiss your hand, and so 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.  Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Town Clerk in gowns. Keeper. 
Is our whole dissembly appeared?  Cowley. 
O a stool and a cushion for the Sexton.  Sexton. 
Which be the malefactors?  Andrew. 
Marry that am I, and my partner.  Cowley. 
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.  Kemp. 
Yea marry, let them come before me, what is your name, friend?  Bor. 
Borachio.  Kem. 
Pray writ down Borachio. Yours sirrah.  Con. 
I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade.  Kee. 
Writ down Master gentleman Conrade●: masters, do you serve God: 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?  Con. 
Marry sir, we say we are none.  Kemp. 
A marvelous 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.  Bor. 
Sir, I say to you, we are none.  Kemp. 
Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale: have you writ down that they are none?  Sext. 
Master Constable, you go not the way to examine, you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.  Kemp. 
Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth: masters, I charge you in the Prince's name, accuse these men.  Watch 1. 
This man said sir, that Don john the Prince's brother was a villain.  Kemp. 
Writ down, Prince john a villain: why this is flat perjury, to call a Prince's brother villain.  Bora. 
Master Constable.  Kemp. 
Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy look I promise thee.  Sexton. 
What heard you him say else?  Watch 2. 
Marry that he had received a thousand ducats of Don john, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.  Kemp. 
Flat Burglary as ever was committed.  Const. 
Yea by th' mass that it is.  Sexton. 
What else fellow?  Watch 1. 
And that Count Claudio did mean upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.  Kemp. 
O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.  Sexton. 
What else?  Watch. 
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, I will go before, and show him their examination.  Const. 
Come, let them be opinioned.  Sex. 
Let them be in the hands of Coxcomb.  Kem. 
God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's Officer Coxcomb: come, bind them thou naughty varlet.  Couley. 
Away, you are an ass, you are an ass.  Kemp. 
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 houshoulder, and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the Law, go to, & 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!  Exit.  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Leonato and his brother. Brother. 
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself,  
And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief,  
Against yourself.  Leon. 
I pray thee cease thy counsel,  
Which falls into mine ears as profitless,  
As water in a siue: give not me counsel,  
Nor let no comfort delight mine ear,  
But such a one whose wrongs doth suit with mine.  
Bring me a father that so loved his child,  
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed 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 struck his beard,  
And sorrow, wag, cry 'em, 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 to sting it,  
Their counsel turns to passion, which before,  
Would give preceptiall 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.  Broth. 
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,  
How ever they have writ the stile of gods,  
And made a push at chance and sufferance.  Brother. 
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself,  
Make those that do offend you, suffer too.  Leon. 
There thou speakest 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.  Enter Prince and Claudio. Brot. 
Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily.  Prin. 
Good den, good den.  Clau. 
Good day to both of you.  Leon. 
Hear you my Lords?  Prin. 
We have some haste Leonato.  Leo. 
Some haste my Lord! well, fareyouwel my Lord,  
Are you so hasty now? well, all is one.  Prin. 
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.  Brot. 
If he could rite himself with quarrelling,  
Some of us would lie low.  Claud. 
Who wrongs him?  Leon. 
Marry thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou:  
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword,  
I fear thee not.  Claud. 
Marry beshrew my hand,  
If it should give your age such cause of fear,  
Infaith 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 wronged my 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 villainy.  Claud. 
My villainy?  Leonato. 
Thine Claudio, thine I say.  Prin. 
You say not right old man.  Leon. 
My Lord, my Lord,  
I'll prove it on his body if he dare,  
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,  
His May of youth, and bloom of lustihood.  Claud. 
Away, I will not have to do with you.  Leo. 
Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast killed my child,  
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.  Bro. 
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.  Leon. 
Brother.  Brot. 
Content yourself, God knows I loved my niece,  
And she is dead, slandered 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.  Leon. 
Brother Anthony.  Brot. 
Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea  
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,  
Scambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys,  
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander,  
Go antiquely, and show outward hideousness,  
And speak of half a dozen dangerous words,  
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst.  
And this is all.  Leon. 
But brother Anthony.  Ant. 
Come, 'tis no matter,  
Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.  Pri. 
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.  Leon. 
My Lord, my Lord.  Prin. 
I will not hear you.  Enter Benedick. Leo. 
No come brother, away, I will be heard.  Exeunt ambo. Bro. 
And shall, or some of us will smart for it.  Prin. 
See, see, here comes the man we went to seek.  Clau. 
Now signior, what news?  Ben. 
Good day my Lord.  Prin. 
Welcome signior, you are almost come to part almost a fray.  Clau. 
We had liked to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.  Prin. 
Leonato and his brother, what thinkest thou? had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.  Ben. 
In a false quarrel there is no true valour, I came to seek you both.  Clau. 
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?  Ben. 
It is in my scabbard, shall I draw it?  Prin. 
Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?  Clau. 
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.  Prin. 
As I am an honest man he looks pale, art thou sick, or angry?  Clau. 
What, courage man: what though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.  Ben. 
Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you charge it against me, I pray you choose another subject.  Clau. 
Nay then give him another staff, this last was broke cross.  Prin. 
By this light, he changes more and more, I think he be angry indeed.  Clau. 
If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.  Ben. 
Shall I speak a word in your ear?  Clau. 
God bless me from a challenge.  Ben. 
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.  Clau. 
Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.  Prin. 
What, a feast, a feast?  Clau. 
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?  Ben. 
Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily.  Prin. 
I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true says 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 no body: 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.  Claud. 
For the which she wept hearty, and said she cared not.  Prin. 
Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dear, the old man's daughter told us all.  Clau. 
All, all, and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.  Prin. 
But when shall we set the savage Bulls horns on the sensible Benedicks head?  Clau. 
Yea and text underneath, here dwells Benedick the married man.  Ben. 
Far you well, Boy, you know my mind, I will leave you now to your gosseplike 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 Lackebeard there, he and I shall meet, and till than peace be with him.  Prin. 
He is in earnest.  Clau. 
In most profound earnest, and I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.  Prin. 
And hath challenged thee.  Clau. 
Most sincerely.  Prin. 
What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit.  Enter Constable, Conrad, and Borachio. Clau. 
He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a man.  Prin. 
But soft you, let me be, pluck up my heart, and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled?  Const. 
Come you sir, if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance, nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.  Prin. 
How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one.  Clau. 
Hearken after their offence my Lord▪  Prin. 
Officers, what offence have these men done?  Const. 
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.  Prin. 
First I ask thee what they have done, thirdly I ask thee what's their offence, sixth and lastlie why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge.  Clau. 
Rightly reasoned, and in his own division, and by my troth there's one meaning well suited.  Prin. 
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?  Bor. 
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 Heroes garments, how you disgraced her when you should marry her: my villainy they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, then repeat over to my shame: the Lady is dead upon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.  Prin. 
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?  Clau. 
I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it.  Prin. 
But did my Brother set thee on to this?  Bor. 
Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.  Prin. 
He is composed and framed of treachery,  
And fled he is upon this villainy.  Clau. 
Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear  
In the rare semblance that I loved it first.  Const. 
Come, bring away the plaintiffs, by this time our Sexton hath reform Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget to specify when time & place shall serve, that I am an Ass.  Con. 2. 
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too.  Enter Leonato. Leon. 
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?  Bor. 
If you would know your wronger, look on me.  Leon. 
Art thou thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed mine innocent child?  Bor. 
Yea, even I alone.  Leo. 
No, not so villain, thou belieft 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.  Clau. 
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, ye sinned I not,  
But in mistaking.  Prin. 
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.  Leon. 
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 aught in sad invention,  
Hang her an epitaph upon her toomb,  
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.  Clau. 
O noble sir!  
Your over kindness doth wring tears from me,  
I do embrace your offer, and dispose  
For henceforth of poor Claudio.  Leon. 
To morrow than 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 packed in all this wrong,  
Hired to it by your brother.  Bor. 
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.  Const. 
Moreover sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offendor 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 he 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.  Leon. 
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.  Const. 
Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth, and I praise God for you.  Leon. 
There's for thy pains.  Const. 
God save the foundation.  Leon. 
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.  Const. 
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 departed, and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it: come neighbour.  Leon. 
Until to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.  Exeunt. Brot. 
Farewell my Lords, we look for you to morrow.  Prin. 
We will not fail.  Clau. 
To night i'll mourn with Hero:  Leon. 
Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.  Exeunt. Enter Benedick and Margaret. Ben. 
Pray thee sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.  Mar. 
Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beauty?  Bene. 
In so high a stile Margaret, that no man living shall come over it, for in most comely truth thou deservest it.  Mar. 
To have no man come over me, why, shall I always keep below stairs?  Bene. 
Thy wit is as quick as the greyhouds mouth, it catches.  Mar. 
And yours, as blunt as the Fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not.  Bene. 
A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I give thee the bucklers.  Mar. 
Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own.  Bene. 
If you use them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maids.  Mar. 
Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.  Exit Margarite. Ben. 
And therefore will come. 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 imploier of panders, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose name 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 rhyme, I have tried, I can find out no rhyme to Lady but baby, an innocent rhyme: for scorn, horn, a hard time: for school fool, a babbling time: very ominous end, no, I was not borne under a rhyming Planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms: Enter Beatrice. sweet Beatrice wouldst thou come when I called thee?  Beat. 
Yea Signior, and departed when you bid me.  Bene. 
O stay but till then.  Beat. 
Then, is spoken: far 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.  Bene. 
Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee.  Beat. 
Fowl words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome, therefore I will departed unkist.  Bene. 
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?  Beat. 
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?  Bene. 
Suffer love! a good epithet, I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.  Beat. 
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.  Bened. 
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.  Bea. 
It appears not in this confession, there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.  Bene. 
An old, an old instance Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours, if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the Bells ring, & the Widow weeps.  Beat. 
And how long is that think you?  Ben. 
Question, why an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum, therefore is it most expedient for the wife, 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 praise worthy, and now tell me, how doth your cousin?  Beat. 
Very ill.  Bene. 
And how do you?  Beat. 
Very ill too.  Enter Ursula. Bene. 
Serve God, love me, and mend, there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.  Urs. 
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 fled and gone: will you come presently?  Beat. 
Will you go hear this news Signior?  Bene. 
I will hue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes: and moreover, I will go with thee to thy Uncles.  Exeunt. Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or four with Tapers. Clau. 
Is this the monument of Leonato?  Lord. 
It is my Lord.  Epitaph. 
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,  
Life's in death with glorious fame.  
Hang thou there upon the tomb,  
Praising her when I am dumb.  Clau. 
Now music sound & 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' yaw and yield your dead,  
Till death be uttered,  
Heavenly, heavenly.   Lo. 
Now unto thy bones good night, yearly will I do this right.  Prin. 
Good morrow masters, put your Torches out,  
The wolves have preied, 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, far you well.  Clau. 
Good morrow masters, each his several way.  Prin. 
Come let us hence, and put on other weeds,  
And then to Leonatoes' we will go.  Clau. 
And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,  
Then this for whom we rendered up this woe.  Exeunt. Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Ursula, old man, friar, Hero. friar. 
Did I not tell you she was innocent?  Leo. 
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.  Old. 
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.  Bene. 
And so am I, being else by faith enforced  
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.  Leo. 
Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,  
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,  
And when I send for you, come hither masked:  
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.  Exeunt Ladies. Old. 
Which I will do with confirmed countenance.  Bene. 
friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.  friar. 
To do what Signior?  Bene. 
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.  Leo. 
That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true.  Bene. 
And I do with an eye of love require her.  Leo. 
The sight whereof I think you had from me,  
From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will?  Bened. 
Your answer sir is Enigmatical,  
But for my will, my will is, your good will  
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined,  
In the state of honourable marriage,  
In which (good Friar) I shall desire your help.  Leon. 
My heart is with your liking.  friar. 
And my help.  Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants. Prin. 
Good morrow to this fair assembly.  Leo. 
Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:  
We here attend you, are you yet determined,  
To day to marry with my brother's daughter?  Claud. 
I'll hold my mind were she an Ethiope.  Leo. 
Call her forth brother, here's the Friar ready.  Prin. 
Good morrow Benedike, why what's the matter?  
That you have such a February face,  
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness.  Claud. 
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.  Ben. 
Bull jove sir, had an amiable low,  
And some such strange bull leapt your father's Cow,  
A got a Calf in that same noble seat,  
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.  Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula. Cla. 
For this I own you: here comes other reckon.  
Which is the Lady I must seize upon?  Leo. 
This same is she, and I ●oe give you her.  Cla. 
Why thou she's mine, sweet let me see your face.  Leon. 
No that you shall not, till you take her hand,  
Before this Friar, and swear to marry her.  Clau. 
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,  
And when you loved, you were my other husband.  Clau. 
Another Hero?  Hero. 
Nothing certaine●.  
One Hero died, but I do live,  
And surely as I live, I am a maid.  Prin. 
The former Hero, Hero that is dead.  Leon. 
She died my Lord, but whiles her slander lived.  friar. 
All this amazement can I qualify,  
When after that the holy rites are ended,  
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:  
Mean time let wonder seem familiar,  
And to the chapel let us presently.  Ben. 
Soft and fair Friar, which is Beatrice?  Beat. 
I answer to that name, what is your will?  Bene. 
Do not you love me?  Beat. 
Why no, no more than reason.  Bene. 
Why then your Uncle, and the Prince, & Claudio, have been deceived, they swore you did.  Beat. 
Do not you love me?  Bene. 
Troth no, no more than reason.  Beat. 
Why then my Cousin Margaret and Ursula  
Are much deceived, for they did swear you did.  Bene. 
They swore you were almost sick for me.  Beat. 
They swore you were well-nigh dead for me.  Bene. 
'tis no matter, than you do not love me?  Beat. 
No truly, but in friendly recompense.  Leon. 
Come Cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.  Clau. 
And I'll be sworn upon't, that he love's her,  
For here's a paper written in his hand,  
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,  
Fashioned to Beatrice.  Hero. 
And here's another,  
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,  
Containing her affection unto Benedick.  Bene. 
A miracle, here's our own hands against our hearts: come I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity.  Beat. 
I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, & partly to save your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption.  Leon. 
Peace I will stop your mouth.  Prin. 
How dost thou Benedick the married man?  Bene. 
I'll tell thee what Prince: a College of witte-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 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.  Cla. 
I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgeled 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 exceeding narrowly to thee.  Bene. 
Come, come, we are friends, let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wife's heels.  Leon. 
we'll have dancing afterward.  Bene. 
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. Mes. Messen. 
My Lord, your brother john is ta'en in flight,  
And brought with armed men back to Messina.  Bene. 
Think not on him till to morrow, i'll device thee brave punishments for him: strike up Pipers.  Dance.  
FINIS.   

Love's Labour's lost.  

Actus primus.  Enter Ferdinand King of Navarre, Berowne, Longavill, and Dumane. Ferdinand. 
LEt Fame, that all hunt after in their lives,  
Live registered upon our brazen Tombs,  
And then grace us in the disgrace of death:  
when spite of cormorant devouring Time,  
Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy:  
That honour which shall bate his scythes 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 Achademe,  
Still and contemplative in living Art.  
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longavill,  
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 past, and now subscribe your names:  
That his own hand may strike his honour down,  
That violates the smallest branch herein:  
If you are armed to do, as sworn to do,  
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it to.  Longavill. 
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 the wits.  Dumane. 
My loving Lord, Dumane is mortified,  
The grosser manner of these world's delights,  
He throws upon the gross world's base slaves:  
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die,  
With all these living in Philosophy.  Berowne. 
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 enroled 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 enroled 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 enroled there.  
O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,  
Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleep.  Ferd. 
Your oath is past, to pass away from these.  Berow. 
Let me say no my Liege, and if you please,  
I only swore to study with your grace,  
And stay here in your Court for three years space.  Longa. 
You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest.  Berow. 
By yea and nay sir, than I swore in jest.  
What is the end of study, let me know?  Fer. 
Why that to know which else we should not know.  Ber. 
Things hid & bar (you mean) from common sense.  Ferd. 
I, that is studies godlike recompense.  Bero. 
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 fast 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 studies 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.  Ferd. 
These be the stops that hinder study quite,  
And train our intellects to vain delight.  Ber. 
Why? all delights are vain, and that most vain  
Which with pain purchased, doth inherit pain,  
As painfully to poare 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 searched 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,  
Then those that walk and wots not what they are.  
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame▪  
And every Godfather can give a name.  Fer. 
How well he's read, to reason against reading.  Dum. 
Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.  Lon. 
He weeds the corn, and still let's grow the weeding.  Ber. 
The Spring is near when green geese are a breeding.  Dum. 
How follows that?  Ber. 
Fit in his place and time.  Dum. 
In reason nothing.  Ber. 
Something than in rhyme.  Ferd. 
Berowne is like an envious sneaping Frost,  
That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.  Ber. 
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,  
Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled shows:  
But like of each thing that in season grows.  
So you to study now it is too late,  
That were to climb over the house to unlock the gate.  Fer. 
Well, fit you out: go home Berowne: adieu.  Ber. 
No my good Lord, I have sworn to stay with you.  
And though I have for barbarism spoke more,  
Then for that Angel knowledge you can say,  
Yet confident I'll keep what I have sworn,  
And bide the penance of each three year's day.  
Give me the paper, let me read the same,  
And to the strictest decrees I'll write my name.  Fer. 
How well this yielding rescues thee from shame.  Ber. 
Item. That no woman shall come within a mile of my Court.  
Hath this been proclaimed?  Lon. 
Four days ago.  Ber. 
Let's see the penalty.  
On pain of losing her tongue.  
Who devised this penalty?  Lon. 
Marry that did I.  Ber. 
Sweet Lord, and why?  Lon. 
To fright them hence with that dread penalty, A dangerous law against gentility. 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 shall possibly device.  Ber. 
This Article my Liege yourself must break,  
For well you know here comes is Embassy  
The French Kings 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 th' admired Princess hither.  Fer. 
What say you Lords?  
Why, this was quite forgot.  Ber. 
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.  Fer. 
We must of force dispense with this Decree,  
She must lie here on mere necessity.  Ber. 
Necessity will make us all forsworn  
Three thousand times within this three years space:  
For every man with his affects is borne,  
Not by might mastered, but by special grace.  
If I break faith, this word shall break for me,  
I am forsworn on mere necessity.  
So to the Laws at large I writ my name,  
And he that breaks them in the least degree,  
Stands in attainder of eternal shame.  
Suggestions are to others 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?  Fer. 
I 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, who the music of his own vain tongue,  
Doth ravish like enchanting harmony:  
A man of compliments 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.  Bero. 
Armado is a most illustrious wight,  
A man of fire, new words, fashions own Knight.  Lon. 
Costard the swain and he, shall be our sport,  
And so to study, three years is but short.  Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter. Const. 
Which is the Dukes own person.  Ber. 
This fellow, What wouldst?  Con. 
I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's Tharborough: But I would see his own person in flesh and blood.  Ber. 
This is he.  Con. 
Signior Arm, Arm commends you:  
there's villainy abroad, this letter will tell you more.  Clow. 
Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching me.  Fer. 
A letter from the magnificent Armado.  Ber. 
How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.  Lon. 
A high hope for a low heaven, God grant us patience.  Ber. 
To hear, or forbear hearing.  Lon. 
To hear meekly sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both.  Ber. 
Well sir, be it as the stile shall give us cause to climb in the merriness.  Clo. 
The matter is to me sir, as concerning jaquenetta.  
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.  Ber. 
In what manner?  Clo. 
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.  Ber. 
For the following sir.  Clo. 
As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right.  Fer. 
Will you hear this Letter with attention?  Ber. 
As we would hear an Oracle.  Clo. 
Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.  Ferdinand. 
GReat Deputy, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's God, and body's fostering patron:  Cost. 
Not a word of Costard yet.  Ferd. 
So it is.  Cost. 
It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true: but so.  Ferd. 
Peace,  Clow. 
Be to me, and every man that dares not fight.  Ferd. 
No words,  Clow. 
Of other men's secrets I beseech you.  Ferd. 
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 yclept, Thy Park. Then for the place Where? where I mean I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event that draweth from my snowwhite pen the ebon coloured Ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, suruayest, 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 Minow of thy mirth, (Clown. Me?) that unletered small knowing soul, (Clown Me?) that shallow vassal (Clow. Still me?) which as I remember, height Costard, (Clow. O me) sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaimed Edict and Continet, Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith:  Clo. 
With a Wench.  Ferd. 
With a child of our Grandmother E●e, 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, & estimation.  Anth. 
Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull.  Ferd. 
For jaquenetta (so is the weaker vessel called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swain, I keeper her as a vessel of thy Law's fury, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine in all compliments of devoted and heartburning heat of duty.  
Done Adriana de Armada.  Ber. 
This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.  Fer. 
I the best, for the worst. But sirrah, What say you to this?  Clo. 
Sir I confess the Wench.  Fer. 
Did you hear the Proclamation?  Clo. 
I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.  Fer. 
It was proclaimed a years imprisonment to be taken with a Wench.  Clow. 
I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a Damsel.  Fer. 
Well, it was proclaimed Damsel.  Clo. 
This was no Damsel neither sir, she was a Virgin.  Fer. 
It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin.  Clo. 
If it were, I deny her Virginity: I was taken with a Maid.  Fer. 
This Maid will not serve your turn sir.  Clo. 
This Maid will serve my turn sir.  Kin. 
Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall fast a Week with Bran and water.  Clo. 
I had rather pray a Month with Mutton and Porridge.  Kin. 
And Don Armado shall be your keeper.  
My Lord Berowne, see him delivered over,  
And go we Lords to put in practice that,  
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.  Bero. 
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,  
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.  
Sirrah, come on.  Clo. 
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 until then sit down sorrow.  Exit. Enter Armado and Moth his Page. Arma. 
Boy, What sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?  Boy. 
A great sign sir, that he will look sad.  Brag. 
Why? sadness is one and the selfsame thing dear imp.  Boy. 
No no, O Lord sir no.  Brag. 
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy my tender Iwenall?  Boy. 
By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signeur.  Brag. 
Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur?  Boy. 
Why tender Iwenall? Why tender Iwenall?  Brag. 
I spoke it tender Iwenall, as a congruent apathaton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.  Boy. 
And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough.  Brag. 
Pretty and apt.  Boy. 
How mean you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty?  Brag. 
Thou pretty because little.  Boy. 
Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt?  Brag 
And therefore apt, because quick.  Boy. 
Speak you this in my praise Master?  Brag. 
In thy condign praise.  Boy. 
I will praise an Eel with the same praise.  Brag. 
What? that an Eel is ingenuous.  Boy. 
That an Eel is quick.  Brag. 
I do say thou art quick in answers. Thou heat'st my blood.  Boy. 
I am answered sir.  Brag. 
I love not to be crossed.  Boy. 
He speaks the mere contrary, crosses love not him.  Br. 
I have promised to study iij. years with the Duke.  Boy. 
You may do it in an hour sir.  Brag. 
Impossible.  Boy. 
How many is one thrice told?  Bra. 
I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster.  Boy. 
You are a gentleman and a gamester fir.  Brag. 
I confess both, they are both the varnish of a complete man.  Boy. 
Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deus-ace amounts to.  Brag. 
It doth amount to one more than two.  Boy. 
Which the base vulgar call three.  Br. 
True.  Boy. 
Why sir is this such a piece of study? Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you.  Brag. 
A most fine Figure.  Boy. 
To prove you a cipher.  Brag. 
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 n● devised curtsy. I think scorn to sigh, me thinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men have been in love?  Boy. 
Hercules' Master.  Brag. 
Most sweet Hercules: more authority dear Boy, name more; and sweet my child let them be men of good repute and carriage.  Boy. 
Samson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for he carried the Towne-gates on his back like a Porter: and he was in love.  Brag. 
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 sampson's love my dear Moth?  Boy. 
A Woman, Master.  Brag. 
Of what complexion?  Boy. 
Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.  Brag. 
Tell me precisely of what complexion?  Boy. 
Of the sea-water Greene sir.  Brag. 
Is that one of the four complexions?  Boy. 
As I have read sir, and the best of them too.  Brag. 
Greene 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.  Boy. 
It was so sir, for she had a green wit.  Brag. 
My Love is most immaculate white and red.  Boy. 
Most immaculate thoughts Master, are masked under such colours.  Brag. 
Define, define, well educated infant.  Boy. 
My father's wit, and my mother's tongue assist me.  Brag. 
Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical.  Boy. 
If she be made of white and red,  
Her faults will ne'er be known:  
For blush-in 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.  Brag. 
Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Beggar?  Boy. 
The world was very guilty of such a Ballet 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.  Brag. 
I will have that subject newly writ over, 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.  Boy. 
To be whipped: and yet a better love than my Master.  Brag. 
Sing Boy, my spirit grows heavy in iove.  Boy. 
And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.  Brag. 
I say sing.  Boy. 
Forbear till this company be past.  Enter Clown, Constable, and Wench. Const. 
Sir, the Duke's pleasure, is that you keep Costard safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance, but he must fast three days a week: for this Damsel, I must keep her at the Park, she is aloud for the Day-woman. Far you well.  Exit. Brag. 
I do betray myself with blushing: Maid.  Maid. 
Man.  Brag. 
I will visit thee at the Lodge.  Maid. 
That's here by.  Brag. 
I know where it is situate.  Mai. 
Lord how wise you are!  Brag. 
I will tell thee wonders.  Ma. 
With what face?  Brag. 
I love thee.  Mai. 
So I heard you say.  Brag. 
And so farewell.  Mai. 
Fair weather after you.  Clo. 
Come jaquenetta, away.  Exeunt. Brag. 
Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.  Clo. 
Well sir, I hope when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.  Brag. 
Thou shalt be heavily punished.  Clo. 
I am more bound to you then your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.  Clo. 
Take away this villain, shut him up.  Boy. 
Come you transgressing slave, away.  Clow. 
Let me not be penned up sir, I will fast being lose.  Boy. 
No sir, that were fast and lose: thou shalt to prison.  Clow. 
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.  Boy. 
What shall some see?  Clow. 
Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in then words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet.  Exit. Brag. 
I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoe (which is base) guided by her foot (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which jam 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 Samson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's But shaft is too hard for Hercules' Club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniards 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, writ Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.  Exit. 
Finis Actus Primus.   

Actus Secunda.  Enter the Princess of France, with three attending Ladies, and three Lords. 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.  Queen. 
Good L. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,  
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:  
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,  
Not uttered by base sale of chapmen's tongues:  
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth,  
Then you much wiling to be counted wise,  
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.  
But now to task the tasker, good Boyet,  Prin. 
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.  Boy. 
Proud of employment, willingly I go.  Exit. Prin. 
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so:  
Who are the Votaries my loving Lords, that are vow-fellowes with this virtuous Duke?  Lor. 
Longavill is one.  Princ. 
Know you the man?  1 Lady. 
I know him Madame at a marriage feast,  
Between L. Perigort and the beauteous heir  
Of jaques Fauconbridge solemnised.  
In Normandy saw I this Longavill,  
A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed:  
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 will,  
It should none spare that come within his power.  Prin. 
Some merry mocking Lord belike, is't so?  Lad. 1. 
They say so most, that most his humours know.  Prin. 
Such short lived wits do whither as they grow.  
Who are the rest?  2. Lad. 
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 she had no wit.  
I saw him at the Duke Alansoes' once,  
And much too little of that good I saw,  
Is my report to his great worthiness.  Rossa. 
Another of these Students at that time,  
Was there with him, as I have heard a truth.  
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,  
Within the limit of becoming mirth,  
I never spent an hours 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 (conceits expositor)  
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,  
That aged ears play trevant at his tales,  
And younger hear are quite ravished.  
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.  Prin. 
God bless my Ladies, are they all in love?  
That every one her own hath garnished,  
With such bedecking ornaments of praise.  Ma. 
here comes Boyet.  Enter Boyet. Prin. 
Now, what admittance Lord?  Boyet. 
Navarre had notice of your fair approach,  
And he and his competitors in oath,  
Were all addressed to meet you gentle Lady  
Before I came: Marry thus much I have learned,  
He rather means to lodge you in the field,  
Like one that comes here to besiege his Court,  
Then seek a dispensation for his oath:  
To let you enter his unpeopled house.  Enter Navarre, Longavill, Dumain, and Berowne. 
here comes Navar.  Nau. 
Fair Princess, welcome to the Court of Navar.  Prin. 
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.  Nau. 
You shall be welcome Madam to my Court.  Prin. 
I will be welcome then, Conduct me thither.  Nau. 
Hear me dear Lady, I have sworn an oath.  Prin. 
Our Lady help my Lord, he'll be forsworn.  Nau. 
Not for the world fair Madam, by my will.  Prin. 
Why, will shall break it will, and nothing else.  Nau. 
Your Ladyship is ignorant what it is.  Prin. 
Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise,  
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.  
I hear your grace hath sworn out Houseekeeping:  
'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.  Nau. 
Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.  Prin. 
You will the sooner that I were away,  
For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.  Berow. 
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?  Rosa. 
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?  Ber. 
I know you did.  Rosa. 
How needless was it then to ask the question?  Ber. 
You must not be so quick.  Rosa. 
'Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.  Ber. 
Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tyre.  Rosa. 
Not till it leave the Rider in the mire.  Ber. 
What time a day?  Rosa. 
The hour that fools should ask.  Ber. 
Now fair befall your mask.  Rosa. 
Fair fall the face it covers.  Ber. 
And send you many lovers.  Rosa. 
Amen, so you be none.  Ber. 
Nay then will I be gone.  Kin. 
Madame, your father here doth intimate,  
The payment of a hundred thousand Crowns,  
Being but th' 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 moneys 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 repay,  
An hundred thousand Crowns, and not demands  
One payment of a hundred thousand Crowns,  
To have his title live in Aquitaine.  
Which we much rather had departed withal,  
And have the money by our father lent,  
Then Aquitane, so gelded as it is.  
Dear Princess, were not his requests so fare  
From reasons yielding, your fair self should make  
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast,  
And go well satisfied to France again.  Prin. 
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.  Kin. 
I do protest I never heard of it,  
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,  
Or yield up Aquitaine.  Prin. 
We arrest your word:  
Boyet, you can produce acquittances  
For such a sum, from special Officers,  
Of Charles his Father.  Kin. 
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.  Kin. 
It shall suffice me; at which interview,  
All liberal reason would I yield unto:  
Mean time, 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 farther harbour in my house:  
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell,  
To morrow we shall visit you again.  Prin. 
Sweet health & fair desires consort your grace.  Kin. 
Thy own wish wish I thee, in every place.  Exit. Boy. 
Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.  La. Ro. 
Pray you do my commendations,  
I would be glad to see it.  Boy. 
I would you heard it groan.  La. Ro. 
Is the soul sick?.  Boy. 
Sick at the heart.  La. Ro. 
Alack, let it blood.  Boy. 
Would that do it good?  La. Ro. 
My Physic says I.  Boy. 
Will you pricked with your eye.  La. Ro. 
No point, with my knife.  Boy. 
Now God save thy life.  La. Ro. 
And yours from long living.  Ber. 
I cannot stay thanksgiving.  Exit. Enter Dumane. Dum. 
Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?  Boy. 
The heir of Alencon, Rosalin her name.  Dum. 
A gallant Lady, monsieur far you well.  Long. 
I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?  Boy. 
A woman sometimes, if you saw her in the light.  Long. 
Perchance light in the light: I desire her name.  Boy. 
She hath but one for herself,  
To desire that were a shame.  Long. 
Pray you sir, whose daughter?  Boy. 
Her Mothers, I have heard.  Long. 
God's blessing a your beard.  Boy. 
Good sir be not offended,  
She is an heir of Faulconbridge.  Long. 
Nay, my choler is ended:  
She is a most sweet Lady.  Exit. Long. Boy. 
Not unlike sir, that may be.  Enter Beroune. Ber. 
What's her name in the cap.  Boy. 
Katherine by good hap.  Ber. 
Is she wedded, or no.  Boy. 
To her will sir, or so.  Ber. 
You are welcome sir, adieu.  Boy. 
Far well to me sir, and welcome to you.  Exit. La. Ma. 
That last is Beroune, the merry madcap Lord.  
Not a word with him, but a jest.  Boy. 
And every jest but a word.  Pri. 
It was well done of you to take him at his word.  Boy. 
I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.  La. Ma. 
Two hot Sheep's marry:  
And wherefore not Ships?  Boy. 
No Sheep (sweet Lamb) unless we feed on your lips.  La. 
You Sheep & I pasture: shall that finish the jest?  Boy. 
So you grant pasture for me.  La. 
Not so gentle beast.  
My lips are no Common, though several they be.  Bo. 
Belonging to whom?  La. 
To my fortunes and me.  Prin. 
Good wits will be jangling, but gentles agree.  
This civil war of wits were much better used  
On Navarre and his bookmen, for here 'tis abused.  Bo. 
If my observation (which very seldom lies  
By the hearts still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes)  
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.  Prin. 
With what?  Bo. 
With that which we Lovers entitle affected.  Prin. 
Your reason.  Bo. 
Why all his behaviours do make their retire,  
To the court of his eye, peeping through desire.  
His hart like an Agate with your print impressed,  
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed.  
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:  
Me thought all his senses were locked in his eye,  
As jewels in Crystal for some Prince to buy.  
Who tendering their own worth from whence they were glast,  
Did point out to buy them along as you past.  
His faces own margin did coat such amazes,  
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.  
I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,  
And you give him for my sake, but one loving Kiss.  Prin. 
Come to our Pavilion, Boyet is disposed.  Bro. 
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.  Lad. Ro. 
Thou art an old Love-monger, and speakest skilfully.  Lad. Ma. 
He is Cupid's Grandfather, and learns news of him.  Lad. 2. 
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.  Boy. 
Do you hear my mad wenches?  La. 1. 
No.  Boy. 
What then, do you see?  Lad. 2. 
I, our way to be gone.  Boy. 
You are too hard for me.  Exeunt omnes.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Broggart and Boy. Song. Bra. 
Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing.  Boy. 
Concolinel.  Brag. 
Sweet Air, go tenderness of years: take this Key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinatly hither: I must employ him in a letter to my Love..  Boy. 
Will you win your love with a French brawl?  Bra. 
How meanest thou, brawling in French?  Boy. 
No my complete master, but to jig off a tune at the tongues end, canary to it with the feet, humour it with turning up your eye: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throat: if you swallowed love with singing, love sometime through: 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 thinbellie 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 compliments, these are humours, these betray nice wenches that would be betrayed without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these?  Brag. 
How hast thou purchased this experience?  Boy. 
By my pen of observation.  Brag. 
But O, but O.  Boy. 
The Hobby-horse is forgot.  Bra. 
Callest thou my love Hobby-horse.  Boy. 
No Master, the Hobby-horse is but a Colt, and and your Love perhaps, a Hackney:  
But have you forgot your Love?  Brag. 
Almost I had.  Boy. 
Negligent student, learn her by heart.  Brag. 
By heart, and in heart Boy.  Boy. 
And out of heart Master: all those three I will prove.  Brag. 
What wilt thou prove?  Boy. 
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.  Brag. 
I am all these three.  Boy. 
And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.  Brag. 
Fetch hither the Swain, he must carry me a letter.  Boy. 
A message well simpathised, a Horse to be ambassador for an Ass.  Brag. 
Ha', ha', What sayest thou?  Boy. 
Marry sir, you must send the Ass upon the Horse for he is very slow gated: but I go.  Brag. 
The way is but short, away.  Boy. 
As swift as Led sir.  Brag. 
Thy meaning pretty ingenious, is not Led a mettle heavy, dull, and slow?  Boy. 
Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no.  Brad. 
I say Lead is slow.  Boy. 
You are too swift sir to say so.  
Is that Led slow which is fired from a Gun?  Brag. 
Sweet smoke of Rhetoric,  
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:  
I shoot thee at the Swain.  Boy. 
Thump then, and I flee.  Bra. 
A most acute iwenall, 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 returned.  Enter Page and Clown. Pag. 
A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin.  Ar. 
Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Envoy begin.  Clo. 
No enigma, no riddle, no envoy, no salve, in thee male sir. Or sir, Plantain, a plain Plantain: no envoy, no envoy, no Salve sir, but a Plantain.  Ar. 
By virtue thou inforcest 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 envoy, and the word envoy for a salve?  Pag. 
Do the wise think them other, is not envoy a salve?  Ar. 
No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain,  
Some obscure precedence that hath to fore been fain.  
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my envoy.  
The Fox, the Ape, and the Humblebee,  
Were still at odds, being but three.  Arm. 
Until the Goose came out of door,  
Staying the odds by adding four.  Pag. 
A good Envoy, ending in the Goose: would you desire more?  Clo. 
The Boy hath sold him a bargain, a Goose, that's flat  
Sir, your pennyworth is good, and your Goose be fat▪  
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and lose:  
Let me see a fat Envoy, I that's a fat Goose.  Ar. 
Come hither, come hither:  
How did this argument begin?  Boy. 
By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.  
Then called you for the Envoy.  Clow. 
True, and I for a Plantain:  
Thus came your argument in:  
Then the Boys fat Envoy, the Goose that you bought,  
And he ended the market.  Ar. 
But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in a shin?  Pag. 
I will tell you sensibly.  Clow. 
Thou hast no feeling of it Moth,  
I will speak that Envoy.  
I Costard running out, that was safely within,  
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.  Arm. 
We will talk no more of this matter.  Clow. 
Till there be more matter in the shin.  Arm. 
Sirrah Costard, I will infranchise thee.  Clow. 
O, marry me to one Francis, I smell some Envoy, some Goose in this.  Arm. 
By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained, captivated, bound.  Clow. 
True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me lose.  Arm. 
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Bear this significant to the country Maid jaquenetta: there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.  Pag. 
Like the sequel I  
Signeur Costard adieu.  Exit. Clow. 
My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my incony jew: 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 yncle? i.d. no, I'll give you a remuneration: Why? It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name than a French-crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.  Enter Berowne. Ber. 
O my good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.  Clow. 
Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?  Ber. 
What is a remuneration?  Cost. 
Marry sir, half penny farthing.  Ber. 
O, Why then three farthings worth of Silk.  Cost. 
I thank your worship, God be wy you.  Ber. 
O stay slave, I must employ thee:  
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,  
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.  Clow. 
When would you have it done sir?  Ber. 
O this afternoon.  Clo. 
Well, I will do it sir: Far you well.  Ber. 
O thou knowest not what it is.  Clo. 
I shall know sir, when I have done it.  Ber. 
Why villain thou must know first.  Clo. 
I will come to your worship to morrow morning.  Ber. 
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, than they name her name,  
And Rosaline they call her, ask for her:  
And to her white hand see thou do commend  
This sealed up counsel. there's thy guerdon: go.  Clo. 
Guerdon, O sweet guerdon, better than remuneration, a levenpence-farthing better: most sweet guerdon. I will do it sir in print: guerdon, remuneration.  Exit. Ber. 
O, 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,  
Then whom no mortal so magnificent.  
This wimpled, whining, purblind wayward Boy,  
This signior junios' giant drawfe, don Cupid,  
Regent of Love-rimes, Lord of folded arms,  
Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans:  
Liege of all loiterers and male contents:  
Dread Prince of Plackets, King of Codpieces.  
Sole Emperator and great general  
Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)  
And I to be a Corporal of his field,  
And wear his colours like a Tumblers hoop.  
What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife,  
A woman that is like a german Cloak,  
Still a repairing: ever out of frame,  
And never going a right, being a Watch:  
But being watched, 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 whitly wanton, with a velvet brow.  
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes.  
I, 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, writ, sigh, pray, shoe, groan,  
Some men must love my Lady, and some lone.   

Actus Quartus.  Enter the Princess, a Forester, her Ladies, and her Lords. Qu. 
Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard,  
Against the steep uprising of the hill?  Boy. 
I know not, but I think it was not he.  Qu. 
Who ere a was, a showed 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?  For. 
Hereby upon the edge of yonder Coppice,  
A Stand where you may make the fairest shoot.  Qu. 
I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,  
And thereupon thou speakest the fairest shoot.  For. 
Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so.  Qu. 
What, what? First praise me, & then again say no.  
O short lived pride. Not fair? alack for woe.  For. 
Yes Madam fair.  Qu. 
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.  For. 
Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.  Qu. 
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, than 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 hart.  
As I for praise alone now seek to spill  
The poor Deers blood, that my heart means no ill.  Boy. 
Do not cursed wives hold that selfe-soveraigntie  
Only for praise sake, when they strive to be  
Lords o'er their Lords?  Qu. 
Only for praise and praise we may afford,  
To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.  Enter Clown. Boy. 
Here comes a member of the commonwealth.  Clo. 
God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head Lady?  Qu. 
Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that have no heads.  Clo. 
Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?  Qu. 
The thickest, and the tallest.  Clo. 
The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth.  
And your waste Mistress, were as slender as my wit,  
One a these Maid's girdles for your waste should be fit.  
Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here?  Qu. 
What's your will sir? What's your will?  Clo. 
I have a Letter from monsieur Berowne,  
To one Lady Rosaline.  Qu. 
O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.  
Stand a side 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.  Qu. 
We will read it, I swear.  
Break the neck of the Wax, and every one give ear.  Boyet reads. 
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 then 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; videliset, He came, See, and overcame: he came one; see, two; covercame 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: the captive is enriched: On whose side? the Beggars. The catastrophe is a Nuptial: on whose side? the Kings: 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 Adriana de Armatho.  
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.  Qu. 
What plume of feathers is he that indicted this Letter? What vein? What Weathercock? Did you ever hear better?  Boy. 
I am much deceived, but I remember the stile.  Qu. 
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.  Boy. 
This Armando is a Spaniard that keeps here in court  
A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport  
To the Prince and his Booke-mates.  Qu. 
Thou fellow, a word.  
Who gave thee this Letter?  Clow. 
I told you, my Lord.  Qu. 
To whom shouldst thou give it?  Clo. 
From my Lord to my Lady.  Qu. 
From which Lord, to which Lady?  Clo. 
From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,  
To a Lady of France, that he called Rosaline.  Qu. 
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.  
Here sweet, put up this, 'twill be thine another day.  Exeunt. Boy. 
Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?  Rosa. 
Shall I teach you to know.  Boy. 
I my continent of beauty.  Rosa. 
Why she that bears the Bow. Finely put off.  Boy. 
My Lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry,  
Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.  
Finely put on.  Rosa. 
Well then, I am the shooter.  Boy. 
And who is your Dear?  Rosa. 
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.  Rosa. 
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin 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.  Rosa. 
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,  
Thou canst not hit it my good man.  Boy. 
I cannot, cannot, cannot:  
And I cannot, another can.  Exit. Clo. 
By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it.  Mar. 
A mark marvelous well shot, for they both did hit.  Boy. 
A mark, O mark but that mark: a mark says my Lady.  
Let the mark have a prick in't, to meat at, if it may be.  Mar. 
Wide o' th' bow hand. i'faith your hand is out.  Clo. 
Indeed of must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.  Boy. 
And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.  Clo. 
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the is in.  Ma. 
Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul,  Clo. 
She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to bowl.  Boy. 
I fear too much rubbing: good night my good Owl.  Clo. 
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 inconie vulgar wit,  
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.  
Armathor o'th' to the 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 at other side, that handful of wit,  
Ah heavens, it is most pathetical nit.  
Sowla, sowla.  Exeunt. Shoot within. Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel. Nat. 
Very reverend sport truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience.  Ped. 
The Dear was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as a Pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Celo the sky; the welkin the heaven, and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soil, the land, the earth.  Curate. Nath. 
Truly M. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly varied like a scholar at the least: but sir I assure ye, it was a Buck of the first head.  Hol. 
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.  Dul. 
'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket.  Hol. 
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 Dear.  Dul. 
I said the Dear was not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket.  Hol. 
Twice sod simplicity, his coctus, O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look.  Nath. 
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 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.  Dul. 
You two are bookmen: Can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?  Hol. 
Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull.  Dul. 
What is dictynna?  Nath. 
A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moon.  Hol. 
The Moon was a month old when Adam was no more.  
And wrought not to five-weekes when he came to fivescore.  
Th' allusion holds in the Exchange.  Dul. 
'Tis true indeed, the Collusion holds in the Exchange.  Hol. 
God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds in the Exchange.  Dul. 
And I say the polusion 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.  Hol. 
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal Epytaph on the death of the Dear, and to humour the ignorant called the Dear, the Princess killed a Pricket.  Nath. 
Perge, good M. Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.  Hol. 
I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.  
The prayfull Princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing Pricket,  
Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.  
The Dogs did yell, put ell to Sore, than Sorrel jumps from thicket:  
Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorrel, the people fall a hooting.  
If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore, makes fifty sores O sorel:  
Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.  Nath. 
A rare talon.  Dul. 
If a talon be a claw, look how he claws him with a talon.  Nath. 
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 primater, 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.  Hol. 
Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their Sons are well tutored by you, and their Daughter's profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.  Nath. 
Mehercle, If their Sons be ingennous, they shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soul Feminine saluteth us.  Enter jaquenetta and the Clown. jaqu. 
God give you good morrow M. Person.  Nath. 
Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should be pierced, Which is the one?  Clo. 
Marry M. Schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.  Nath. 
Of piercing a Hogshead, a good lustre of conceit in a curph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearl enough for a Swine: 'tis pretty, it is well.  jaqu. 
Good Master Parson be so good as read me this Letter, it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it.  Nath. 
Facile procor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub umbraruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te unde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuam, old Mantuan. Who understandeth 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.  Hol. 
I sir, and very learned.  Nath. 
Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse, Lege domine.  
If Love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?  
Ah never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed.  
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove.  
Those thoughts to me were Okes, to thee like Osiers bowed.  
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 bend, is music, and sweet fire.  
Celestial as thou art, Oh pardon love this wrong,  
That sings heaven's praise, with such an earthly tongue.  Ped. 
You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the accent. Let me superuise the cangenet.  Nath. 
Here are only numbers ratified, but for the elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesy caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention imitarie 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?  jaq. 
I sir from one monsieur Berowne, one of the strange Queen's Lords.  Nath. 
I will overglance the superscript.  To the snowwhite hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. 
I will look again on the intellect of the Letter, for the nomination of the party written to the person written unto.  Your Ladyships in all desired employment, Berowne. Per. 
Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go my sweet, deliver this Paper into the hand of the King, it may concern much: stay not thy compliment, I forgive thy duty, adieu.  Maid. 
Good Costard go with me:  
Sir God save your life.  Cost. 
Have with thee my girl.  Exit. Hol. 
Sir you have done this in the fear of God very religiously: and as a certain Father saith  Ped. 
Sir tell not me of the Father, I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the Verses, Did they please you sir Nathaniel?  Nath. 
Marvelous well for the pen.  Peda. 
I do dine to day at the fathers of a certain Pupil of mine, where if (being 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 bien vonuto, where I will prove those Verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of Poetry, Wit, nor Invention. I beseech your Society.  Nat. 
And thank you to: for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life.  Peda. 
And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.  
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. Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone. Bero. 
The King he is hunting the Dear,  
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 Aiax, it kills sheep, it kills me, I a sheep: Well proved again a 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 mallicholie: and here is part of my Rhyme, and here my mallicholie. 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.  He stands aside. The King entereth. Kin. 
Ay me!  Ber. 
Shot by heaven: proceed sweet Cupid, thou hast thumped him with thy Bird-bolt under the left pap: in faith secrets.  King. 
So sweet a kiss the golden Sun gives not,  
To those fresh morning drops upon the Rose,  
As thy eye beams, when their fresh raise 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 ride 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, than thou wilt keep  
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.  
O Queen of Queens, how fare 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?  Enter Longavile. The King steps aside. 
What Longavill, and reading: listen ear.  Ber. 
Now in thy likeness, one more fool appear.  Long. 
Ay me, I am forsworn.  Ber. 
Why he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.  Long. 
In love I hope, sweet fellowship in shame.  Ber. 
One drunkard love's another of the name.  Lon. 
Am I the first that have been perjured so?  Ber. 
I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,  
Thou makest the triumvirate, the corner cap of society,  
The shape of Loves Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.  Lon. 
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.  Ber. 
O Rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose,  
Disfigure not his Shop.  Lon. 
This same shall go.  He reads the Sonnet. 
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 gained, 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?  Ber. 
This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity.  
A green Goose, a Coddesse, pure pure Idolatry.  
God amend us, God amend, we are much out o' th' way.  Enter Dumaine. Lon. 
By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay.  Bero. 
All hid, all hid, an old infant play,  
Like a demie God, here sit I in the sky,  
And wretched fool's secrets heedfully ore-eye.  
More Sacks to the mill. O heavens I have my wish,  
Dumain transformed, four Woodcocks in a dish.  Dum. 
O most divine Kate.  Bero. 
O most profane coxcomb.  Dum. 
By heaven the wonder of a mortal eye.  Bero. 
By earth she is not, corporal, there you lie.  Dum. 
Her Amber hairs for foul hath amber coted.  Ber. 
An Amber coloured Raven was well noted.  Dum. 
As upright as the Cedar.  Ber. 
Stoop I say her shoulder is with-child.  Dum. 
As fair as day.  Ber. 
I as some days, but then no sun must shine.  Dum. 
O that I had my wish?  Lon. 
And I had mine.  Kin. 
And mine too good Lord.  Ber. 
Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?  Dum. 
I would forget her, but a Fever she  
Reigns in my blood, and will remembered be.  Ber. 
A Fever in your blood, why then incision  
Would let her out in Saucers, sweet misprision.  Dum. 
Once more I'll read the Ode that I have writ.  Ber. 
Once more I'll mark how Love can vary Wit.  Dumane reads his Sonnet. 
On a day, alack the day:  
Love, whose Month is every 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,  
Near to pluck thee from thy throne:  
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 love would swear,  
juno but an Aethiop were,  
And deny himself for jove.  
Turning mortal for thy Love..  
This will I send, and something else more plain.  
That shall express my truelove's fasting pain.  
O would the King, Berowne and Longavill,  
Were Lovers too, ill to example ill,  
Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note:  
For none offend, where all alike do dote.  Lon. 
Dumaine, thy Love is fare from charity,  
That in Love's grief desir'st society:  
You may look pale, but I should blush I know,  
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.  Kin. 
Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such,  
You chide at him, offending twice as much.  
You do not love Maria? Longavile,  
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 marked 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!  
On her hairs were Gold, Crystal the others eyes.  
You would for Paradise break Faith and troth,  
And jove for your Love would infringe an oath.  
What will Berowne say when that he shall hear  
Faith 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.  Bero. 
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.  
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 couches 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 Sonnetting.  
But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not  
All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?  
You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:  
But I a Beam do find in each of three.  
O what a Scene of fool'ry 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 tuning a jygge?  
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 Longavill, where lies thy pain?  
And where my Liedges? all about the breast:  
A Candle hoa!  Kin. 
Too bitter is thy jest.  
Are we betrayed thus to thy overview?  Ber. 
Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.  
I that am honest, I that hold it sin  
To break the vow I am engaged in.  
I am betrayed by keeping company  
With men, like men of inconstancy.  
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?  
Or groan for joane? 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 gate, a state, a brow, a breast, a waste, a leg, a limb.  Kin. 
Soft, Whither away so fast?  
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so.  Ber. 
I post from Love, good Lover let me go.  Enter jaquenetta and Clowne. jaqu. 
God bless the King.  Kin. 
What Present hast thou there?  Clo. 
Some certain treason.  Kin. 
What makes treason here?  Clo. 
Nay it makes nothing sir.  Kin. 
If it mar nothing neither,  
The treason and you go in peace away together.  jaqu. 
I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,  
Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said.  Kin. 
Berowne, read it over.  He reads the Letter. Kin. 
Where hadst thou it?  jaqu. 
Of Costard.  King. 
Where hadst thou it?  Cost. 
Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.  Kin. 
How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?  Ber. 
A toy my Liege, a toy: your grace needs not fear it.  Long. 
It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.  Dum. 
It is Berowns writing, and here is his name.  Ber. 
Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to do me shame.  
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confess, I confess.  Kin. 
What?  Ber. 
That you three fools, lacked me fool, to make up the mess.  
He, he, and you: and you my Liege, and I,  
Are pickepurses in Love, and we deserve to die.  
O dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.  Dum. 
Now the number is even.  Berow. 
True true, we are four: will these Turtles be gone?  Kin. 
Hence sirs, away.  Clo. 
Walk aside the true folk, & let the traitors stay.  Ber. 
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 will show his face:  
Young blood doth not obey an old decree.  
We cannot cross the cause why we are borne:  
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn.  King. 
What, did these rend lines show some love of thine?  Ber. 
Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,  
That (like a rude and savage man of Ind.)  
At the first opening of the gorgeous East,  
Bows not his vassal head, and strooken 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?  Kin. 
What zeal, what fury, hath inspired thee now?  
My Love (her Mistress) is a gracious Moon,  
She (an attending Star) scarce seen a light.  Ber. 
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.  
O, but for my Love, day would turn to night,  
Of all complexions the culled 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 cellar's praise belongs:  
She passes praise, then praise too short doth blot.  
A withered Hermit, fivescore winters worn,  
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:  
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,  
And gives the Crutch the Cradle's infancy.  
O 'tis the Sun that maketh all things shine.  King. 
By heaven, thy Love is black as Ebony.  Berow. 
Is Ebony like her? O word 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.  Kin. 
O paradox, Black is the badge of hell,  
The hue of dungeons, and the School of night:  
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.  Ber. 
Devil's soon tempt resembling spirits of light.  
O if in black my Lady's brows be decked,  
It mourns, that painting usurping hair  
Should ravish doters with a false aspect:  
And therefore is she borne 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.  Dum. 
To look like her are Chimney-sweepers black.  Lon. 
And since her time, are Colliers counted bright.  King. 
And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crack.  Dum. 
Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light.  Ber. 
Your mistresses dare never come in rain,  
For fear their colours should be washed away.  Kin. 
'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plain,  
I'll find a fairer face not washed to day.  Ber. 
I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.  Kin. 
No Devil will fright thee then so much as she.  Duma. 
I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.  Lou. 
Look, here's thy love, my foot and her face see.  Ber. 
O if the streets were paved with thine eyes,  
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.  Duma. 
O vile, then as she goes what upward lies?  
The street should see as she walked over head.  Kin. 
But what of this, are we not all in love?  Ber. 
O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn.  Kin. 
Then leave this chat, & good Berown now prove  
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.  Dum. 
I marry there, some flattery for this evil.  Long. 
O some authority how to proceed,  
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.  Dum. 
Some salve for perjury.  Ber. 
O 'tis more than need.  
Have at you then affections men at arms,  
Consider what you first did swear unto:  
To fast, to study, and to see no woman:  
Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth.  
Say, Can you fast? your stomaches are too young:  
And abstinence engenders maladies.  
And where that you have vowed to study (Lords)  
In that each of you have forsworn his Book  
Can you still dream and poor, and thereon look.  
For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,  
Have found the ground of studies excellence,  
Without the beauty of a woman's face;  
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive,  
They are the Ground, the Books, the Achadems,  
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 sinnowy 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 Lady's eyes,  
With ourselves.  
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 enriched you with:  
Other slow Arts entirely keep the brain:  
And therefore finding barren practizers,  
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil.  
But Love first learned in a Lady's eyes,  
Life's not alone emured 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 stopped.  
Love's feeling is more soft and sensible,  
Then are the tender horns of Cockled Snails.  
Love's tongue proves dainty, Bacchus gross in taste,  
For Valour, is not Love a Hercules?  
Still climbing trees in the Hesporides.  
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,  
Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.  
Never durst Poet touch a pen to write,  
Until his Ink were tempered with Love's sighs:  
O than 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 Achademes,  
That show, contain, and nourish all the world.  
Else none at all in aught 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 love's all men.  
Or for men's sake, the author of these Women:  
Or women's sake, by whom we men are Men.  
Let's 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 fulfils the Law:  
And who can sever love from Charity.  Kin. 
Saint Cupid then, and Soldiers to the field.  Ber. 
Advance your standards, & upon them Lords.  
Pell, mell, down with them: but be first advised,  
In conflict that you get the Sun of them.  Long. 
Now to plain dealing, Lay these glozes by,  
Shall we resolve to woe these girls of France?  Kin. 
And win them too, therefore let us device,  
Some entertainment for them in their Tents.  Ber. 
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.  Kin. 
Away, away, no time shall be omitted,  
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.  Ber. 
Alone, alone sowed Cockle, reaped 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.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull. Pedant. 
Satis quid sufficit.  Curate. 
I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner have been sharp & sententious: pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudence, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy: I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the Kings, who is entitled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho.  Ped. 
Novi hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory: his tongue filled, his eye ambitious, his gate majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinat, as I may call it.  Curate. 
A most singular and choice Epithat,  Draw out his Table-book. Peda. 
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity, finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasims, such insociable and point device companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speak doubt fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe: half, haufe: neighbour vocatur neighbour; neigh abreviated ne: this is abominable, which he would call abominable: it insinuateth me of infamy: ne inteligis domine, to make frantic, lunatic?  Cura. 
Laus deo, bene intelligo.  Peda. 
Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratched, 'twil serve.  Enter Braggart, Boy. Curate. 
Vides ne quis venit?  Peda. 
Video, & gaudio.  Brag. 
Chirra.  Peda. 
Quar● Chirra, not Sirrah?  Brag. 
Men of peace well encountered.  Ped. 
Most military sir salutation▪  Boy. 
They have been at a great feast of Languages, and stolen the scraps.  Clow. 
O they have lived long on the almsbasket of words. I marvel thy M. 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.  Page. 
Peace, the peal gins.  Brag. 
monsieur, are you not lettered?  Page. 
Yes, yes, he ●eaches boys the Hornbook:  
What is Abspeld backward with the horn on his head?  Peda. 
Ba, puericia with a horn added.  Pag. 
Ba most silly Sheep, with a horn: you hear his learning.  Peda. 
Quis quis, thou Consonant?  Pag 
The last of the five Vowels if You repeat them, or the fift if I.  Peda. 
I will repeat them: a e I  Pag. 
The Sheep, the other two concludes it o u.  Brag. 
Now by the salt wave of the mediteranium, a sweet touch, a quick vene we of wit, snip snap, quick & home, it rejoiceth my intellect, true wit.  Page. 
Offered by a child to an old man: which is wit-old.  Peda. 
What is the figure? What is the figure?  Page. 
Horns.  Peda. 
Thou disputes like an Infant: go whip thy Gig.  Pag. 
Lend me your Horn to make one, and I will whip about your Infamy unum cita a gig of a Cuckold's horn.  Clow. 
And I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the very Remuneration I had of thy Master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & 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 dungil, at the finger's ends, as they say.  Peda. 
Oh I smell false Latin, dunghel for unguem.  Brag. 
Artsman preambulat, we will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-house on the top of the Mountain?  Peda. 
Or Mons the hill.  Brag. 
At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountain.  Peda. 
I do sans question.  Bra. 
Sir, it is the Kings 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.  Ped. 
The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon: the word is well could, chose, sweet, and apt I do assure you sir, I do assure.  Brag. 
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 importunate & 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 antic, or firework: Now, understanding that the Curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking out of mirth ●. i● were) I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.  Peda. 
Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistants the King's command: and this most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princess: I say none so sit as to present the Nine Worthies.  Curate. 
Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?  Peda. 
josua, yourself: myself, and this gallant gentleman judas Machabeus; this Swain (because of his great limb or ●oynt) shall pass Pompey the great, the Page Hercules.  Brag. 
Pardon sir, error: He is not quantity enough for that Worthies thumb, he is not so big as the end of his Club.  Peda. 
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.  Pag. 
An excellent device: so if any of the audience hisse, 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.  Brag. 
For the rest of the Worthies?  Peda. 
I will play three myself.  Pag. 
Thrice worthy Gentleman.  Brag. 
Shall I tell you a thing?  Peda. 
We attend.  Brag. 
We will have, if this fadge not, an Antique. I beseech you follow.  Ped. 
Via goodman Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this while.  Dull. 
Nor understood none neither sir.  Ped. 
Alone, we will employ thee.  Dull. 
I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey.  Ped. 
Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.  Exit. Enter Ladies'. Qu. 
Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart,  
If fairings come thus plentifully in.  
A Lady walled about with Diamonds: Look you, what I have from the loving King.  Rosa. 
Madam, came nothing else along with that?  Qu. 
Nothing but this yes as much love in Rhyme,  
As would be crammed up in a sheet of paper  
Writ on both sides the lease, margin and all,  
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.  Rosa. 
That was the way to make his godhead wax:  
For he hath been five thousand years a Boy.  Kath. 
I, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.  Ros. 
You'll ne'er be friends with him, a killed your sister.  Kath. 
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 a been a Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart life's long.  Ros. 
What's your dark meaning mouse, of this light word?  Kat. 
A light condition in a beauty dark.  Ros. 
We need more light to find your meaning out.  Kat. 
You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff:  
Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.  Ros. 
Look what you do, you do it still i' th' dark.  Kat. 
So do not you, for you are a light Wench.  Ros. 
Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.  Ka. 
You weigh me not, O that's you care not for me.  Ros. 
Great reason: for past care, is still past cure.  Qu. 
Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.  
But Rosaline, you have a Favour too?  
Who sent it? and what is it?  Ros. 
I would you knew.  
And if my face were but as fair as yours.  
My Favour were as great, be witness this.  
Nay, I have Verses too, I thank Berowne,  
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.  Qu. 
Any thing like?  Ros. 
Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.  Qu. 
Beauteous as Ink: a good conclusion.  Kat. 
Fair as a text B. in a Copy book.  Ros. 
Aware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor,  
My red Dominical, my golden letter.  
O that your face were full of Ocs.  Qu. 
A Pox of that jest, and I beshrew all Shrew's:  
But Katherine, what was sent to you  
From fair Dumain?  Kat. 
Madame, this Glove.  Qu. 
Did he not send you twain?  Kat. 
Yes Madame: and moreover,  
Some thousand Verses of a faithful Lover.  
A huge translation of hypocrisy,  
Vildly compiled, profound simplicity.  Mar. 
This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longavile.  
The Letter is too long by half a mile.  Qu. 
I think no less: Dost thou wish in heart  
The Chain were longer, and the Letter short.  Mar. 
I, or I would these hands might never part.  Quee. 
We are wise girls to mock our Lovers so.  Ros. 
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.  
That same Berowne i'll torture ere I go.  
O that I knew he were but in by th' 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 device,  
And make him proud to make me proud that jests.  
So pertaunt like would I o' resway his state,  
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.  Qu. 
None are so surely caught▪ when they are catcht,  
As Wit turned fool, folly in Wisdom hatched:  
Hath wisdoms warrant, and the help of School,  
And Wits own grace to grace a learned Fool?  Ros. 
The blood of youth burns not with such excess,  
As gravities revolt to wantoness be.  Mar. 
Follie in Fools bears not so strong a note,  
As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:  
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,  
To prove by Wit, worth in simplicity.  Enter Boyet. Qu. 
here comes Boyet, and mirth in his face.  Boy. 
O I am stabbed with laughter, where's her Grace?  Qu. 
Thy news Boyet?  Boy. 
Prepare Madame, 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.  Qu. 
Saint Dennis to S. Cupid: What are they,  
That charge their breath against us? Say scout say.  Boy. 
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 addressed,  
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 conned 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 feared her, had she been a devil▪  
With that all laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder,  
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.  
One rubbed his elbow thus, and fleered, 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 capered and cried, All goes well.  
The fourth turned 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 check their folly passions solemn tears.  Quee. 
But what, but what, come they to visit us?  Boy. 
They do, they do; and are apparelled thus,  
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.  
Their purpose is to parley, 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.  Queen. 
And will they so? the Gallants shall be tasked:  
For Ladies; we will every one be masked,  
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 Berowne take me for Rosaline.  
And change your Favours too, so shall your Loves  
Woe contrary, deceived by these removes.  Rosa. 
Come on then, wear the favours most in sight.  Kath. 
But in this changing, What is your intent?  Queen. 
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 Love's mistook, and so be mocked withal.  
Upon the next occasion that we meet,  
With Visages displayed to talk and greet.  Ros. 
But shall we dance, if they desire us too't?  Quee. 
No, to the death we will not move a foot,  
Nor to their penned speech render we no grace:  
But while 'tis spoke, each turn away his face.  Boy. 
Why that contempt will kill the keeper's heart,  
And quite divorce his memory from his part.  Quee. 
Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt,  
The rest will ere 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 mocked, depart away with shame.  Sound. Boy. 
The Trumpet sounds, be masked, the maskers come.  Enter Black moors with music, the Boy with a speech, and the rest of the Lords disguised. Page. 
All hail, the richest Beauties on the earth.  Ber. 
Beauties no richer than rich Taffeta.  Pag. 
A holy parcel of the fairest dames that ever turned their backs to mortal views.  The Ladies turn their backs to him. Ber. 
Their eyes villain, their eyes.  Pag. 
That ever turned their eyes to mortal views.  
Out  Boy. 
True, out indeed.  Pag. 
Out of your favours heavenly spirits vouchsafe  
Not to behold.  Ber. 
Once to behold, rogue.  Pag 
Once to behold with your Sun beamed eyes,  
With your Sun beamed eyes.  Boy. 
They will not answer to that Epithet,  
You were best call it Daughter beamed eyes.  Pag. 
They do not mark me, and that brings me out.  Bero. 
Is this your perfectness? be gone you rogue.  Rosa. 
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 Princes?  Ber. 
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.  Ros. 
What would they, say they?  Boy. 
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.  Rosa. 
Why that they have, and bid them so be gone.  Boy. 
She says you have it, and you may be gone.  Kin. 
Say to her we have measured many miles,  
To tread a Measure with you on the grass.  Boy. 
They say that they have measured many a mile,  
To tread a Measure with you on this grass.  Rosa. 
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:  Boy. 
If to come hither, you have measured miles,  
And many miles: the Princess bids you tell,  
How many inches doth fill up one mile?  Ber. 
Tell her we measure them by weary steps.  Boy. 
She hears herself.  Rosa. 
How many weary steps,  
Of many weary miles you have overgo,  
Are numbered in the travel of one mile?  Bero. 
We number nothing that we spend for you,  
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,  
That we may do it still without account.  
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,  
That we (like savages) may worship it.  Rosa. 
My face is but a Moon, and clouded too.  Kin. 
Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do.  
Vouchsafe bright Moon, and these thy stars to shine,  
(Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyen.  Rosa. 
O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter,  
Thou now requests but Moonshine in the water.  Kin. 
Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change.  
Thou bidst me beg, this begging is not strange.  Rosa. 
Play music then: nay you must do it soon.  
Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moon.  Kin. 
Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?  Rosa. 
You took the Moon at full, but now she's changed?  Kin. 
Yet still she is the Moon, and I the Man.  Rosa. 
The music plays, vouchsafe some motion to it: Our ears vouchsafe it.  Kin. 
But your legs should do it.  Ros. 
Since you are strangers, & come here by chance,  
we'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance.  Kin. 
Why take you hands then?  Rosa. 
Only to part friends.  
Curtsy sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends.  Kin. 
More measure of this measure, be not nice.  Rosa. 
We can afford no more at such a price.  Kin. 
Prise yourselves: What buys your company?  Rosa. 
Your absence only.  Kin. 
That can never be.  Rosa. 
Then cannot we be bought: and so adieu,  
Twice to your Visore, and half once to you.  Kin. 
If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.  Ros. 
In private then.  Kin. 
I am best pleased with that.  Be. 
White handed Mistress, one sweet word with thee.  Qu. 
Hony, and Milk, and Sugar: there is three.  Ber. 
Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice  
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well run dice:  
There's half a dozen sweets.  Qu. 
Seventh sweet adieu, since you can cog,  
I'll play no more with you.  Ber. 
One word in secret.  Qu. 
Let it not be sweet.  Ber. 
Thou grievest my gall.  Qu. 
Gall, bitter.  Ber. 
Therefore meet.  Du. 
Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?  Mar. 
Name it.  Dum. 
Fair Lady.  Mar. 
Say you so? Fair Lord:  
Take you that for your fair Lady.  Du. 
Please it you,  
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.  Mar. 
What, was your vizard made without a tongue?  Long. 
I know the reason Lady why you ask.  Mar. 
O for your reason, quickly sir, I long.  Long. 
You have a double tongue within your mask.  
And would afford my speechless vizard half.  Mar. 
Veal quoth the Dutchman: is not Veal a Calf?  Long. 
A Calf fair Lady?  Mar. 
No, a fair Lord Calf.  Long. 
Let's part the word.  Mar. 
No, I'll not be your half:  
Take all and wean it, it may prove an Ox.  Long. 
Look how you but yourself in those sharp mocks.  
Will you give horns chaste Lady? Do not so.  Mar. 
Then die a Calf before your horns do grow.  Lon. 
One word in private with you ere I die.  Mar. 
Bleat softly then, the Butcher hears you cry.  Boyet. 
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen  
As is the Razors 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  Rosa. 
Not one word more my maids, break off, break off.  Ber. 
By heaven, all dry beaten with pure scoff.  King. 
Farewell mad Wenches, you have simple wits.  Exeunt. Qu. 
Twenty adieus my frozen Muscovites.  
Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?  Boyet. 
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out.  Rosa. 
Well-liking wits they have, gross, gross, fat, fat.  Qu. 
O poverty in wit, Kingly poor flout.  
Will they not (think you) hang themselves to night?  
Or ever but in vizards show their faces:  
This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.  Rosa. 
They were all in lamentable cases.  
The King was weeping ripe for a good word.  Qu. 
Berowne did swear himself out of all suit.  Mar. 
Dumaine was at my service, and his sword:  
No point (quoth I:) my servant strait was mute.  Ka. 
Lord Longavill said I came over his hart:  
And trow you what he called me?  Qu. 
Qualm perhaps.  Kat. 
Yes in good faith.  Qu. 
Go sickness as thou art.  Ros. 
Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps,  
But will you hear; the King is my love sworn.  Qu. 
And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me.  Kat. 
And Longavill was for my service borne.  Mar. 
Dumain is mine as sure as bark on tree.  Boyet. 
Madam, and pretty mistresses give care,  
Immediately they will again be here  
In their own shapes: for it can never be,  
They will digest this harsh indignity.  Qu. 
Will they return?  Boy. 
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.  Qu. 
How blow? how blow? Speak to be understood.  Boy. 
Fair Ladies masked, are Roses in their bud:  
Dismaskt, their damask sweet commixture shown,  
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blown.  Qu. 
Avaunt perplexity: What shall we do,  
If they return in their own shapes to woe?  Rosa. 
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 hear,  
Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear:  
And wonder what they were, and to what end  
Their shallow shows, and Prologue vildly penned:  
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,  
Should be presented at our Tent to us.  Boyet. 
Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.  Quee. 
Whip to our Tents, as Roes runs over Land.  Exeunt. Enter the King and the rest. King. 
Fair sir, God save you. where's the Princess?  Boy. 
Gone to her Tent.  
Please it your Majesty command me any service to her?  King. 
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.  Boy. 
I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.  Exit. Ber. 
This fellow picks up wit as Pigeons pease,  
And utters it again, when jove doth please.  
He is Wit's Pedlar, and retails his Wares,  
At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, M●kets, 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 Eue.  
He can carve too, and lisp: Why this is he,  
That kissed away his hand 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 duty of honie-tongued Boyet.  King. 
A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart,  
That put Armathoes Page out of his part.  Enter the Ladies. Ber. 
See where it comes. Behaviour what were't thou,  
Till this madman showed thee? And what art thou now?  King. 
All hail sweet Madame, and fair time of day.  Qu. 
Fair in all Hail is foul, as I conceive.  King. 
Construe my speeches better, if you may.  Qu. 
Then wish me better, I will give you leave.  King. 
We came to visit you, and purpose now  
To lead you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.  Qu. 
This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow:  
Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.  King. 
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:  
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.  Q. 
You nickname virtue: vice you should have spoke:  
For virtue's office never breaks men troth.  
Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure  
As the unsallied Lily, I protest,  
A world of torments though I should endure,  
I would not yield to be your houses guest:  
So much I hate a breaking cause to be  
Of heavenly oaths, vowed with integrity.  Kin. 
O you have lived in desolation here,  
Unseen, unuisited, much to our shame.  Qu. 
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.  Kin. 
How Madam? Russians?  Qu. 
I in truth, my Lord.  
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state.  Rosa. 
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 Russia habit: here they stayed an hour,  
And talked 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.  Ber. 
This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet,  
Your wits 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.  Ros. 
This proves you wise and rich: for in my eye  Ber. 
I am a fool, and full of poverty.  Ros. 
But that you take what doth to you belong,  
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.  Ber. 
O, I am yours and all that I possess.  Ros. 
All the fool mine.  Ber. 
I cannot give you less.  Ros. 
Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?  Ber. 
Where? when? What Vizard?  
Why demand you this?  Ros. 
There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,  
That hide the worse, and showed the better face.  Kin. 
We are descried,  
They'll mock us now downright.  Du. 
Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.  Que. 
Amazed my Lord? Why looks your Highness' sad?  Rosa. 
Help hold his brows, he'll sound: why look you pale?  
Sea-sick I think coming from Muscovie.  Ber. 
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 penned,  
Nor to the motion of a Schoolboys tongue  
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,  
Nor woe in rhyme like a blind-harpers song,  
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,  
Three-piled Hyperboles, spruce affection;  
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 expressed  
In russet yea, and honest kersie no's.  
And to begin Wench, so God help me law,  
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.  Rosa. 
Sans, sans, I pray you.  Ber. 
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,  
Writ 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 Lords tokens on you do I see.  Qu. 
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.  Ber. 
Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.  Ros. 
It is not so; for how can this be true,  
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue.  Ber. 
Peace, for I will not have to do with you.  Ros. 
Nor shall not, if I do as I intent.  Ber. 
Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end.  King. 
Teach us sweet Madame, for our rude transgression, some fair excuse.  Qu. 
The fairest is confession.  
Were you not here but even now, disguised?  Kin. 
Madam, I was.  Qu. 
And were you well advised?  Kin. 
I was fair Madam.  Qu. 
When you then were here,  
What did you whisper in your Lady's ear?  King. 
That more than all the world I did respect her  Qu. 
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.  King. 
Upon mine Honour no.  Qu. 
Peace, peace, forbear: your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.  King. 
Despise me when I break this oath of mine.  Qu. 
I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline,  
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?  Ros. 
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.  Qu. 
God give thee joy of him: the Noble Lord Most honourably doth uphold his word.  King. 
What mean you Madame?  
By my life, my troth,  
I never swore this Lady such an oath.  Ros. 
By heaven you did; and to confirm it plain, you gave me this: But take it sir again.  King. 
My faith and this, the Princess I did give,  
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.  Qu. 
Pardon me sir, this jewel did she wear,  
And Lord Berowne (I thank him) is my dear.  
What? Will you have me, or your Pearl again?  Ber. 
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-newes, 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, wooed but the sign of she.  
Now to our perjury, to add more terror,  
We are again forsworn in will and error.  
Much upon this 'tis: and might not you  
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?  
Do not you know my Lady's foot by ' th' squire?  
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 aloud.  
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.  Boy. 
Full merrily hath this brave manager, this career been run.  Ber. 
Lo, he is tilting strait. Peace, I have done.  Enter Clown. 
Welcome pure wit, thou partest a fair fray.  Clo. 
O Lord sir, they would know,  
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.  Ber. 
What, are there but three?  Clo. 
No sir, but it is vary fine,  
For every one presents three.  Ber. 
And three times thrice is nine.  Clo. 
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.  Ber. 
Is not nine.  Clo. 
Under correction sir, we know where-untill it doth amount.  Ber. 
By jove, I always took three three for nine.  Clow. 
O Lord sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning sir.  Ber. 
How much is it?  Clo. 
O Lord sir, the parties themselves, the actors sir will show where-untill it doth amount: for mine own part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poor man) Pompey the great sir.  Ber. 
Art thou one of the Worthies?  Clo. 
It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.  Ber. 
Go, bid them prepare.  Exit. Clo. 
We will turn it finely off sir, we will take some care.  King. 
Berowne, they will shame us:  
Let them not approach.  Ber. 
We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policy, to have one show worse than the Kings and his company.  Kin. 
I say they shall not come.  Qu. 
Nay my good Lord, let me overrule 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.  Ber. 
A right description of our sport my Lord.  Enter Braggart. Brag. 
Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.  Qu. 
Doth this man serve God?  Ber. 
Why ask you?  Qu. 
He speaks not like a man of God's making.  Brag. 
That's 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 delaguar, I wish you the peace of mind most royal cupplement.  King. 
Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swain Pompey the great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadas Page Hercules, the Pedant judas Machabeus: And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, these four will change habits, and present the other five.  Ber. 
There is five in the first show.  Kin. 
You are deceived, 'tis not so.  Ber. 
The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the Fool, and the Boy,  
Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world again,  
Cannot prick out five such, take each one in's vain.  Kin. 
The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.  Enter Pompey. Clo. 
I Pompey am.  Ber. 
You lie, you are not he.  Clo. 
I Pompey am.  Boy. 
With Leopard's head on knee.  Ber. 
Well said old mocker,  
I must needs be friends with thee.  Clo. 
I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the big.  Du. 
The great.  Clo. 
It is great sir: Pompey surnamed the great:  
That oft in field, with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat:  
And travailing 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 thankes Pompey, I had done.  La. 
Great thankes great Pompey.  Clo. 
'tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in great.  Ber. 
My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.  Enter Curate for Alexander. Curate. 
When in the world I lived, I was the world's Commander:  
By East, West, North, & South, I spread my conquering might  
My Scutcheon plain declares that I am Alexander.  Boiet. 
Your nose says no, you are not:  
For it stands too right.  Ber. 
Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight.  Qu. 
The Conqueror is dismayed:  
Proceed good Alexander.  Cur. 
When in the world I lived, I was the world's Commander.  Boiet. 
Most true, 'tis right: you were so Alexander.  Ber. 
Pompey the great.  Clo. 
your servant and Costard.  Ber. 
Take away the Conqueror, take away Alexander  Clo. 
O sir, you have overthrown Alexander the conqueror: you will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pole-axe sitting on a close stool, will be given to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthy. A Conqueror, and afraid to speak? Run away for shame Alexander. There an't shall please you: a foolish mild man, an honest man, look you, & soon dashed. He is a marvelous good neighbour insooth, and a very good Bowler: but for Alexander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a coming, will speak their mind in some other sort.  Exit Cu. Qu. 
Stand aside good Pompey.  Enter Pedant for judas, and the Boy for Hercules. Ped. 
Great Hercules is presented by this Imp,  
Whose Club killed Cerberus that threeheaded Canus,  
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.  Exit Boy Ped. 
judas I am.  Dum. 
A judas?  Ped. 
Not Iscariot sir.  
judas I am, yclept Machabeus.  Dum. 
judas Machabeus clipped, is plain judas.  Ber. 
A kissing traitor. How art thou proved judas?  Ped. 
judas I am.  Dum. 
The more shame for you judas.  Ped. 
What mean you sir?  Boi. 
To make judas hang himself.  Ped. 
Begin sir, you are my elder.  Ber. 
Well followed, judas was hanged on an Elder.  Ped. 
I will not be put out of countenance.  Ber. 
Because thou hast no face.  Ped. 
What is this?  Boi. 
A Cittern head.  Dum. 
The head of a bodkin.  Ber. 
A death's face in a ring.  Lon. 
The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.  Boi. 
The pummel of Caesar's Falchion.  Dum. 
The caru'd-bone face on a Flask.  Ber. 
S. George's half cheek in a brooch.  Dum. 
I, and in a brooch of Lead.  Ber. 
I, and worn in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.  
And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance  Ped. 
You have put me out of countenance.  Ber. 
False, we have given thee faces.  Ped. 
But you have outfaced them all.  Ber. 
And thou were't a Lion, we would do so.  Boy. 
Therefore as he is, an Ass, let him go:  
And so adieu sweet jude. Nay, why dost thou stay?  Dum. 
For the latter end of his name.  Ber. 
For the Ass to the jude: give it him. judas away.  Ped. 
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.  Boy. 
A light for monsieur judas, it grows dark, he may stumble.  Que. 
Alas poor Machabeus, how hath he been baited.  Enter Braggart. Ber. 
Hide thy head Achilles, here comes Hector in Arms.  Dum. 
Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.  King. 
Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.  Boi. 
But is this Hector?  Kin. 
I think Hector was not so ●leane timbered.  Lon. 
His leg is too big for Hector.  Dum. 
More Calf certain.  Boi. 
No, he is best endued in the small.  Ber. 
This cannot be Hector.  Dum. 
He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.  Brag. 
The Armipotent Mars, of Lances the almighty, gave Hector a gift.  Dum. 
A gilt Nutmeg.  Ber. 
A Lemmon.  Lon. 
Stuck with Cloves.  Dum. 
No cloven.  Brag. 
The Armipotent Mars of Lances the almighty,  
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Illium;  
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight: yea  
From morn till night, out of his Pavilion.  
I am that Flower.  Dum. 
That Mint.  Long. 
That Cullambine.  Brag. 
Sweet Lord Longavill rhene thy tongue.  Lon. 
I must rather give it the reine: for it runs against Hector.  Dum. 
I, and Hector's a Greyhound.  Brag. 
The sweet Warman is dead and rotten,  
Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:  
But I will forward with my device;  
Sweet Royalty bestow on me the sense of hearing.  Berowne steps forth. Qu. 
Speak brave Hector, we are much delighted.  Brag. 
I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper.  Boy. 
Love's her by the foot.  Dum. 
He may not by the yard.  Brag. 
This Hector fare surmounted Hannibal.  The party is gone. Clo. 
Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.  Brag. 
What meanest thou?  Clo. 
Faith unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly already: 'tis yours.  Brag. 
Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die.  Clo. 
Then shall Hector be whipped for jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey, that is dead by him.  Dum. 
Most rare Pompey.  Boi. 
Renowned Pompey.  Ber. 
Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the huge.  Dum. 
Hector trembles.  Ber. 
Pompey is moved, more Atees more Atees stir them, or stir them on.  Dum. 
Hector will challenge him.  Ber. 
I, if of have no more man's blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea.  Brag. 
By the North-pole I do challenge thee.  Clo. 
I will not fight with a pole like a Northern man; I'll flash, I'll do it by the sword: I pray you let me borrow my Arms again.  Dum. 
Room for the incensed Worthies.  Clo. 
I'll do it in my shirt.  Dum. 
Most resolute Pompey.  Page. 
Master, let me take you a button hole lower:  
Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat: what mean you? you will lose your reputation.  Brag. 
Gentlemen and Soldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt.  Du. 
You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.  Brag. 
Sweet bloods, I both may, and will.  Ber. 
What reason have you for't?  Brag. 
The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt,  
I go woolward for penance.  Boy. 
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 jaquenettas', and that he wears next his heart for a favour.  Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade. Mar. 
God save you Madame.  Qu. 
Welcome Mercade, but that thou interruptest our merriment.  Marc. 
I am sorry Madam, for the news I bring is heavy in my tongue. The King your father  Qu. 
Dead for my life.  Mar. 
Even so: My tale is told.  Ber. 
Worthies away, the Scene gins to cloud.  Brag. 
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 Kin. 
How fares your Majesty?  Qu. 
Boyet prepare, I will away to night.  Kin. 
Madame not so, I do beseech you stay.  Qu. 
Prepare I say. I thank you gracious Lords  
For all your fair endeavours and entreaties:  
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,  
In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,  
The liberal opposition of our spirits,  
If overboldly we have borne ourselves,  
In the converse of breath (your gentleness  
Was guilty of it.) Farewell worthy Lord:  
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue.  
Excuse me so, coming so short of thankes,  
For my great suit, so easily obtained.  Kin. 
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  
Forbidden 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,  Qu. 
I understand you not, my griefs are double.  Ber. 
Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of grief  
And by these badges understand the King,  
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,  
Played foul play with our oaths: your beauty Ladies  
Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours  
Even to the opposed end of our intents.  
And what in us hath seemed ridiculous:  
As Love is full of unbefitting strains,  
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain.  
Formed by the eye, and therefore like the eye.  
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of forms  
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll,  
To every varied object in his glance:  
Which partie-coated presence of lose 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.  Qu. 
We have received your Letters, full of Love:  
Your Favours, the Ambassadors of Love..  
And in our maiden counsel rated them,  
At courtship, pleasantiest, and courtesy,  
As bombast and as lining to the time:  
But more devout than these are our respects  
Have we not been, and therefore met your loves  
In their own fashion, like a merriment.  Du. 
Our letters Madam, showed much more than jest.  Lon. 
So did our looks.  Rosa. 
We did not coat them so.  Kin. 
Now at the latest minute of the hour,  
Grant us your loves.  Qu. 
A time me thinks 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 their 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 others hart.  Kin. 
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.  Ber. 
And what to me my Love? and what to me?  Ros. 
You must be purged too, your sins are racked.  
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.  Du. 
But what to me my love? but what to me?  Kat. 
A wife? a beard, fair health, and honesty,  
With threefold love, I wish you all these three.  Du. 
O shall I say, I thank you gentle wife?  Kat. 
Not so my Lord, a twelvemonth and a day,  
I'll mark no words that smoothfaced wooers say.  
Come when the King doth to my Lady come:  
Then if I have much love, I'll give you some.  Dum. 
I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.  Kath. 
Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again▪  Lon. 
What says Maria?  Mari. 
At the twelvemonth's end,  
I'll change my black Gown, for a faithful friend.  Lon. 
I'll stay with patience: but the time is long.  Mari. 
The liker you, few taller are so young.  Ber. 
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 my love.  Ros. 
Oft have I heard of you my Lord Berowne,  
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 endeavour of your wit,  
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.  Ber. 
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?  
It cannot be, it is impossible.  
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.  Ros. 
Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,  
Whose influence is begot of that lose grace,  
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:  
A jests prosperity, lies in the ear  
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue  
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,  
Deafed 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.  Ber. 
A twelvemonth? Well: befall what will befall,  
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an Hospital.  Qu. 
I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leave.  King. 
No Madam, we will bring you on your way.  Ber. 
Our wooing doth not end like an old Play:  
jacke hath not Gill: these Lady's courtesy  
Might well have made our sport a Comedy.  Kin. 
Come sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,  
And then 'twil end.  Ber. 
That's too long for a play.  Enter Braggart. Brag. 
Sweet Majesty vouchsafe me.  Qu. 
Was not that Hector?  Dum. 
The worthy Knight of Troy.  Brag. 
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.  Kin. 
Call them forth quickly, we will do so.  Brag. 
Holla, Approach.  Enter all. 
This side is Hiems, Winter.  
This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owl,  
Th' other by the Cuckoo.  
Ver, begin.  The Song. 

When Daisies pied, and Violets blue,  
And Cuckow-buds of yellow hue:  
And Ladie-smockes all silver white,  
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 Sphepheard blows his nail;  
And Tom bears Logs into the hall,  
And Milk comes frozen home in pail:  
When blood is nipped, and ways be fowl,  
Then nightly sings the staring Owl  
Tu-whit to-who.  
A merry note,  
While greasy jone doth keel the pot.   

When all aloud the wind doth blow,  
And cossing drowns the Parsons saw:  
And birds sit brooding in the snow,  
And Marrians nose looks red and raw:  
When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowl,  
Then nightly sings the staring Owl,  
Tu-whit to who:  
A merry note,  
While greasy jone doth keel the pot.   Brag. 
The Words of Mercury,  
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:  
You that way; we this way.  Exeunt omnes.  
FINIS.   

A MIDSUMMER Night's Dream.  

Actus primus.  Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others. Theseus. 
NOw fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour  
Draws on apace: four happy days bring in  
Another Moon: but oh, me thinks, how slow  
This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires  
Like to a Stepdame, or a Dowager,  
Long withering out a young man's revennew.  Hip. 
Four days will quickly steep themselues in nights  
Four nights will quickly dream away the time:  
And then the Moon, like to a silver bow,  
Now bend in heaven, shall behold the night  
Of our solemnities.  The. 
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,  
Hippolita, I wooed 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 and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius'. Ege. 
Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke.  The. 
Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?  Ege. 
Full of vexation, come I, with complaint  
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.  Stand forth Dometrius. 
My Noble Lord,  
This man hath my consent to marry her.  Stand forth Lysander. 
And my gracious Duke,  
This man hath bewitched 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, gauds, conceits,  
Knacks, trifles, Nosegays, sweet meats (messengers  
Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth)  
With cunning hast thou filched my daughter's heart,  
Turned 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.  The. 
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.  Her. 
So is Lysander.  The. 
In himself he is.  
But in this kind, wanting your father's voice.  
The other must be held the worthier.  Her. 
I would my father looked but with my eyes.  The. 
Rather your eyes must with his judgement look.  Her. 
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.  The. 
Either to dye 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 mewed,  
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 distilled,  
Then that which withering on the virgin thorn,  
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.  Her. 
So will I grow, so live, so die my Lord,  
Ere I will yield my virgin Patent up  
Unto his Lordship, whose unwished yoke,  
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.  The. 
Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon  
The sealing day betwixt my love and me,  
For everlasting bond of fellowship:  
Upon that day either prepare to dye,  
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.  Dem. 
Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yield  
Thy crazed title to my certain right.  Lys. 
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.  Lys. 
I am my Lord, as well derived as he,  
As well possessed: my love is more than his:  
My fortunes every way as fairly ranked  
(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 Nedars' daughter, Helena,  
And won her soul: and she (sweet Lady) dotes,  
Devoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,  
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.  The. 
I must confess, that I have heard so much,  
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof:  
But being over-full of selfe-affaires,  
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 Hippolita▪ 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.  Ege. 
With duty and desire we follow you.  Exeunt Manet Lysander and Hermia. Lys. 
How now my love? Why is your cheek so pale?  
How chance the Roses there do fade so fast?  Her. 
Belike for want of rain, which I could well  
Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes.  Lys. 
For aught that ever I could read,  
Can ever hear by tale or history,  
The course of true love never did run smooth,  
But either it was different in blood.  Her. 
O cross! too high to be enthralled to love.  Lys. 
Or else misgraffed, in respect of years.  Her. 
O spite! too old to be engaged to young.  Lys. 
Or else it stood upon the choice of merit.  Her. 
O hell! to choose love by another's eye.  Lys. 
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,  
War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it;  
Making it momentary, 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.  Her. 
If then true Lovers have been ever crossed,  
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 Fancies followers.  Lys. 
A good persuasion; therefore hear me Hermia,  
I have a Widow Aunt, a dowager,  
Of great revennew, and she hath ●o child,  
From Athens is her house removed 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 lov'st 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 for a morn of May)  
There will I stay for thee.  Her. 
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 love,  
And by that fire which burned the Carthage Queen,  
When the false Trojan 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.  Lys. 
Keep promise love: look here comes Helena.  Enter Helena. Her. 
God speed fair Helena, whither away?  Hel. 
Call you me fair? that fair again unsay,  
Demetrius love's you fair: O happy fair!  
Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues 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,  
Your words I catch, fair Hermia ere I go,  
My ear should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,  
My tongue should catch your tongues sweet melody,  
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,  
The rest I'll give to be to you translated.  
O teach me how you look, and with what art you sway the motion of Demetrius hart.  Her. 
I frown upon him, yet he love's me still.  Hel. 
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill.  Her. 
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.  Hel. 
O that my prayers could such affection move.  Her. 
The more I hate, the more he follows me.  Hel. 
The more I love, the more he hateth me.  Her. 
His folly Helena is none of mine.  Hel. 
None but your beauty, would that fault were mine  Her. 
Take comfort: he no more shall see my face,  
Lysander and myself will fly this place.  
Before the time I did Lysander see,  
Seemed Athens like a Paradise to me.  
O then, what graces in my Love do dwell,  
That he hath turned a heaven into hell.  Lys. 
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 Lover's flights doth still conceal)  
Through Athens gates, have we devised to steal.  Her. 
And in the wood, where often you and I,  
Upon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lie,  
Emptying our bosoms, of their counsel swelled:  
There my Lysander, and myself shall meet,  
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes  
To seek new friends and strange companions,  
Farewell sweet playfellow, pray thou for us,  
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius.  
Keep word Lysander we must starve our sight,  
From lover's food, till morrow deep midnight.  Exit Hermia. Lys. 
I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,  
As you on him, Demetrius' dotes on you.  Exit Lysander. Hele. 
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 doth know,  
And as he errs, doting on Hermias eyes;  
So I, admiring of his qualities:  
Things base and vild, holding no quantity,  
Love can transpose to form and dignity,  
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,  
And therefore is winged 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 often beguiled,  
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear;  
So the boy Love is perjured every where.  
For ere Demetrius looked on Hermias eyen,  
He hailed 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 Hermias flight:  
Then to the wood will he, to morrow night  
Pursue her; and for his intelligence,  
If I have thankes, it is a dear expense:  
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,  
To have his sight thither, and back again.  Exit. Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the joiner, Bottom the Weaver, Flute the bellows-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starveling the Tailor. Quin. 
Is all our company here?  Bot. 
You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.  Qui. 
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.  Bot. 
First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point.  Quin. 
Marry our play is the most lamentable Comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbie.  Bot. 
A very good piece of work I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scroll. Master's 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.  Bot. 
What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant?  Quin. 
A Lover that kills himself most gallantly for love.  Bot. 
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 Hercules 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 fare, and make and mar the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This is Hercules vain, a tyrant's vain: a lover is more condoling.  Quin. 
Francis Flute the Bellows-mender:  Flu. 
here Peter Quince.  Quin. 
You must take Thisbie on you.  Flut. 
What is Thisbie, a wand'ring Knight?  Quin. 
It is the Lady that Pyramus must love.  Flut. 
Nay faith, let not me play a woman, I have a beard coming.  Qui. 
That's all one, you shall play it in a Mask, and you may speak as small as you will.  Bot. 
And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice; Thisbe, Thisbe, ah Pyramus my lover dear, thy Thisbie dear, and Lady dear.  Quin. 
No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you Thuby.  Bot. 
Well, proceed.  Qu. 
Robin Starveling the Tailor.  Star. 
here Peter Quince.  Quince. 
Robin Starveling, you must play Thisbies' mother?  Tom Snowt, 
the Tinker.  Snowt. 
here Peter Quince.  Quin. 
You, Pyramus father; myself, Thisbies' father; Snug the joiner, you the Lion's part: and I hope there is a play fitted.  Snug. 
Have you the Lions part written? pray you if be, give it me, for I am slow of study.  Quin. 
You may do it extemporie, for it is nothing but roaring.  Bot. 
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.  Quin. 
If 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 and 'twere any Nightingale.  Quin. 
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 Gentlemanlike man, therefore you must needs play Pyramus.  Bot. 
Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?  Quin. 
Why, what you will.  Bot. 
I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour beard, your orange tawny beard, your purple in grain beard, or your French-crown coloured beard, your perfect yellow.  Quin. 
Some of your French Crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. But masters here are your parts, and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the Town, by Moonlight, there we will rehearse: for if we meet in the City, we shallbe dogged with company, and our devices known. In the mean time, 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 more obscenely and courageously. Take pains, be perfect, adieu.  Quin. 
At the Duke's oak we meet.  Bot. 
Enough, hold or cut bowstrings.  Exeunt  

Actus Secundus.  Enter a Fairy at one door, and Robin goodfellow at another. Rob. 
How now spirit, whether wander you?  Fai. 
Over hill, over dale, through bush, through briar,  
Over park, over pale, through flood, through fire,  
I do wander every where, swifter than the Moons sphere;  
And I serve the Fairy Queen, to due her orbs upon the green.  
The Cowslips tall, her pensioners be;  
In their gold coats, spots you see,  
Those be Rubies, Fairy savours,  
In those freckles, live their savours,  
I must go seek some dew drops here,  
And hang a pearl in every cowslips ear.  
Farewell thou Job of spirits, I'll be gone,  
Our Queen and all her Elves come here anon.  Rob. 
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 Forest's wild.  
But she (perforce) withholds the loved boy,  
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.  
And now they never meet in groue, 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.  Fai. 
Either I mistake your shape and making quite,  
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish spirit  
Called Robin Goodfellow. Are you not he,  
That frights the maidens of the Villagree,  
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the querne,  
And bootless make the breathless huswife cherne,  
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,  
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm,  
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke,  
You do their work, and they shall have good luck.  
Are not you he?  Rob. 
Thou speakest aright;  
I am that merry wanderer of the night:  
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,  
When I a fat and beanefed horse beguile,  
Neighing in likeness of a silly 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 withered dewlop 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 choir hold their hips, and loffe,  
And waxed in their mirth, and sneeze, and swear,  
A merrier hour was never wasted there.  
But room Fairy, here comes Oberon.  Fair. 
And here my Mistress:  
Would that he were gone.  Enter the King of Fairies at one door with his train, and the Queen at another with hers. Ob. 
Ill met by Moonlight,  
Proud Tytania.  Qu. 
What, jealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.  
I have forsworn his bed and company.  Ob. 
Tarry rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord?  Qu. 
Then I must be thy Lady: but I know  
When thou waste 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 steep of India?  
But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon  
Your buskined Mistress, and your Warrior love,  
To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come,  
To give their bed joy and prosperity.  Ob. 
How canst thou thus for shame Tytania,  
Glance at my credit, with Hippolita?  
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?  
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night  
From Peregenia, whom he ravished?  
And make him with fair Eagles break his faith  
With Ariadne, and Atiopa?  Que. 
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 margin of the sea,  
To dance our ringlets to the whistling Wind,  
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.  
Therefore the Winds, piping to us in vain,  
As in revenge, have sucked up from the sea  
Contagious fogs: Which falling in the Land,  
Hath every petty River made so proud,  
That they have over-borne their Continents.  
The Ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain,  
The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the green Corn  
Hath rotten, ere his youth attained a beard:  
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,  
And Crows are fatted with the murrion flock,  
The nine men's Morris is filled up with mud,  
And the quaint Mazes in the wanton green,  
For lack of tread are undistinguishable.  
The humane mortals want their winter here,  
No night is now with hymn or carol blessed;  
Therefore the Moon (the governess of floods)  
Pale in her anger, washes all the air;  
That Rheumatic diseases do abound.  
And through this distemperature, we see  
The seasons alter; hoared headed frosts  
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose,  
And on old Hiems chin 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 wont 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.  Ober. 
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.  Qu. 
Set your heart at rest,  
The Fairy land buys not the child of me,  
His mother was a Votress of my Order,  
And in the spiced Indian air, by night  
Full often hath she gossipped by my side,  
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,  
Marking th' embarked traders on the flood,  
When we have laughed to see the sails conceive,  
And grow big bellied with the wanton wind:  
Which she with pretty and with swimming gate,  
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 I do rear up her boy,  
And for her sake I will not part with him.  Ob. 
How long within this wood intent you stay?  Qu. 
Perchance till after Theseus' wedding day.  
If you will patiently dance in our Round,  
And see our Moonlight revel's, go with us;  
If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts.  Ob. 
Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.  Qu. 
Not for thy Fairy Kingdom. Fairy's away:  
We shall chide down right, if I longer stay.  Exeunt. Ob. 
Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove,  
Till I torment thee for this injury.  
My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remember'st  
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-maids music.  Puc. 
I remember.  Ob. 
That very time I say (but thou couldst not)  
Flying between the cold Moon and the earth,  
Cupid all armed; 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  
Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery Moon;  
And the imperial Votress passed on,  
In maiden meditation, fancy free.  
Yet marked 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 showed thee once,  
The juice of it, on sleeping eyelids 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.  Pucke. 
I'll put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes.  Ober. 
Having once this juice,  
I'll watch Titania, when she is asleep,  
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:  
The next thing when 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 off from 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. Deme. 
I love thee not, therefore pursue me not,  
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia?  
The one I'll stay, the other stayeth me.  
Thou toldst me they were stolen into this wood;  
And here am I, and wood within this wood,  
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.  
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.  Hel. 
You draw me, you hardhearted 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.  Deme. 
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?  Hel. 
And even for that do I love thee 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 worse place can I beg in your love,  
(And yet a place of high respect with me)  
Then to be used as you do your dog.  Dem. 
Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit,  
For I am sick when I do look on thee.  Hel. 
And I am sick when I look not on you.  Dem. 
You do impeach your modesty too much,  
To leave the City, and commit yourself  
Into the hands of one that love's you not,  
To trust the opportunity of night,  
And the ill counsel of a desert place,  
With the rich worth of your virginity.  Hel. 
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?  Dem. 
I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,  
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.  Hel. 
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.  Demet. 
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.  Hel. 
I, in the Temple, in the Town, and 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 wooed, and were not made to woo.  
I follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,  
To die upon the hand I love so well.  Exit. Ob. 
Far thee well Nymph, ere he do leave this grove,  
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.  
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.  Enter Pucke. Puck. 
I, there it is.  Ob. 
I pray thee give it me.  
I know a bank where the wild time blows,  
Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet grows,  
Quite over-cannoped with luscious woodbine,  
With sweet musk roses, and with Eglantine;  
There sleeps Tytania, sometime of the night,  
Lullled in these flowers, with dances and delight:  
And there the snake throws her enammeled skin,  
Weed wide enough to rap 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.  Pu. 
Fear not my Lord, your servant shall do so.  Exit. Enter Queen of Fairies, with her train. Queen. 
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 Reremise, 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.  Fairy's Sing. 

You spotted Snakes with double tongue,  
Thorny Hedgehogges be not seen,  
Newts and blind worms do no wrong,  
Come not near our Fairy Queen.  
Philomele with melody,  
Sing in your sweet Lullaby▪  
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,  
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,  
Come our lovely Lady nigh,  
So good night with Lullaby.   2. Fairy. 
Weaving Spiders come not here,  
Hence you long legged Spinners, hence:  
Beetles black approach not near;  
Worm nor Snail do no offence.  
Philomele with melody, etc.  1. Fairy. 
Hence away, now all is well;  
One aloof, stand Sentinel.  She sleeps. Enter Oberon. Ober. 
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.  Enter Lisander and Hermia. Lis. 
Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the woods,  
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.  Her. 
Be it so Lysander; find you out a bed,  
For I upon this bank will rest my head.  Lys. 
One turf shall serve as pillow for us both,  
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.  Her. 
Nay good Lysander, for my sake my dear  
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.  Lys. 
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 can you make of it.  
Two bosoms interchanged with an oath,  
So then two bosoms, and a single troth.  
Then by your side, no bedroom me deny,  
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.  Her. 
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 humane modesty,  
Such separation, as may well be said,  
Becomes a virtuous bachelor, and a maid,  
So fare be distant, and good night sweet friend;  
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy sweet life end.  Lys. 
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.  Her. 
With half that wish, the wishers eyes be pressed.  Enter Pucke. They sleep. Puck 
Through the Forest have I gone,  
But Athenian find I none,  
One whose eyes I might approve  
This flowers 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 lacke-love, this kill-curtesie.  
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. Hel. 
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.  De. 
I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus.  Hel. 
O wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.  De. 
Stay on thy peril, I alone will go.  Exit Demetrius. Hel. 
O I am out of breath, in this fond chase,  
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace,  
Happy is Hermia, wheresoever 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 washed 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 Hermias sphery eyen?  
But who is here? Lysander on the ground;  
Dead or asleep? I see no blood, no wound,  
Lysander, if you live, good sir awake.  Lys. 
And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.  
Transparent Helena, nature her shows art,  
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.  
Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word  
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!  Hel. 
Do not say so Lysander, say not so:  
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?  
Yet Hermia still love's you; then be content.  Lys. 
Content with Hermia? No, I do repent  
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.  
Not Hermia, but Helena now I love;  
Who will not change a Raven for a Dove?  
The will of man is by his reason swayed:  
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 humane 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.  Hel. 
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery borne?  
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 (goodsooth you do)  
In such disdainful manner, me to woo.  
But far you well; perforce I must confess,  
I thought you Lord of more true gentleness.  
Oh, that a Lady of one man refused,  
Should of another therefore be abused.  Exit. Lys. 
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 the heresies that men do leave,  
Are hated most of those that 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. Her. 
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 yet sat smiling at his cruel prey.  
Lysander, what removed? Lysander, Lord,  
What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?  
Alack where are you? speak and if you hear:  
Speak of all loves; I sound almost with fear.  
No, than I well perceive you are not nigh,  
Either death or you I'll find immediately.  Exit.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter the Clowns. Bot. 
Are we all met?  Quin. 
Pat, pat, and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn broke our tiring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.  Bot. 
Peter quince?  Peter. 
What sayest thou, bully Bottom?  Bot. 
There are things in this Comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe, that will never please. First, Piraemus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the Ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?  Snout. 
Berlaken, a perilous fear.  Star. 
I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.  Bot. 
Not a whit, I have a device to make all well. Writ me a Prologue, and set 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.  Quin. 
Well, we will have such a Prologue, and it shall be written in eight and six.  Bot. 
No, make it two more, let it be written in eight and eight.  Snout. 
Will not the Ladies be afeared of the Lion?  Star. 
I fear it, I promise you.  Bot. 
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 foul than your Lion living: and we ought to look to it.  Snout. 
Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a lion.  Bot. 
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 him plainly he is Snug the joiner.  Quin. 
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 Thisbe meet by Moonlight.  Sn. 
Doth the Moon shine that night we play our play?  Bot. 
A Calendar, a Calendar, look in the Almanac, find out Moonshine, find out Moonshine.  Enter Pucke. Quin. 
Yes, it doth shine that night.  Bot. 
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.  Quin. 
I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, 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 Thisbe (says the story) did talk through the chink of a wall.  Sn. 
You can never bring in a wall. What say you Bottom?  Bot. 
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; or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny, shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.  Quin. 
If that may be, than 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 Robin. Rob. 
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.  Quin. 
Speak Pyramus: Thisbe stand forth.  Pir. 
Thisbe, the flowers of odious favours sweet.  Quin. 
Odours, odours.  Pir. 
Odours favours sweet,  
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.  
But hark, a voice: stay thou but here a while,  
And by and by I will to thee appear.  Exit. Pir. Puck 
A stranger Pyramus, then ere played here.  This. 
Must I speak now?  Pet. 
I marry must you. For you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.  This. 
Most radiant Pyramus, most Lily white of hue,  
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant briar,  
Most brisky Iwenall, and eke most lovely jew,  
As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,  
I'll meet thee Pyramus, at Ninnies tomb.  Pet. 
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.  This. 
O, as true as truest horse, that yet would never tire:  Pir. 
If I were fair, Thisbe I were only thine.  Pet. 
O monstrous. O strange. We are haunted; pray masters, fly masters, help.  The Clowns all Exit. Puk. 
I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a Round,  
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through briar,  
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. Enter Pyramus with the Ass head. Bot. 
Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me afeard.  Enter Snout. Sn. 
O Bottom, thou art changed; What do I see on thee?  Bot. 
What do you see? You see an Ass-head of your own, do you?  Enter Peter Quince. Pet. 
Bless thee Bottom, bless thee; thou art translated.  Exit. Bot. 
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.  
The Woosell cock, so black of hue,  
With Orange-tawny bill.  
The Throstle, with his note so true,  
The Wren and little quill.  Tyta. 
What Angel wakes me from my flowery bed?  Bot. 
The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Lark,  
The plainsong Cuckoo grey;  
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?  Tyta. 
I pray thee gentle mortal, sing again,  
Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note;  
On the first view to say, to swear I love thee.  
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape▪  
And thy fair virtue's force (perforce) doth move me.  Bot. 
Methinks mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together, nowadays. The more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.  Tyta. 
Thou art as wise, as thou art beautiful.  Bot. 
Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.  Tyta. 
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.  Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and four Fairies. Fai. 
Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?  Tita. 
Be kind and courteous to this Gentleman,  
Hop in his walks, and gambole in his eyes,  
Feed him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,  
With purple Grapes, green Figs, and Mulberries,  
The honie-bags steal from the humble Bees,  
And for night-tapers crop their waxed thighs,  
And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes,  
To have my love to bed, and to arise:  
And pluck the wings from painted Butterflies,  
To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eyes.  
Nod to him Elves, and do him courtesies.  1. Fai. 
Hail mortal, hail.  2. Fai. 
Hail.  3. Fai. 
Hail.  Bot. 
I cry your worship's mercy heartily; I beseech your worship's name.  Cob. 
Cobweb.  Bot. 
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?  Peas. 
Pease blossom.  Bot. 
I pray you commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shall desire of you more acquaintance to. Your name I beseech you sir?  Mus. 
Mustardseed.  Peas. 
Pease-blossome.  Bot. 
Good master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly giantlike Ox beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.  Tita. 
Come wait upon him, lead him to my bower.  
The Moon methinks, looks with a watery eye,  
And when she weeps, weep every little flower,  
Lamenting some enforced chastity.  
Tie up my lover's tongue, bring him silently.  Exit. Enter King of Pharies, solus. Ob. 
I wonder if Titania be awaked;  
Then what it was that next came in her eye,  
Which she must dote on, in extremity.  Enter Pucke. 
Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit,  
What night-rule now about this gaunted 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 Mcehanicals,  
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 entered in a brake,  
When I did him at this advantage take,  
An Asses nole I fixed on his head.  
Anon his Thisbie must be answered,  
And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spy,  
As Wild-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,  
Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort  
(Rising and cawing at the guns report)  
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky:  
So at his sight, away his fellows fly,  
And at our stamp, here over and over 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 yeelders 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)  
Tytania waked, and straightway loved an Ass.  Ob. 
This falls out better than I could device:  
But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes,  
With the love juice, as I did bid thee do?  Rob. 
I took him sleeping (that is finished to)  
And the Athenian woman by his side,  
That when he waked, of force she must be eyed.  Enter Demetrius and Hermia. Ob. 
Stand close, this is the same Athenian.  Rob. 
This is the woman, but not this the man.  Dem. 
O why rebuke you him that love's you so?  
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.  Her. 
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 over 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 board, and that the Moon  
May through the Centre creep, and so displease  
Her brothers noonetide, with th' Antipodes.  
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him,  
So should a mutrherer look, so dead, so grim.  Dem. 
So should the murderer look, and so should I,  
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:  
Yet you the murderer looks as bright as clear,  
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.  Her. 
What's this to my Lysander? where is he?  
Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?  Dem. 
I'd rather give his carcase to my hounds.  Her. 
Out dog, out cur, thou drivest me past the bounds  
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then?  
Henceforth be never numbered among men,  
Oh, once tell true, even for my sake,  
Durst thou a looked upon him, being awake?  
And hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave touch:  
Can not a worm, an Adder do so much?  
An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue  
Than thine (thou serpent) never Adder stung.  Dem. 
You spend your passion on a mispri'sd mood,  
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood:  
Nor is he dead for aught that I can tell.  Her. 
I pray thee tell me then that he is well.  Dem. 
And if I could, what should I get therefore?  Her. 
A privilege, never to see me more;  
And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more  
Whether he be dead or no.  Exit. Dem. 
There is no following her in this fierce vain,  
Here therefore for a while I will remain.  
So sorrows heaviness doth heavier grow:  
For debt that bankrupt slip doth sorrow owe,  
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,  
If for his tender here I make some stay.  Lie down. Ob. 
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 turned, and not a false turned true.  Rob. 
Then fate overrules, that one man holding troth,  
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.  Ob. 
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 doth appear.  Robin. 
I go, I go, look how I go,  
Swifter than arrow from the Tartars bow.  Exit. Ob. 
Flower of this purple die,  
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.  Enter Pucke. Puck. 
Captain of our Fairy band,  
Helena is here at hand,  
And the youth, mistook by me,  
Pleading for a Lovers fee.  
Shall we their fond Pageant see?  
Lord, what fools these mortals be!  Ob. 
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 befall preposterously.  Enter Lysander and Helena. Lys. 
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?  
Scorn and derision never comes in tears:  
Look when I vow I weep; and vows so borne,  
In their nativity all truth appears.  
How can these things in me, seem scorn to you?  
Bearing the badge of saith to prove them true.  Hel. 
You do advance your cunning more & more,  
When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!  
These vows are Hermias. Will you give her over?  
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.  Lys. 
I had no judgement, when to her I swore.  Hel. 
Nor none in my mind, now you give her over.  Lys. 
Demetrius love's her, and he love's not you.  Away. Dem. 
O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine,  
To what my love, shall I compare thine eyen!  
Crystal is muddy. O how ripe in show,  
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!  
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,  
Fanned 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.  Hell. 
O spite! O hell! I see you are all bent  
To set against me, for your merriment:  
If you were 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 to?  
If you are 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 maids 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.  Lysa. 
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 Hermias love I yield you up my part;  
And yours of Helena, to me bequeath,  
Whom I do love, and will do to my death.  Hel. 
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.  Dem. 
Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:  
If ere I loved her, all that love is gone.  
My heart to her, but as guestwise sojourned,  
And now to Helen it is home returned,  
There to remain.  Lys. 
It is not so.  De. 
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,  
Lest to thy peril thou abide it dear.  
Look where thy Love comes, yonder is thy dear.  Enter Hermia. Her. 
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 that sound.  
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?  Lysan. 
Why should he stay whom Love doth press to go?  Her. 
What love could press Lysander from my side?  Lys. 
Lysander's love (that would not let him bide)  
Fair Helena; who more engilds the night,  
Then all you fiery oes, and eyes of light.  
Why seekest thou me? Can not this make thee know,  
The hate I bore thee, made me leave thee so?  Her. 
You speak not as you think; it cannot be.  Hel. 
Lo, she is one of this confederacy,  
Now I perceive they have conjoined 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 sister's vows, the hours that we have spent,  
When we have chid the hasty footed time,  
For parting us; O, is all forgot?  
All schooledays 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 grew together,  
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,  
But yet a union in partition,  
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem,  
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,  
Two of the first life coats in Heraldry,  
Endue but to one and crowned with one crest.  
And will you rend 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.  Her. 
I am amazed at your passionate words,  
I scorn you not; It seems that you scorn me.  Hel. 
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 though I be not so in grace as you,  
So hung upon with love, so fortunate?  
(But miserable most, to love vnloued)  
This you should pity, rather than despise.  Her. 
I understand not what you mean by this.  Hel. 
I, do, persever, sergeant 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 far ye well, 'tis partly mine own fault,  
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.  Lys. 
Stay gentle Helena, hear my excuse,  
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena.  Hel. 
O excellent!  Her. 
Sweet, do not scorn her so.  Dem. 
If she cannot entreat, I can compel.  Lys. 
Thou canst compel, no more than she entreat.  
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak praise.  
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.  Dem. 
I say, I love thee more than he can do.  Lys. 
If thou say so, withdraw and prove it too.  Dem. 
Quick, come.  Her. 
Lysander, whereto tends all this?  Lys. 
Away, you Ethiope.  Dem. 
No, no, Sir, seem to break lose;  
Take on as you would follow,  
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go.  Lys. 
Hang off thou cat, thou but: vile thing let lose,  
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.  Her. 
Why are you grown so rude?  
What change is this sweet Love?  Lys. 
Thy love? out tawny Tartar, out;  
Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence.  Her. 
Do you not jest?  Hel. 
Yes sooth, and so do you.  Lys. 
Demetrius: I will keep my word with thee.  Dem. 
I would I had your bond for I perceive  
A weak bond▪ holds you; I'll not trust your word.  Lys. 
What, should I h●t her, strike her, kill her dead▪  
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.  Her. 
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 ere while.  
Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me.  
Why then you left me (O the gods forbidden  
In earnest, shall I say?  Lys. 
I, 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.  Her. 
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?  Hel. 
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 sergeant, you puppet, you.  Her. 
Puppet? why so? I, 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 prevailed 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.  Hel. 
I pray you though you mock me, gentlemen,  
Let her not hurt me; I was never cursed:  
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.  Her. 
Lower? hark again.  Hel. 
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me,  
I evermore did love you Hermia,  
Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you,  
Save that in love unto Demetrius,  
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.  
He followed you, for love I followed him,  
But he hath chid me hence, and threatened 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.  Her. 
Why get you gone: who is't that hinders you?  Hel. 
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.  Her. 
What, with Lysander?  Her. 
With Demetrius.  Lys. 
Be not afraid, she shall not harm thee Helena.  Dem. 
No sir, she shall not, though you take her part.  Hel. 
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.  Her. 
Little again? Nothing but low and little?  
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?  
Let me come to her.  Lys. 
Get you gone you dwarf,  
You minimus, of hindering knotgrass made,  
You bed, you acorne.  Dem. 
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 intent  
Never so little show of love to her,  
Thou shalt abide it.  Lys. 
Now she holds me not,  
Now follow if thou darest, to try whose right,  
Of thine or mine is most in Helena.  Dem. 
Fellow? Nay, I'll go with thee cheek by jowl.  Exit Lysander and Demetrius. Her. 
You Mistress, all this coil is long of you.  
Nay, go not back.  Hel. 
I will not trust you I,  
Nor longer stay in your cursed company.  
Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,  
My legs are longer though to run away.  Enter Oberon and Pucke. Ob. 
This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st,  
Or else committ'st thy knaveries willingly.  Puck. 
Believe me, King of shadows, I mistook,  
Did not you tell me, I should know the man,  
By the Athenian garments he hath on?  
And so fare blameless proves my enterprise,  
That I have anointed an Athenians eyes,  
And so fare am I glad, it so did sort,  
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.  Ob. 
Thou seest 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 Battie-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 role with wont 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 imply,  
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-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast,  
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;  
At whose approach Ghosts wand'ring here and there,  
Troop home to Churchyards; damned spirits all,  
That in crosseways and floods have burial,  
Already to their wormie beds are gone;  
For fear least day should look their shames upon,  
They wilfully themselves dxile from light,  
And must for aye consort with black browed night.  Ob. 
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.  Puck. 
up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down: I am seared in field and town. Goblin, lead them up and down: here comes one.  Enter Lysander. Lys. 
Where art thou, proud Demetrius?  
Speak thou now.  Rob. 
Here villain, drawn & ready. Where art thou?  Lys. 
I will be with thee strait.  Rob. 
Fellow me then to plainer ground.  Enter Demetrius. Dem. 
Lysander, speak again;  
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?  
Speak in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head?  Rob. 
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.  Dem. 
Yea, art thou there?  Ro. 
Fellow my voice, we'll try no manhood here.  Exit. Lys. 
He goes before me, and still dares me on,  
When I come where he calls, then he's gone.  
The villain is much lighter heeled than I:  
I followed fast, but faster he did fly;  shifting places. 
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,  
And here will rest me. Come thou gentle day:  lie down. 
For if but once thou show me thy grey light,  
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite.  Enter Robin and Demetrius. Rob. 
Ho, ho, ho; coward, why comest thou not?  Dem. 
Abide me, if thou darest. For well I wots,  
Thou run'st before me, shifting every place,  
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.  
Where art thou?  Rob. 
Come hither, I am here.  Dem. 
Nay then thou mockest 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 days approach look to be visited.  Enter Helena. Hel. 
O weary night, O long and tedious night,  
Abate thy hours, shine comforts from the East,  
That I may back to Athens by daylight,  
From these that my poor company detest;  
And sleep that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye,  
Steal me a while from mine own company.  Sleep. Rob. 
Yet but three? Come one more,  
Two of both kinds makes up four.  
Here she comes, cursed and sad,  
Cupid is a knavish lad,  Enter Hermia. 
Thus to make poor females mad.  Her. 
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,  
Heaven's shield Lysander, if they mean a fray.  Rob. 
On the ground sleep sound,  
I'll apply your eye gentle lover, remedy.  
When thou wakest, thou tak'st  
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.  
jacke shall have jill, nought shall go ill,  
The man shall have his Mare again; and all shall be well.  They sleep all the Act.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Queen of Fairies, and Clown, and Fairies, and the King behind them. Tita. 
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.  Clow. 
Where's Pease blossom?  Peas. 
Ready.  Clow. 
Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. where's Mounsiever Cobweb.  Cob. 
Ready.  Clown. 
Mounsieur Cobweb, good monsieur get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt 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 hony-bag signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed?  Mus. 
Ready.  Clo. 
Give me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed.  
Pray you leave your courtesy good Mounsieur.  Mus. 
What's your will?  Clo. 
Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Cavalero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.  Tita. 
What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love.  Clow. 
I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let us have the tongs and the bones.  Music Tongues, Rural Music. Tita. 
Or say sweet Love, what thou desirest to eat.  Clown. 
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.  Tita. 
I have a venturous Fairy,  
That shall seek the Squirrels hoard,  
And fetch thee new Nuts.  Clown. 
I had rather have a handful or two of dried pease. But I pray you let none of your people stir me, I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.  Tyta. 
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms,  
Fairy's be gone, and be always away.  
So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honeysuckle,  
Gently entwist; the female joy so  
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm.  
O how I love thee! how I dote on thee!  Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon. Ob. 
Welcome good Robin:  
Seest thou this sweet sight?  
Her dotage now I do begin to pity.  
For meeting her of late behind the wood,  
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,  
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her.  
For she his hairy temples than had rounded,  
With 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 flouriets eyes,  
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.  
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,  
And she in mild terms begged my patience,  
I then did ask of her, her changeling child,  
Which strait 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 Pucke, 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 thou as thou wast wont to be;  
See as thou wast wont to see.  
Diane's bud, or Cupid's flower,  
Hath such force and blessed power.  
Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queen.  Tita. 
My Oberon, what visions have I seen!  
Methought I was enamoured of an Ass.  Ob. 
There lies your love.  Tita. 
How came these things to pass?  
Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!  Ob. 
Silence a while, Robin take off his head:  
Titania, music call, and strike more dead  
Then common sleep; of all these, fine the sense.  Tita. 
Music, he music, such as charmeth sleep.  Music still. Rob. 
When thou wakest, with thine own fools eyes peep.  Ob. 
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 posterity.  
There shall the pairs of faithful Lovers be  
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.  Rob. 
Fair King attend, and mark,  
I do hear the morning Lark.  Ob. 
Then my Queen in silence sad,  
Trip we after the night's shade;  
We the Globe can compass soon,  
Swifter than the wand'ring Moon.  Tita. 
Come my Lord, and in our flight,  
Tell me how it came this night,  
That I sleeping here was found,  Sleepers Lie still. 
With these mortals on the ground.  Exeunt. Wind Horns. Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his train. Thes. 
Go one of you, find out the Forester,  
For now our observation is performed;  
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.  
We will fair Queen, up to the Mountain's top.  
And mark the musical confusion  
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.  Hip. 
I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,  
When in a wood of Crete they bayed 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 all one mutual cry. I never heard  
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.  Thes. 
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,  
So flewed, so sanded, and their heads are hung  
With ears that sweep away the morning dew,  
Crook kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Bulls,  
Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells,  
Each under each. A cry more tuneable  
Was never hallowed to, nor cheered 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 Nedars Helena,  
I wonder of this being here together.  The. 
No doubt they rose up early, to observe  
The right of May; and hearing our intent,  
Came here in grace of our solemnity.  
But speak Egeus, is not this the day  
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?  Egeus. 
It is, my Lord.  Thes. 
Go bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.  Horns and they wake. Shout within, they all start up. Thes. 
Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is passed,  
Begin these wood birds but to couple now?  Lys. 
Pardon my Lord.  Thes. 
I pray you all stand up.  
I know you two are Rival enemies.  
How comes this gentle concord in the world,  
That hatred is is so fare from jealousy,  
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity.  Lys. 
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 I do bethink me, so it is;  
I came with Hermia hither. Our intent  
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be  
Without the peril of the Athenian Law.  Ege. 
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.  Dem. 
My Lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,  
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,  
And I in fury hither followed them;  
Fair Helena, in fancy followed me.  
But my good Lord, I wots not by what power.  
(But by some power it is) my l●  
To Hermia (melted as the snow)  
Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,  
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 betrothed, ere I see Hermia,  
But like a sickness did I loath this food,  
But as in health, come to my natural taste,  
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,  
And will for evermore be true to it.  Thes. 
Fair Lovers, you are fortunately met;  
Of this discourse we shall hear more anon.  
Egeus, I will overbeare 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 Hippolitae.  Exit Duke and Lords. Dem. 
These things seem small & undistinguishable,  
Like fare off mountains turned into Clouds.  Her. 
Methinks I see these things with parted eye,  
When every things seems double.  Hel. 
So methinks:  
And I have found Demetrius, like a jewel,  
Mine own, and not mine own.  Dem. 
It seems to me,  
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think,  
The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?  Her. 
Yea, and my Father.  Hel. 
And Hippolitae.  Lys. 
And he bid us follow to the Temple.  Dem. 
Why then we are awake; let's follow him, and by the way let us recount our dreams.  Bottom wakes. Exit Lovers. Clo. 
When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most fair Pyramus. hay 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 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 ballet of this dream, it shall be called Bottoms 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. Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starveling. Quin. 
Have you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come home yet?  Staru. 
He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he i● transported.  This. 
If he come not, than the play is marred. It goes not forward, doth it?  Quin. 
It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus but he.  This. 
No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens.  Quin. 
Yea, and the best person too, and he is a very Paramour, for a sweet voice.  This. 
You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God bless us) a thing of nought.  Enter Snug the joiner. Snug. 
Masters, the Duke is coming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.  This. 
O sweet bully Bottom: thus hath he lost sixpences a day, during his life; he could not have scaped sixpence a day. And 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. Bot. 
Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?  Quin. 
Bottom, o most courageous day! O most happy hour!  Bot. 
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 as it fell out.  Qu. 
Let us hear, sweet Bottom.  Bot. 
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 over his part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred: In any case let Thisbe 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.  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords. Hip. 
'Tis strange my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.  The. 
More strange than true. I never may believe  
These antic fables, nor these Fairy toys,  
Lovers and mad men have such seething brains,  
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more  
Then cool reason ever comprehends.  
The Lunatic, the Lover, and the Poet,  
Are of imagination all compact.  
One sees more devils then vast hell can hold;  
That is the mad man. The Lover, all as frantic,  
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.  
The Poet's eye in a 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 air 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?  Hip. 
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.  Enter lovers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena. The. 
here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth:  
joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days  
Of love accompany your hearts.  Lys. 
More than to us, wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed.  The. 
Come now, what masks, what dances shall we have,  
To wear away this long age of three hours,  
Between our after supper, and bedtime?  
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 Egeus.  Ege. 
here mighty Theseus.  The. 
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?  
What mask? What music? How shall we beguile  
The lazy time, if not with some delight?  Ege. 
There is a brief how many sports are rife:  
Make choice of which your Highness will see first.  Lis. 
The battle with the Centaurs to be sung  
By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harp.  The. 
we'll none of that. That have I told my Love  
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.  Lis. 
The riot of the tipsy Bachanals,  
Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?  The. 
That is an old device, and it was played  
When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror.  Lis. 
The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death of learning, late deceased in beggary.  The. 
That is some Satire keen and critical,  
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.  Lis. 
A tedious brief Scene of young Pyramus,  
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.  The. 
Merry and tragical? Tedious, and brief? That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord?  Ege. 
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 metrie tears, the passion of loud laughter  
Never shed.  Thes. 
What are they that do play it?  Ege. 
Hard handed men, that work in Athens here,  
Which never laboured in their minds till now;  
And now have toiled their unbreathed memories  
With this same play, against your nuptial.  The. 
And we will hear it.  Phi. 
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 stretched, and con with cruel pain,  
To do you service.  Thes. 
I will hear that play. For never any thing  
Can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.  
Go bring them in, and take your places, Ladies.  Hip. 
I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged;  
And duty in his service perishing.  Thes. 
Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.  Hip. 
He says, they can do nothing in this kind.  Thes. 
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 picked 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.  Egeus. 
So please your Grace, the Prologue is addressed.  Duke. 
Let him approach.  Flor. Trum. Enter the Prologue. Quince. Pro. 
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 content 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.  Thes. 
This fellow doth not stand upon points.  Lys. 
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.  Hip. 
Indeed he hath played on his Prologue, like a child on a Recorder, a sound, but not in government.  Thes. 
His speech was like a tangled chain: nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?  Tawyer with a Trumpet before them. Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and lion. Prol. 
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, Thisbe is certain.  
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present  
Wall, that vile wall, which did these lovers sunder:  
And through walls chink (poor souls) they are content  
To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.  
This man, with Lantern, 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 grizy beast (which Lion hight by name)  
The trusty Thisbe, coming first by night,  
Did scar 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 Thisbies' Mantle slain;  
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,  
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast,  
And Thisbe, 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.  Exit all but Wall. Thes. 
I wonder if the Lion be to speak.  Deme. 
No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses do.  Exit Lion, Thisbie, and Moonshine. Wall. 
In this same Interlude, it doth befall,  
That I, one Snowt (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 Thisbie  
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.  Thes. 
Would you desire Lime and Hair to speak better?  Deme. 
It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard discourse, my Lord.  Thes. 
Pyramus draws near the Wall, silence.  Enter Pyramus. Pir. 
O grim looked 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 Thisbies' promise is forgot.  
And thou o brickwall, thou sweet and lovely brickwall,  
That stands between her father's ground and mine,  
Thou brickwall, o brickwall, o sweet and lovely brickwall,  
Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eine.  
Thanks courteous brickwall. jove shield thee well for this.  
But what see I? No Thisbie do I see.  
O wicked brickwall, through whom I see no bliss,  
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me.  Thes. 
The brickwall methinks being sensible, should curse again.  Pir. 
No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiving me,  
Is Thisbies' cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy  
Her through the brickwall. You shall see it will fall.  Enter Thisbie. 
Pat as I told you; yonder she comes.  This. 
O brickwall, full often hast thou heard my moans,  
For parting my fair Pyramus, and me.  
My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones;  
Thy stones with Lime and Hair knit up in thee.  Pyra. 
I see a voice; now will I to the chink,  
To spy and I can hear my Thisbies' face. Thisbie?  This. 
My Love thou art, my Love I think.  Pir. 
Think what thou wilt, I am thy Lover's grace,  
And like Limander am I trusty still.  This. 
And like Helen till the Fates me kill.  Pir. 
Not Shafalus to Procrus, was so true.  This. 
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.  Pir. 
O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.  This. 
I kiss the walls hole, not your lips at all.  Pir. 
Wilt thou at Ninnies tomb meet me strait way?  This. 
Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.  Wall. 
Thus have I Wall, my part discharged so;  
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.  Exit Clow. Du. 
Now is the moral down between the two Neighbours.  Dem. 
No remedy my Lord, when Walls are so wilful, to hear without warning.  Dut. 
This is the silliest stuff that ere I heard.  Du. 
The best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.  Dut. 
It must be your imagination then, & not theirs.  Duk. 
If we imagine no worse of them then 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 of my life.  Du. 
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.  Dem. 
The very best at a beast, my Lord, that ere I saw.  Lis. 
This Lion is a very Fox for his valour.  Du. 
True, and a Goose for his discretion.  Dem. 
Not so my Lord: for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the Fox carries the Goose.  Du. 
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 hearken to the Moon.  Moon. 
This Lantern doth the horned Moon present.  De. 
He should have worn the horns on his head.  Du. 
He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible, within the circumference.  Moon. 
This lantern doth the horned Moon present: Myself, the man i' th' Moon doth seem to be.  Du. 
This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should be put into the Lantern. How is it else the man i' th' Moon?  Dem. 
He dares not come there for the candle.  
For you see, it is already in snuff.  Dut. 
I am weary of this Moon; would he would change.  Du. 
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.  Lys. 
Proceed Moon.  Moon. 
All that I have to say, is to tell you, that the Lantern is the Moon; I, the man in the Moon; this thorn bush, my thorn bush; and this dog, my dog.  Dem. 
Why all these should be in the Lantern: for they are in the Moon. But silence, here comes Thisbe.  Enter Thisbe. This. 
This is old Ninnies tomb: where is my love?  lion. 
Oh.  The Lion roars, Thisbe runs off. Dem. 
Well roared Lion.  Du. 
Well run Thisbe.  Dut. 
Well shone Moon.  
Truly the Moon shines with a good grace.  Du. 
Well mouzed Lion.  Dem. 
And then came Pyramus.  Lys. 
And so the Lion vanished.  Enter Pyramus. Pyr. 
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams,  
I thank thee Moon, for shining now so bright:  
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beams,  
I trust to taste of truest Thisbies' 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 stained with blood!  
Approach you Furies fell:  
O Fates! come, come: Cut thread and thrum,  
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.  Du. 
This passion, and the death of a dear friend,  
Would go near to make a man look sad.  Dut. 
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.  Pir. 
O wherefore Nature, didst thou Lions frame?  
Since Lion vild hath here deflowered my dear:  
Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame  
That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer.  
Come tears, confound: Out sword, and wound  
The pap of Pyramus:  
I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;  
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,  
Now dye, die, die, die, die.  Dem. 
No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one.  Lis. 
Less than an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing.  Du. 
With the help of a Surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an Ass.  Dut. 
How chance Moonshine is gone before?  
Thisbe comes back, and finds her Lover.  Enter Thisbe. Duke. 
She will find him by starlight.  
here she comes, and her passion ends the play.  Dut. 
Me thinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief.  Dem. 
A Moth will turn the balance, which Pyramus which Thisbe is the better.  Lys. 
She hath spied him already, with those sweet eyes.  Dem. 
And thus she means, videlicit.  This. 
Asleep my Love? What, dead my Dove?  
O Pyramus arise:  
Speak. Speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb  
Must cover thy sweet eyes.  
These Lily Lips, this cherry nose,  
These yellow Cowslip cheeks  
Are gone, are gone: Lovers make moon:  
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:  
And farewell friends, thus Thisbie ends;  
Adieu, adieu, adieu.  Duk. 
Moonshine & Lion are left to bury the dead.  Deme. 
I, and Wall too.  Bot. 
No, I 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?  Duk. 
No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and hung himself in Thisbies' garter, it would have been a fine Tragedy: and so it is truly, and very notably discharged. But come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.  
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.  
Lovers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.  
I fear we shall out-sleepe the coming morn,  
As much as we this night have overwatcht.  
This palpable gross play hath well beguiled  
The heavy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed.  
A fortnight hold we this solemnity.  
In nightly Revels; and new jollity.  Exeunt. Enter Pucke. Puck 
Now the hungry Lions rores,  
And the Wolf beholds the Moon:  
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,  
All with weary task fore-done.  
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 spirit,  
In the Churchway 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 hallowed house▪  
I am sent with broom before,  
To sweep the dust behind the door.  Enter King and Queen of Fairies, with their train. Ob. 
Through the house give glimmering light,  
By the dead and drowsy fire,  
Every Elf and Fairy spirit,  
Hop as light as bird from brier,  
And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie.  Tita. 
First rehearse this song by rote,  
To each word a warbling note.  
Hand in hand, with Fairy grace,  
Will we sing and bless this place.  

The Song.  
Now until the break of day,  
Through this house each Fairy stray.  
To the best Bridebed 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 gate,  
And each several chamber bless,  
Through this Palace with sweet peace,  
Ever shall in safety rest,  
And the owner of it blessed.  
Trip away, make no stay;  
Meet me all by break of day.   Robin. 
If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this (and all is mended)  
That you have but slumbered here,  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding but a dream,  
Centles, do not reprehend.  
If you pardon, we will mend.  
And as I am an honest Pucke,  
If we have unearned luck,  
Now to scape the Serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends ere long:  
Else the Pucke a liar call.  
So good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends.   
FINIS.   

The Merchant of Venice.  

Actus primus.  Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio. Anthonio. 
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 borne,  
I am to learn: and such a Want-wit sadness makes of me,  
That I have much ado to know myself.  Sal. 
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 over-peere the petty Traffiquers  
That curtsy to them, do them reverence  
As they fly by them with their woven wings.  Salar. 
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 peers, and roads:  
And every object that might make me fear  
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt  
Would make me sad.  Sal. 
My wind cooling my broth,  
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought  
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.  
I should not see the sandy hourglass run,  
But I should think of shallows, and of flats,  
And see my wealthy Andrew docks 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 strait of dangerous rocks,  
Which touching but my gentle Vessels 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 bechaunced would make me sad▪  
But tell not me, I know Anthonio  
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.  Anth. 
Believe me no, I thank my fortune for it,  
My ventures are not in one bottom trufted,  
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate  
Upon the fortune of this present year:  
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.  Sola. 
Why then you are in love.  Anth. 
Fie, fie.  Sola. 
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 bagpiper.  
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. Sola. 
here comes Bassanio,  
Your most noble Kinsman,  
Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Farewell,  
We leave you now with better company.  Sala. 
I would have stayed till I had made you merry,  
If worthier friends had not prevented me.  Ant. 
Your worth is very dear in my regard.  
I take it your own business calls on you,  
And you embrace th' occasion to departed.  Sal. 
Good morrow my good Lords.  Bass. 
Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?  
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?  Sal. 
we'll make our leisures to attend on yours.  Exeunt Salarino, and Solanio. Lor. 
My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Anthonio  
We two will leave you, but at dinner time  
I pray you have in mind where we must meet.  Bass. 
I will not fail you.  Grat. 
You look not well signior Anthonio,  
You have too much respect upon the world:  
They lose it that do buy it with much care,  
Believe me you are marvellously changed.  Ant. 
I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,  
A stage, where every man must play a part,  
And mine a sad one.  Grati. 
Let me play the fool,  
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,  
And let my Liver rather heat with wine,  
Then my heart cool with mortifying groans.  
Why should a man whose blood is warm within,  
Sat like his Grandsire, cut in Alabaster?  
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice  
By being peevish? I tell thee what Anthonio,  
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 dressed in an opinion  
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,  
As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,  
And when I open my lips, let no dog bark.  
O my Anthonio, 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 dam those ears  
Which hearing them would call their brother's fools:  
I'll tell thee more of this another time.  
But fish not with this melancholy bait  
For this fool Gudgin, this opinion:  
Come good Lorenzo, fareyewell a while,  
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.  Lor. 
Well, we will leave you then till dinner time.  
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,  
For Gratiano never let's me speak.  Gra. 
Well, keep me company but two years more,  
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.  Ant. 
Far you well, I'll grow a talker for this gear.  Gra. 
Thanks i'faith, for silence is only commendable  
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.  Exit. Ant. 
It is that any thing now.  Bas. 
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice, his reasons are two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, & when you have them they are not worth the search.  An. 
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?  Bas. 
'tis not unknown to you Anthonio  
How much I have disabled mine estate,  
By something showing a more swelling port  
Then 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 gauged: to you Anthonio  
I own 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.  An. 
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 unlocked to your occasions.  Bass. 
In my school days, when I had lost one shaft  
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight  
The selfsame 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 own you much, and like a wilful youth,  
That which I own 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.  An. 
You know me well, and herein spend but time  
To wind about my love with circumstance,  
And out of doubt you do more wrong  
In making question of my uttermost  
Then 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 pressed unto it: therefore speak.  Bass. 
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 undervallewd  
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 Cholchos strand,  
And many jasons' come in quest of her.  
O my Anthonio, 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.  Anth. 
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 racked 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. Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa. Portia. 
By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a weary of this great world.  Ner. 
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 small happiness therefore to be seated in the mean, superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency life's longer.  Portia. 
Good sentences, and well pronounced.  Ner. 
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 Pallaees: it is a good Divine that follows his own instructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, then be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching: the brain may device laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree, such a hare is madness the youth, to skip over the meshes of good counsel the cripple; but this reason is not in 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: it is not hard Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none.  Ner. 
Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death have good inspirations, therefore the lottery that he hath device 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 you shall rightly love: but what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these Princely suitors that are already come?  Por. 
I pray thee over-name them, and as thou namest them, I will describe them, and according to my description level at my affection.  Ner. 
First there is the Neopolitan Prince.  Por. 
I 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 afraid my Lady his mother played false with a Smyth.  Ner. 
Than is there the County Palentine.  Por. 
He doth nothing but frown (as who should say, and 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 to be married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, then to either of these: God defend me from these two.  Ner. 
How say you by the French Lord, monsieur Le Boon?  Pro. 
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 Neopolitans, a better bad habit of frowning then the Count Palentine, he is every man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he falls strait 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 should never requite him.  Ner. 
What say you then to Fauconbridge, the young Baron of England?  Por. 
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 & swear that I have a poor pennie-worth 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 behaviour every where.  Ner. 
What think you of the other Lord his neighbour?  Por. 
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.  Ner. 
How like you the young german, the Duke of Saxonies' Nephew?  Por. 
Very vildly in the morning when he is sober, and most vildly 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.  Ner. 
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.  Por. 
Therefore for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of Reinish-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 Nerrissa ere I will be married to a sponge.  Ner. 
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 then your Father's imposition, depending on the Caskets.  Por. 
If I live to be as old as Sibilla, I will dye 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 wish them a fair departure.  Ner. 
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 Mountferrat?  Por. 
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think, so was he called.  Ner. 
True Madam, he of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair Lady.  Por. 
I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise.  Enter a Servingman. Ser. 
The four Strangers seek you Madam to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fift, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the Prince his Master will be here to night.  Por. 
If I could bid the fift welcome with so good 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 then wive me. Come Nerrissa, sirrah go before; whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.  Exeunt. Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew. Shy. 
Three thousand ducats, well.  Bass. 
I sir, for three months.  Shy. 
For three months, well.  Bass. 
For the which, as I told you,  
Anthonio shall be bound.  Shy. 
Anthonio shall become bound, well.  Bass. 
May you stead me? Will you pleasure me?  
Shall I know your answer.  Shy. 
Three thousand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound.  Bass. 
Your answer to that.  Shy. 
Anthonio is a good man.  Bass. 
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary.  Shy. 
Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me that he is suffient, yet his means are in supposition: he hath an Argosy bound to Tripoli, another to the Indies, I understand moreover upon the Ryalta, 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 thiefs, and land thiefs, 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.  Bas. 
Be assured you may.  Iew. 
I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured, I will bethink me, may I speak with Anthonio?  Bass. 
If it please you to dine with us.  Iew. 
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 Ryalta, who is he comes here?  Enter Anthonio. Bass. 
This is signior Anthonio.  Iew. 
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-worne thrift,  
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my Tribe  
If I forgive him.  Bass. 
Shylock, do you hear.  Shy. 
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? Rest you fair good signior,  
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.  Ant. 
Shylocke, albeit 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 possessed  
How much he would?  Shy. 
I, I, three thousand ducats  Ant. 
And for three months.  Shy. 
I had forgot, three months, you told me so.  
Well then, your bond: and let me see, but hear you,  
Methoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow  
Upon advantage.  Ant. 
I do never use it.  Shy. 
When jacob grazed his Uncle Laban's sheep,  
This jacob from our holy Abram was  
(As his wife mother wrought in his behalf)  
The third possesser; I, he was the third.  Ant. 
And what of him, did he take interest?  Shy. 
No, not take interest, not as you would say  
Directly interest, mark what jacob did,  
When Laban and himself were compremyzed  
That all the canelings which were streaked and pied  
Should fall as jacob's hire, the Ewes being rank,  
In end of Autumn turned to the Rams,  
And when the work of generation was  
Between these woolly breeders in the act,  
The skilful shepherd piled me certain wands,  
And in the doing of the deed of kind,  
He stuck them up before the fulsome Ewes,  
Who than conceiving, did in eaning time  
Fall particoloured lambs, and those were jacob's.  
This was a way to thrive, and he was blessed:  
And thrift is blessing if men steal it not.  Ant. 
This was a venture sir that jacob served for,  
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,  
But swayed and fashioned by the hand of heaven.  
Was this inserted to make interest good?  
Or is your gold and silver Ewes and Rams?  Shy. 
I cannot tell, I make it breed as fast,  
But note me signior.  Ant. 
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.  Shy. 
Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum.  
Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.  Ant. 
Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?  Shy. 
Signior Anthonio, 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 patiented shrug,  
(For sufferance is the badge of all our Tribe.)  
You call me misbeleever, cutthroat 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,  
Shylocke, we would have monies, you say so:  
You that did void your rheum upon my beard,  
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur  
Over your threshold, monies is your suit.  
What should I say to you? Should I not say,  
Hath a dog money? Is it possible  
A cur should 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 spurned me such a day; another time  
You called me dog: and for these courtesies  
I'll lend you thus much monies.  Ant. 
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 of barren mettle of his friend?  
But lend it rather to thine enemy,  
Who if he break, thou mayst with better face  
Exact the penalties.  Shy. 
Why look you how you storm,  
I would be friends with you, and have your love,  
Forget the shames that you have stained me with,  
Supply your present wants, and take no doit  
Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me,  
This is kind I offer.  Bass. 
This were kindness.  Shy. 
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  
Expressed 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 it pleaseth me.  Ant. 
Content infaith, I'll seal to such a bond,  
And say there is much kindness in the Iew.  Bass. 
You shall not seal to such a bond for me,  
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.  Ant. 
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.  Shy. 
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.  Ant. 
Yes Shylocke, I will seal unto this bond.  Shy. 
Then meet me forthwith at the Notaries,  
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'll be with you.  Exit. Ant. 
Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turn Christian, he grows kind.  Bass. 
I like not fair teams, and a villain's mind.  Ant. 
Come on, in this there can be no dismay,  
My Ships come home a month before the day.  Exeunt.  

Actus Secundus.  Enter Morochus a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their train. Flo. Cornets. Mor. 
Mislike me not for my complexion,  
The shadowed livery of the burnished sun,  
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.  
Bring me the fairest creature Northward borne,  
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the ysicles,  
And let us make ineision for your love,  
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.  
I tell thee Lady this aspect of mine  
Hath feared the valiant, (by my love I swear)  
The best regarded Virgins of our Clime  
Have loved it to: I would not change this hue,  
Except to steal your thoughts my gentle Queen.  Por. 
In terms of choice I am not solely led  
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes:  
Besides, the lottrie of my destiny  
Bore 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) than stood as fair  
As any comer I have looked on yet  
For my affection.  Mor. 
Even for that I thank you,  
Therefore I pray you lead me to the Caskets  
To try my fortune: By this Sy●tas●  
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian Prince  
That won three fields of Sultan-Solyman,  
I would ore-stare 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 rores for pray  
To win the 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 rage,  
And so may I, blind fortune leading me  
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,  
And die with grieving.  Port. 
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.  Mor. 
Nor will not, come bring me unto my chance.  Por. 
First forward to the temple, after dinner  
Your hazard shall be made.  Mor. 
Good fortune then,  Cornets. 
To make me blessed or cursed'st among men.  Exeunt. Enter the Clown alone. Clo. 
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, jobbe, Launcelet jobbe, good Launcelet, ongood jobbe, or good Launcelet jobbe, use your legs, take the start, run away: my conscience says no; take heed honest Launcelet, take heed honest jobbe, or as aforesaid honest Launcelet jobbe, do not run, scorn running with thy heels; well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack, fia 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 Launcelet, being an honest man's soon, or rather an honest woman's son, for indeed my Father did something smack, something grow too; he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience says Lancelet budge not, budge says the siend, 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 incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is 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 commandment, I will run.  Enter old Gobbo with a Basket. Gob. 
Master youngman, you I pray you, which is the way to Master Jews?  Lan. 
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.  Gob. 
Master young Gentleman, I pray you which is the way to Master Jews.  Lan. 
Turn upon 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 jews house.  Gob. 
Be God's santies 'twill be a hard way to hit, can you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwells with him, dwell with him or no.  Laun. 
Talk you of young Master Launcelet, mark me now, now will I raise the waters; talk you of young Master Launcelet?  Gob. 
No Master sir, but a poor man's son, his Father though I say't is an honest exceeding poor man, and God be thanked well to live.  Lan. 
Well, let his Father be what a will, we talk of young Master Launcelet.  Gob. 
Your worship's friend and Launcelet.  Laun. 
But I pray you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelet.  Gob. 
Of Launcelet, an't please your mastership.  Lan. 
Ergo Master Lancelet, talk not of master Lancelet Father, for the young gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sister's three, & such branches of learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.  Gob. 
Marry God forbidden, the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.  Lan. 
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovell-post, a staff or a prop: do you know me Father.  Gob. 
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.  Lan. 
Do you not know me Father.  Gob. 
Alack sir I am sand blind, I know you not.  Lan. 
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 in the end truth will out.  Gob. 
Pray you sir stand up, I am sure you are not Lancelet my boy.  Lan. 
Pray you let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing: I am Lancelet your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.  Gob. 
I cannot think you are my son.  Lan. 
I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Lancelet the jews man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother.  Gob. 
Her name is Margery indeed, I'll be sworn if thou be Lancelet, 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 philhorse has on his tail.  Lan. 
It should seem then that Dobbins tail grows backward. I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I lost saw him.  Gob. 
Lord how art thou changed: how dost thou and thy Master agree, I have brought him a present; how 'gree you now?  Lan. 
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 a follower or two. Bass. 
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.  Lan. 
To him Father.  Gob. 
God bless your worship.  Bass. 
Gramercy, wouldst thou aught with me.  Gob. 
Here's my son sir, a poor boy.  Lan. 
Not a poor boy sir, but the rich Jews man that would sir as my Father shall specify.  Gob. 
He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serve.  Lan. 
Indeed the short and the long is, I serve the jew, and have a desire as my Father shall specify.  Gob. 
His Master and he (saving your worship's reverence) are scarce caterconns.  Lan. 
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 frutifie unto you.  Gob. 
I have here a dish of Doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is.  Lan. 
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.  Bass. 
One speak for both, what would you?  Lan. 
Serve you sir.  Gob. 
That is the very defect of the matter sir.  Bass. 
I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy suit,  
Shylocke thy Master spoke with me this day,  
And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment  
To leave a rich Jews service, to become  
The follower of so poor a Gentleman,  Clo. 
The old proverb is very well parted between my Master Shylocke and you sir, you have the grace of God sir, and he hath enough.  Bass. 
Thou speakest 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.  Clo. 
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 too, here's a simple line of life, here's a small trifle of wives, alas, fifteen wives is nothing, a leaven 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 featherbed, 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.  Exit Clown. Bass. 
I pray thee good Leonardo think on this,  
These things being bought and orderly bestowed  
Return in haste, for I do feast to night  
My best esteemed acquaintance, hie thee go.  Leon. 
My best endeavours shall be done herein.  Exit. Le. Enter Gratiano. Gra. 
Where's your Master.  Leon. 
Yonder sir he walks.  Gra. 
Signior Bassanio.  Bas. 
Gratiano.  Gra. 
I have a suit to you.  Bass. 
You have obtained it.  Gra. 
You must not deny me, I must go with you to Belmont.  Bass. 
Why then you must: but hear thee Gratiano,  
Thou art to wild, to rude, and bold of voice,  
Parts that become thee happily enough,  
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;  
But where they are 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 behaviour  
I be misconsterd in the place I go to,  
And lose my hopes.  Gra. 
Signior Bassanio, hear me,  
If I do not put on a sober habit,  
Talk with respect, and swear but now and than,  
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.  Bas. 
Well, we shall see your bearing.  Gra. 
Nay but I bar to night, you shall not gauge me  
By what we do to night.  Bas. 
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 far you well,  
I have some business.  Gra. 
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest,  
But we will visit you at supper time.  Exeunt. Enter jessica and the Clown. Ies. 
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 far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,  
And Lancelet, 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 talk with thee.  Clo. 
Adieu, tears exhibit my tongue, most beautiful Pagan, most sweet jew, if a Christian do not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived; but adieu, these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit: adieu.  Exit. Ies. 
Farewell good Lancelet.  
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. Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Slarino, and Salanio. Lor. 
Nay, we will slink away in supper time,  
Disguise us at my lodging, and return all in an hour.  Gra. 
We have not made good preparation.  Sal. 
We have not spoke us yet of Torchbearers.  Sol. 
'Tis vile unless it may be quaintly ordered,  
And better in my mind not undertook.  Lor. 
'Tis now but four of clock, we have two hours  
To furnish us; friend Lancelet what's the news.  Enter Lancelet with a Letter. Lan. 
And it shall please you to break up this, shall it seem to signify.  Lor. 
I know the hand, in faith 'tis a fair hand  
And whiter than the paper it writ on,  
I the fair hand that writ.  Gra. 
Love's news in faith:  Lan. 
By your leave sir.  Lor. 
Whither goest thou?  Lan. 
Marry sir to bid my old Master the jew to sup to night with my new Master the Christian.  Lor. 
Hold here, take this, tell gentle jessica  
I will not fail her, speak it privately:  
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Mask to night,  
I am provided of a Torchbearer.  Exit. Clown. Sal. 
I marry, i'll be gone about it straight.  Sol. 
And so will I.  Lor. 
Meet me and Gratiano at Gratianos' lodging  
Some hour hence.  Sal. 
'Tis good we do so.  Exit. Gra. 
Was not that Letter from fair jessica?  Lor. 
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 furnished with,  
What Pages suit she hath in readiness:  
If ere 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 Torchbearer.  Exit. Enter jew, and his man that was the Clown. Iew. 
Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,  
The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;  
What jessica, thou shalt not gourmandize  
As thou hast done with me: what jessica?  
And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out.  
Why jessica I say.  Clo. 
Why jessica.  Shy. 
Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.  Clo. 
Your worship was wont to tell me  
I could do nothing without bidding.  Enter jessica. Ies. 
Call you? what is your will?  Shy. 
I am bid forth to supper jessica,  
There are my Keys: but wherefore should I go?  
I am not bid for love, they flatttr 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.  Clo. 
I beseech you sir go, my young Master  
Doth expect your reproach.  Shy. 
So do I his.  Clo. 
And they have conspired together, I will not say you shall see a Mask, but if you do, than it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on black monday last, at six a clock i'th' morning, falling out that year on ashwensday was four year in th' afternoon.  Shy. 
What are their masks? hear you me jessica,  
Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum  
And the vile squealing of the wry-necked Fife,  
Clamber not you up to the casements then,  
Nor thrust your head into the public street  
To gaze on Christian fools with varnished faces:  
But stop my houses 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.  Clo. 
I will go before sir.  
Mistress look out at window for all this;  
There will come a Christian by,  
Will be worth a jews eye.  Shy. 
What says that fool of Hagars' offspring? ha'.  Ies. 
His words were farewell mistress, nothing else.  Shy. 
The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder:  
Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleeps by day  
More than the wilde-cat: drones hive not with me,  
Therefore I part with him, and part with him  
To one that I would have him help to waste  
His borrowed 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 stolen in thrifty mind.  Exit. Ies. 
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crossed,  
I have a Father, you a daughter lost.  Exit. Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino. Gra. 
This is the penthouse under which Lorenzo  
Desired us to make a stand.  Sal. 
His hour is almost past.  Gra. 
And it is marvel he out-dwels his hour,  
For lovers ever run before the clock.  Sal. 
O ten times faster Venus' Pigeons fly  
To steal love's bonds new made, than they are wont  
To keep obliged faith unforfaited.  Gra. 
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 place them first: all things that are,  
Are with more spirit chased then enjoyed.  
How like a younger or a prodigal  
The skarfed bark puts from her native bay,  
Hudged and embraced by the strumpet wind:  
How like a prodigal doth she return  
With ouer-withered ribs and ragged sails,  
Lean, rent, and beggared by the strumpet wind?  Enter Lorenzo. Salino. 
here comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter.  Lor. 
Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode,  
Not I, but my affairs have made you wait:  
When you shall please to play the thiefs for wives  
I'll watch as long for you then: approach  
Here dwells my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?  jessica above. jess. 
Who are you? tell me for more certainty,  
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.  Lor. 
Lorenzo, and thy Love..  Ies. 
Lorenzo certain, and my love indeed,  
For who love I so much? and now who knows  
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?  Lor. 
Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.  Ies. 
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.  Lor. 
Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.  Ies. 
What, must I hold a Candle to my shames?  
They in themselves goodsooth are too too light.  
Why, 'tis an office of discovery Love,  
And I should be obscured.  Lor. 
So you are sweet,  
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy: but come at once,  
For the close night doth play the runaway,  
And we are stayed for at Bassanio's feast.  Ies. 
I will make fast the doors and gild myself  
With some more ducats, and be with you strait.  Gra. 
Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew.  Lor. 
Beshrew me but I love her hearty.  
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. 
What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,  
Our masking mates by this time for us stay.  Exit. Enter Anthonio. Ant. 
Who's there?  Gra. 
Signior Anthonio?  Ant. 
Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?  
'Tis nine a clock, our friends all stay for you,  
No mask to night, the wind is come about,  
Bassanio presently will go aboard,  
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.  Gra. 
I am glad on't, I desire no more delight  
Then to be under sail, and gone to night.  Exeunt. Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their trains. Por. 
Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover  
The several Caskets to this noble Prince:  
Now make your choice.  Mor. 
The first of gold, who this inscription bears,  
Who chooseth me, shall gain what 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?  
How shall I know if I do choose the right.  Por. 
The one of them contains my picture Prince,  
If you choose that, than I am yours withal.  Mor. 
Some God direct my judgement, 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 forlead?  
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 Morocho,  
And weigh thy value with an even hand,  
If thou beestrated by thy estimation  
Thou dost deserve enough, and yet enough  
May not extend so fare 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 strayed no farther, 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 Hircanion deserts, and the vast wilds  
Of wide Arabia are as through fares 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 searecloath in the obscure grave:  
Or shall I think in Silver she's immured  
Being ten times undervalved 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 insculpt 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.  Por. 
There take it Prince, and if my form lie there  
Then I am yours.  Mor. 
O hell! what have we here, a carrion death,  
Within whose empty eye there is a written scroll;  
I'll read the writing.  
All that glisters is not gold,  
Often have you heard that cold;  
Many a man his life hath sold  
But my outside to behold;  
Guilded timber do worms enfold:  
Had you been as wise as bold,  
Young in limbs, in judgement old,  
Your answer had not been inscrold,  
Far you well, your suit is cold,  Mor. 
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 loser's part.  Exit. Por. 
A gentle riddance: draw the curtains, go:  
Let all of his complexion choose me so.  Exeunt. Enter Salarino and Solanio. Flo. Cornets. Sal. 
Why man I saw Bassanio under sail,  
With him is Gratiano gone along;  
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.  Sol. 
The villain jew with outcries raised the Duke.  
Who went with him to search Bassanios' ship.  Sal. 
He comes too late, the ship was undersaile;  
But there the Duke was given to understand  
That in a Gondilo were seen together  
Lorenzo and his amorous jessica.  
Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke  
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.  Sol. 
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.  Sal. 
Why all the boys in Venice follow him,  
Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.  Sol. 
Let good Anthonio look he keep his day  
Or he shall pay for this.  Sal. 
Marry well remembered,  
I reasoned 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 Anthonio when he told me,  
And wished in silence that it were not his.  Sol. 
Yo were best to tell Anthonio what you hear.  
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.  Sal. 
A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,  
I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part,  
Bassanio told him he would make some speed  
Of his return: he answered, do not so,  
Slubber not business for my sake Bassanio,  
But stay the very riping of the time,  
And for the jews 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 Bassanios' hand, and so they parted.  Sol. 
I think he only love's the world for him,  
I pray thee let us go and find him out  
And quicken his embraced heaviness  
With some delight or other.  Sal. 
Do we so.  Exeunt. Enter Nerrissa and a serviture. Ner. 
Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain straight,  
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,  
And comes to his election presently.  Enter Arragon, his train, and Portia. Flor. Cornets. Por. 
Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince,  
If you choose that wherein I am contained,  
Strait shall our nuptial rights be solemnised:  
But if thou fail, without more speech my Lord,  
You must be gone from hence immediately.  Ar. 
I am enjoind 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.  Por. 
To these injunctions every one doth swear  
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.  Ar. 
And so have I addressed me, fortune now  
To my hearts 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 th' 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 weare an undeserved dignity:  
O that estates, degrees, and offices,  
Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that clear honour  
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer;  
How many than should cover that stand bare?  
How many be commanded that command?  
How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned  
From the true seed of honour? And how much honour  
Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times,  
To be new varnished: 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.  Por. 
Too long a pause for that which you find there.  Ar. 
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?  Por. 
To offend and judge are distinct offices,  
And of opposed natures.  Ar. 
What is here?  
The fire seven times tried this,  
Seven times tried that iudement is,  
That did never choose amiss,  
Some there be that shadows kiss,  
Such have but a shadow's bliss:  
There be fools alive Iwis  
Silvered 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.  Ar. 
Still more fool I shall appear  
By the time I linger here,  
With one fool's head I came to woe,  
But I go away with two.  
Sweet adieu, I'll keep my oath,  
Patiently to bear my wrath.  Por. 
Thus hath the candle singed the moth:  
O these deliberate fools when they do choose,  
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.  Ner. 
The ancient saying is no heresy,  
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.  Por. 
Come draw the curtain Nerrissa.  Enter Messenger. Mes. 
Where is my Lady?  Por. 
Here, what would my Lord?  Mes. 
Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate  
A young Venetian, one that comes before  
To signify th' 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.  Por. 
No more I pray thee, I am half a-feard  
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,  
Thou spendest such high-day wit in praising him:  
Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see  
Quick Cupid's Post, that comes so mannerly.  Ner. 
Bassanio Lord, love if thy will it be.  Exeunt.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Solanio and Salarino. Sol. 
Now, what news on the Rialto?  Sal. 
Why yet it life's there unchecked, that Anthonio hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the narrow Seas; the goodwin's I think they call the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship, lie buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman of her word.  Sol. 
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 Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; o that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!  Sal. 
Come, the full stop.  Sol. 
Ha', what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost a ship.  Sal. 
I would it might prove the end of his losses.  Sol. 
Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the iikenes of a Iew. How now Shylocke, what news among the Merchants?  Enter Shylocke. Shy. 
You knew none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter's flight.  Sal. 
That's certain, I for my part knew the Tailor that made the wings she flew withal.  Sol. 
And Shylocke for his own part knew the bird was fledged, and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.  Shy. 
She is damned for it.  Sal. 
That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.  Shy. 
My own flesh and blood to rebel.  Sol. 
Out upon it old carrion, rebels it at these years.  Shy. 
I say my daughter is my flesh and blood.  Sal. 
There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, then between jet and ivory, more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenish: but tell us, do you hear whether Anthonio have had any loss at sea or no?  Shy. 
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 curtsy, let him look to his bond.  Sal. 
Why I am sure if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh, what's that good for?  Shy. 
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 the 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 Sommmer 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 villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.  Enter a man from Anthonio. 
Gentlemen, my master Anthonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.  Sal. 
We have been up and down to seek him.  Enter Tubal. Sol. 
Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Iew.  Exeunt Gentlemen. Shy. 
How now Tubal, what news from Genowa? hast thou found my daughter?  Tub. 
I often came where I did hear ofster, but cannot find her.  Shy. 
Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Frankford, 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 care: would she were hearst at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin: no news of them, why so? and I know not how much is 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 ill luck stirring but what lights a my shoulders, no sighs but a my breathing, no tears but a my shedding.  Tub. 
Yes, other men have ill luck too, Anthonio as I heard in Genowa?  Shy. 
What, what, what, ill luck, ill luck.  Tub. 
Hath an Argosy cast away coming from Tripoli.  Shy. 
I thank God, I thank God, is it true, is it true?  Tub. 
I spoke with some of the Sailors that escaped the wrack.  Shy. 
I thank thee good Tubal, good news, good news: ha', ha', here in Genowa.  Tub. 
Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one night fourscore ducats.  Shy. 
Thou stickest a dagger in me, I shall never see my gold again, fourscore ducats at asitting, fourscore ducats.  Tub. 
There came diverse of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.  Shy, 
I am very glad of it, i'll plague him, i'll torture him, I am glad of it,  Tub. 
One of them shown me a ring that he had of your daughter for a Monkey.  Shy. 
Out upon her, thou torturest me Tubal, it was my Turkeys, I had it of Leah when I was a Bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of Monkeys.  Tub. 
But Anthonio is certainly undone.  Shy. 
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 Tubal, and meet me at our Synagogue, go good Tubal, at our Synagogue Tubal.  Exeunt. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their train. Por. 
I pray you tarry, pause a day or two  
Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong  
I lose your company; therefore forbear a while,  
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 then I am 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 overlooked me and divided me,  
One half of me is yours, the other half yours,  
Mine own I would say: but of mine then yours,  
And so all yours; O these naughty times  
Puts 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 peise the time,  
To ich it, and to draw it out in length,  
To stay you from election.  Bass. 
Let me choose,  
For as I am, I live upon the rack.  Por. 
Upon the rack Bassanio, then confess  
What treason there is mingled with your love.  Bass. 
None but that ugly treason of mistrust.  
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:  
There may as well be amity and life,  
Between snow and fire, as treason and my love▪  Por. 
I, but I fear you speak upon the rack,  
Where men enforced doth speak any thing.  Bass. 
Promise me life, and i'll confess the truth.  Por. 
Well then, confess and live.  Bass. 
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.  Por. 
Away then, I am locked in one of them,  
If you do love me, you will find me out.  
Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloof,  
Let music sound while he doth make his choice,  
Then if he lose he makes a Swanlike end,  
Fading in music. That the comparison  
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream  
And watery deathbed for him: he may win,  
And what is music than? Than music is  
Even as the flourish, when true subjects how  
To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,  
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,  
That creep into the dreaming bridegrooms ear,  
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes  
With no less presence, but with much more love  
Then 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 th' exploit: Go Hercules,  
Live thou, I live with much more dismay  
I view the fight, than thou that makest the fray.  Here Music. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himself. 

Tell me where is fancy bred,  
Or in the heart, or in the head:  
How begot, how nourished.  
Reply, reply.  
It is engendered in the eyes,  
With gazing fed, and Fancy dies,  
In the cradle where it lies:  
Let us all ring Fancies knell.  
I'll begin it.  
Ding, dung, bell.   All. 
Ding, dung, bell.  Bass. 
So may the outward shows be least themselves  
The world is still deceived with ornament.  
In Law, what Plea so tanted 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 voice 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 searched, 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 makes such wanton gambols with the wind  
Upon supposed fairness, often known  
To be the dowry of a second head,  
The scull that bred them in the Sepulchre.  
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore  
To a most dangerous sea: the beauteous scarf  
Vailing an Indian beauty; In a word,  
The seeming truth which cunning times put on  
To entrap the wisest. Therefore than thou gaudy gold,  
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,  
Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge  
Between man and man: but thou, thou meager lead  
Which rather threatnest than dost promise aught,  
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,  
And here choose I, joy be the consequence.  Por. 
How all the other passions fleet to air,  
As doubtful thoughts, and rash embraced despair:  
And shuddering fear, and greene-eyed jealousy.  
O love be moderate, allay thy ecstasy,  
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess,  
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less,  
For fear I surfeit.  Bas. 
What find I here?  
Fair Portia's counterfeit. What demie God  
Hath come so near creation? move these eyes?  
Or whether riding on the balls of mine  
Seem they in motion? Here are severed 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 t' entrap the hearts of men  
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,  
How could he see to do them? having made one,  
Me thinks it should have power to steal both his  
And leave itself unfurnished: Yet look how fare  
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow  
In underprising it, so fare this shadow  
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,  
The continent, and summary of my fortune.  
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.  Bass. 
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 those peals of praise be his or no.  
So thrice fair Lady stand I even so,  
As doubtful whether what I see be true,  
Until confirmed, signed, ratified by you.  Por. 
You see my Lord Bassiano 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 virtues, beauties, livings, friends,  
Exceed account: but the full sum of me  
Is sum of nothing: which to term in gross,  
Is an unlessoned girl, vnschooled, 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.  Bass. 
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 blended together,  
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy  
Expressed, and not expressed: but when this ring  
Parts from this finger, than parts life from hence,  
O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead.  Ner. 
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.  Gra. 
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.  Bass. 
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.  Gra. 
I thank your Lordship, you gave 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 then you;  
Your fortune stood upon the caskets there,  
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:  
For wooing here until I fwet again,  
And swearing till my very rough 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.  Por. 
Is this true Nerrissa?  Ner. 
Madam it is so, so you stand pleased withal.  Bass. 
And do you Gratiano mean good faith?  Gra. 
Yes faith my Lord.  Bass. 
Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage.  Gra. 
we'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.  Ner. 
What and stake down?  Gra. 
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. Bas. 
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.  Por. 
So do I my Lord, they are entirely welcome.  Lor. 
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.  Sal. 
I did my Lord,  
And I have reason for it, Signior Anthonio  
Commends him to you.  Bass. 
Ere I open his Letter  
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.  Sal. 
Not sick my Lord, unless it be in mind,  
Nor well, unless in mind: his Letter there  
Will show you his estate.  Opens the Letter. Gra. 
Nerrissa, cheer yond stranger, bid her welcome.  
Your hand Salerio, what's the news from Venice?  
How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;  
I know he will be glad of our success,  
We are the jasons', we have won the fleece.  Sal. 
I would you had wone the fleece that he hath lost.  Por. 
There are some shrewd contents in yond same Paper,  
That steals the colour from Bassianos' cheek,  
Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world  
Can 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 any thing  
That this same paper brings you.  Bass. 
O sweet Portia,  
here are a few of the vnpleasant'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,  
Hath all his ventures failed, what not one hit,  
From Tripoli, from Mexico and England,  
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,  
And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch  
Of Merchant-marring rocks?  Sal. 
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.  jessi. 
When I was with him, I have heard him swear  
To Tubal and to Chus, his Countrymen,  
That he would rather have Anthonio's flesh,  
Then 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 Anthonio.  Por 
Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?  Bass 
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,  
The best conditioned, and unwearied spirit  
In doing courtesies: and one in whom  
The ancient Roman honour more appears  
Then any that draws breath in Italy.  Por. 
What sum owes he the jew?  Bass. 
For me three thousand ducats.  Por. 
What, no more?  
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond:  
Double six thousand, and then triple that,  
Before a friend of this description  
Shall lose a hair through Bassano'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 Nerrissa, and myself mean time  
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.  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 see you at my death: notwithstanding, use your pleasure, if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. Por. 
O love! dispatch all business and be gone.  Bass. 
Since I have your good leave to go away,  
I will make haste; but till I come again,  
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,  
Nor rest be interposer twixt us twain.  Exeunt. Enter the jew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the jailor. Iew. 
jailor, look to him, tell not me of mercy,  
This is the fool that lends out money gratis.  
jailor, look to him.  Ant. 
Hear me yet good Shylok.  Iew. 
I'll have my bond, speak not against my bond,  
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond:  
Thou called'st 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 jailor, that thou art so fond  
To come abroad with him at his request.  Ant. 
I pray thee hear me speak.  Iew. 
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 Iew. Sol. 
It is the most impenetrable cur  
That ever kept with men.  Ant. 
Let him alone,  
I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers:  
He seeks my life, his reason well I know;  
I oft delivered from his forfeitures  
Many that have at times made moan to me,  
Therefore he hates me.  Sol. 
I am sure the Duke will never grant this forfeiture to hold.  An. 
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 the 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 jailor, on, pray God Bassanio come  
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.  Exeunt. Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, jessica, and a man of Portia's. Lor. 
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  
Then customary bounty can enforce you.  Por. 
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 Anthonio  
Being the bosom lover of my Lord,  
Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so,  
How little is the cost I have bestowed  
In purchasing the semblance of my soul;  
From out the state of hellish cruelty,  
This comes too near the praising of myself,  
Therefore no more of it: here other things  
Lorenzo I commit into your hands,  
The husbandry and manage of my house,  
Until my Lords return; for mine own part  
I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow,  
To live in prayer and contemplation,  
Only attended by Nerrissa here,  
Until her husband and my Lords return:  
There is a monastery too miles oft,  
And there we will abide. I do desire you  
Not to deny this imposition,  
The which my love and some necessity  
Now lays upon you.  Lorens. 
Madame, with all my heart,  
I shall obey you in all fair commands.  Por. 
My people do already know my mind,  
And will acknowledge you and jessica  
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.  
So far you well till we shall meet again.  Lor. 
Fair thoughts & happy hours attend on you.  jessi. 
I wish your Ladyship all hearts content.  Por. 
I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased  
To wish it back on you: faryouwell jessica.  Exeunt. 
Now Balthaser, 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 Mantua, see thou render this  
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Belari●,  
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.  Balth. 
Madam, I go with all convenient speed.  Por. 
Come on Nerissa, I have work in hand  
That you yet know not of; we'll see our husbands  
Before they think of us?  Nerrissa. 
Shall they see us?  Portia. 
They shall Nerrissa: 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 accoutered 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 acquaint 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 twelve month: I have within my mind  
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging jacks,  
Which I will practise.  Nerris. 
Why, shall we turn to men?  Portia. 
Fie, what a questions that?  
If thou wert ne'er 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. Enter Clowne and jessica. Clown. 
Yes truly; for look you, the sins of the Father are to be laid upon the children, therefore I promise you, 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?  Clow. 
Marry you may partly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the jews daughter.  Ies. 
That were a kind of bastard hope indeed, so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.  Clow. 
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.  Ies. 
I shall be saved by my husband, he hath made me a Christian.  Clow. 
Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enough before, e●ne as many as could well live one by another: this making of Christians will raise the price of Hogs, if we grow all to be porke-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.  Enter Lorenzo. Ies. 
I'll tell my husband Lancelet what you say, here he comes.  Loren. 
I shall grow jealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus get my wife into corners?  Ies. 
Nay, you need not fear us Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a jews daughter: and he says you are no good member of the common wealth, for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the price of Pork.  Loren. 
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 Launcelet?  Clow. 
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.  Loren. 
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?  Clow. 
That is done sir, they have all stomaches?  Loren. 
Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you, then bid them prepare dinner.  Clow. 
That is done to sir, only cover is the word.  Loren. 
Will you cover than sir?  Clow. 
Not so sir neither, I know my duty.  Loren. 
Yet more quarrellng with occasion, wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray thee 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.  Clow. 
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 Clown. Lor. 
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,  
Garnished 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 Bassiano's wife?  jessi. 
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, it  
Is 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  
Pawned with the other, for the poor rude world  
Hath not her fellow.  Loren. 
Even such a husband  
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife.  Ies. 
Nay, but ask my opinion to of that?  Lor. 
I will anon, first let us go to dinner?  Ies. 
Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach?  Lor. 
No pray thee, let it serve for table talk,  
Then how some ere thou speak'st 'mong other things,  
I shall digest it?  jessi. 
Well, I'll set you forth.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano. Duke. 
What, is Anthonio here?  Ant. 
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.  Ant. 
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 armed  
To suffer with a quietness of spirit,  
The very tyranny and rage of his.  Du. 
Go one and call the jew into the Court.  Sal. 
He is ready at the door, he comes my Lord.  Enter Shylocke. Du. 
Make room, and let him stand before our face.  
Shylocke the world thinks, and I think so to  
That thou but leadest 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 lose the forfeiture,  
But touched with humane 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,  
Enough to press a royal Merchant down;  
And pluck commiseration of his state  
From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flints,  
From stubborn Turks and Tarters never trained  
To offices of tender courtesy,  
We all expect a gentle answer jew?  Iew. 
I have possessed 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, then to receive  
Three thousand Ducats? I'll not answer that:  
But say it is my humour; Is it answered?  
What if my house be troubled with a Rat,  
And I be pleased to give ten thousand Ducats  
To have it bained? What, are you answered 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' th' nose,  
Cannot contain their Urine for affection.  
Masters 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 rendered  
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 Anthonio, that I follow thus  
A losing suit against him? Are you answered?  Bass. 
This is no answer thou unfeeling man,  
To excuse the currant of thy cruelty.  Iew. 
I am not bound to please thee with my answer.  Bass. 
Do all men kill the things they do not love?  Iew. 
Hates any man the thing he would not kill?  Bass. 
Every offence is not a hate at first.  Iew. 
What wouldst thou have a Serpent sting thee twice?  Ant. 
I pray you think you question with the jew:  
You may as well go stand upon the beach,  
And bid the main flood bait his usual height,  
Or even as well use question with the Wolf,  
The Ewe bleat for the Lamb:  
You may as well forbidden the Mountain Pines  
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise  
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven:  
You may as well do any thing most hard,  
As seek to soften that, than which what 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 judgement, and the jew his will.  Bas. 
For thy three thousand Ducats heereiss six.  Iew. 
If every Ducat in six thousand Ducats  
Were in six parts, and every part a Ducat,  
I would not draw them, I would have my bond?  Du. 
How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?  Iew. 
What judgement 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 burdens? Let their beds  
Be made as soft as yours: and let their palates  
Be seasoned 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 judgement, answer, Shall I have it?  Du. 
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.  Sal. 
My Lord, here stays without  
A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor,  
New come from Milan.  Du. 
Bring us the Letters, Call the Messengers.  Bass. 
Good cheer Anthonio. What man, courage yet:  
The jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,  
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.  Ant. 
I am a tainted Weather of the flock,  
Meetest for death, the weakest kind of fruit  
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;  
You cannot better be employed Bassanio,  
Then to live still, and write mine Epitaph.  Enter Nerrissa. Du. 
Came you from Milan from Bellario?  Ner. 
From both.  
My Lord Bellario greets your Grace.  Bas. 
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?  Iew. 
To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.  Gra. 
Not on thy sole: but on thy soul harsh jew  
Thou makest thy knife keen: but no mettle can,  
No, not the hangman's Axe bear half the keenness  
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?  Iew. 
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.  Gra. 
O be thou damned, 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  
Governed a Wolf, who hanged for humane slaughter,  
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet;  
And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam,  
Infused itself in thee: For thy desires  
Are Wolvish, bloody, starved, and ravenous.  Iew. 
Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond  
Thou but offendest thy Lungs to speak so loud:  
Repair thy wit good youth, or it will fall  
To endless ruin. I stand here for Law.  Du. 
This Letter from Bellario doth commend  
A young and Learned Doctor in our Court;  
Where is he?  Ner. 
He attendeth here hard by  
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.  Du. 
With all my heart. Some three or four of you  
Go give him courteous conduct to this place,  
Mean time the Court shall hear Bellarioes' Letter.  YOur Grace shall understand, that at the receive 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 Balthas●n: I acquained him with the cause in Controversy, between the jew and Anthonio the Merchant: We turned over many Books together: he is furnished with my opinion, which 〈◊〉 ●ed with his own learning, the greatness whereof I cannot enough command 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 known so young a body, with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation. Enter Portia for Balthasar. Duke. 
You hear the learned Bellario what he writes,  
And here (I take it) is the Doctor come.  
Give me your hand: Came you from old Bellario?  Por. 
I did my Lord.  Du. 
You are welcome: take your place;  
Are you acquainted with the difference  
That holds this present question in the Court.  Por. 
I am informed throughly of the cause.  
Which is the Merchant here? and which the jew?  Du. 
Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand forth.  Por. 
Is your name Shylocke?  Iew. 
Shylocke is my name.  Por. 
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?  Ant. 
I, so he says.  Por. 
Do you confess the bond?  Ant. 
I do.  Por. 
Then must the jew be merciful.  Iew. 
On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.  Por. 
The quality of mercy is not strained,  
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven  
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed,  
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 Gods  
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 course of Venice  
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the Merchant there.  Shy. 
My deeds upon my head, I crave the Law,  
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.  Por. 
Is he not able to discharge the money?  Bas. 
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 over,  
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  
Wrist once the Law to your authority.  
To do a great right, do a little wrong,  
And curb this cruel devil of his will.  Por. 
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.  Iew. 
A Daniel come to judgement, yea a Daniel.  
O wise young judge, how do I honour thee.  Por. 
I pray you let me look upon the bond.  Iew. 
here 'tis most reverend Doctor, here it is.  Por. 
Shylocke, there's thrice thy money offered thee.  Shy. 
An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:  
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?  
No not for Venice.  Por. 
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.  Iew. 
When it is paid according to the tenure.  
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 judgement: By my soul I swear,  
There is no power in the tongue of man  
To alter me: I stay here on my bond.  An. 
Most hearty I do beseech the Court  
To give the judgement.  Por. 
Why then thus it is: you must prepare your bosom for his knife.  Iew. 
O noble judge, O excellent young man.  Por. 
For the intent and purpose of the Law  
Hath full relation to the penalty,  
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.  Iew. 
'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge,  
How much more elder art thou then thy looks?  Por. 
Therefore lay bare your bosom.  Iew. 
I, his breast,  
So says the bond, doth it not noble judge?  
nearest his heart, those are the very words.  Por. 
It is so: Are there balance here to weigh the flesh?  Iew. 
I have them ready.  Por. 
Have by some Surgeon Shylock on your charge  
To stop his wounds, lest he should bleed to death.  Iew. 
It is not nominated in the bond?  Por. 
It is not so expressed: but what of that?  
'Twere good you do so much for charity.  Iew. 
I cannot find it, 'tis not in the bond.  Por. 
Come Merchant, have you any thing to say?  Ant. 
But little: I am armed and well prepared.  
Give me your hand Bassanio, far you well.  
Grieve not that I am fall'n 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 Anthonio'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 not you that you shall lose your friend,  
And he reputes not that he pays your debt.  
For if the jew do cut but deep enough,  
I'll pay it instantly, with all my heart.  Bas. 
Anthonio, 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 esteemed above thy life.  
I would lose all, I sacrifice them all  
here to this devil, to deliver you.  Por. 
Your wife would give you little thanks for that  
If she were by to hear you make the offer.  Gra. 
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 Iew.  Ner. 
'Tis well you offer it behind her back,  
The wish would make else an unquiet house.  Iew. 
These be the Christian husbands: I have a daughter  
Would any of the stock of Barrabas  
Had been her husband, rather than a Christian.  
We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence.  Por. 
A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine,  
The Court awards it, and the law doth give it.  Iew. 
Most rightful judge.  Por. 
And you must cut this flesh from off his breast,  
The Law allows it, and the Court awards it.  Iew. 
Most learned judge, a sentence, come prepare.  Por. 
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:  
Then take 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.  Gra. 
O upright judge,  
Mark jew, o learned judge.  Shy. 
Is that the law?  Por. 
Thyself shalt see the Act:  
For as thou urgest justice, be assured  
Thou shalt have justice more than thou desirest.  Gra. 
O learned judge, mark jew, a learned judge.  Iew. 
I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice,  
And let the Christian go.  Bass. 
here is the money.  Por. 
Soft, the jew shall have all justice, soft, no haste,  
He shall have nothing but the penalty.  Gra. 
O jew, an upright judge, a learned judge.  Por. 
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 tak'st more  
Or less than a just pound, be it 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.  Graccho 
A second Daniel, a Daniel jew,  
Now infidel I have thee on the hip.  Por. 
Why doth the jew pause, take thy forfeiture.  Shy. 
Give me my principal, and let me go.  Bass. 
I have it ready for thee, here it is.  Por. 
He hath refused, it in the open Court,  
He shall have merely justice and his bond.  Gra. 
A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel,  
I thank thee jew for teaching me that word.  Shy. 
Shall I not have barely my principal?  Por. 
Thou shalt have nothihg but the forfeiture,  
To be taken so at thy peril Iew.  Shy. 
Why then the Devil give him good of it:  
I'll stay no longer question.  Por. 
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 to,  
Thou hast contrived against the very life  
Of the defendant: and thou hast incurred  
The danger formerly by me rehearsed.  
down therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.  Gra. 
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 hanged at the slates charge.  Duk. 
That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,  
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:  
For half thy wealth, it is Anthonio's,  
The other half comes to the general state,  
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.  Por. 
I for the state, not for Anthonio.  Shy. 
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.  Por. 
What mercy can you render him Anthonio?  Gra. 
A halter gratis, nothing else for God's sake.  Ant. 
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 possessed  
Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter.  Duk. 
He shall do this, or else I do recant  
The pardon that I late pronounced here.  Por. 
Art thou contented jew? what dost thou say?  Shy. 
I am content.  Por. 
Clarke, draw a deed of gift.  Shy. 
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.  Gra. 
In christening thou shalt have two godfathers,  
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,  
To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font.  Exit. Du. 
Sir I entreat you with me home to dinner.  Por. 
I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon,  
I must away this night toward Milan,  
And it is mere I presently set forth.  Duk. 
I am sorry that your leisure serves you not:  
Anthonio, gratify this gentlemen,  
For in my mind, you are much bound to him.  Exit Duke and his train. Bass. 
Most worthy gentlemen, I and my friend  
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted  
Of grievous penalties, in lie ● whereof,  
Three thousand Ducats due unto the jew  
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.  An. 
And stand indebted over and above  
In love and service to you evermore.  Por. 
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.  Bass. 
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further,  
Take some remembrance of us as a tribute,  
Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray you  
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.  Por. 
You press me fare, and therefore I will yield,  
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake,  
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?  Bass. 
This ring good sir, alas it is a trifle,  
I will not shame myself to give you this.  Por. 
I will have nothing else but only this,  
And now methinks I have a mind to it.  Bas. 
There's more depends on this then 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.  Por. 
I see sir you are liberal in offers,  
You taught me first to beg, and now me thinks  
You teach me how a beggar should be answered.  Bas. 
Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife,  
And when she put it on, she made me vow  
That I should neither sol, nor give, nor lose it.  Por. 
That excuse serves many men to save their gifts,  
And if your wife be not a mad woman,  
And know how well I have deserved this ring,  
She would not hold out enemy for ever  
For giving it to me: well, peace be with you.  Exeunt. Ant. 
My L. Bassanio, let him have the ring,  
Let his deservings and my love withal  
Be valued against your wife's commandment.  Bass. 
Go Gratiano, run and overtake him,  
Give him the ring, and bring him if thou canst  
Unto Antonio's house, away, make haste.  Exit Grati. 
Come, you and I will thither presently,  
And in the morning early will we both  
Fly toward Belmont, come Anthonio.  Exeunt. Enter Portia and Nerrissa. Por. 
Inquire the jews house out, give him this deed,  
And let him sign it, we'll away to night,  
And be a day before our husband's home:  
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.  Enter Gratiano. Gra. 
Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en:  
My L. Bassanio upon more advice,  
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat  
Your company at dinner.  Por. 
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 Shylockes' house.  Gra. 
That will I do.  Ner. 
Sir, I would speak with you:  
I'll see if I can get my husband's ring  
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.  Por. 
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 to:  
Away, make haste, thou knowst where I will tarry.  Ner. 
Come good sir, will you show me to this house.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Lorenzo and jessica. Lor. 
The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,  
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,  
And they did make no nuyse, in such a night  
Troilus me thinks mounted the Trojan walls,  
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents  
Where Cressida lay that night.  Ies. 
In such a night  
Did Thisbie fearfully ore-trip the dew,  
And saw the Lion's shadow ere himself,  
And ran dismayed away.  Loren. 
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.  Ies. 
In such a night  
Medea gathered the enchanted herbs  
That did renew old Aeson.  Loren. 
In such a night  
Did jessica steal from the wealthy jew,  
And with an Unthrift Love did run from Venice,  
As fare as Belmont.  Ies. 
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.  Loren. 
In such a night  
Did pretty jessica (like a little shrew)  
Slander her Love, and he forgave it her.  jessi 
I would out-night you did no body come:  
But hark, I hear the footing of a man.  Enter Messenger. Lor. 
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?  Mes. 
A friend.  Loren. 
A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend?  Mes. 
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.  Loren. 
Who comes with her?  Mes. 
None but a holy Hermit and her maid:  
I pray you it my Master yet rnturned?  Loren. 
He is not, nor we have not heard from him,  
But go we in I pray thee jessica,  
And ceremoniously let us us prepare  
Some welcome for the Mistress of the house,  Enter Clown. Clo. 
Sola, sola: woe ha' ho, sola, sola.  Loren. 
Who calls?  Clo. 
Sola, did you see M. Lorenzo, & M. Lorenzo, sola, sola.  Lor. 
Leave hollowing man, here.  Clo. 
Sola, where, where?  Lor. 
here?  Clo 
Tell him there's a Post come from my Master, with his horn full of good news, my Master will be here ere morning sweet soul.  Loren. 
Let's in, and there expect their coming.  
And yet no matter: why should we go in?  
My friend Stephen, signify pray you  
Within the house, your Mistress is at hand,  
And bring your music forth into the air.  
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 tutches of sweet harmony:  
Sat jessica, look how the floor of heaven  
Is thick inlaid with pattens of bright gold,  
There's not the smallest or be which thou beholdest  
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 in it, we cannot hear it:  
Come ho, and wake Diana with a hymn,  
With sweetest tutches pierce your Mistress ear,  
And draw her home with music.  jessi. 
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.  Play music. Lor. 
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:  
For do but note a wild and wanton heard  
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 turned to a modest gaze,  
By the sweet power of music: therefore the Poet  
Did fain that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.  
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,  
But music for 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 Erobus,  
Let no such man be trusted: mark the music.  Enter Portia and Nerrissa. Por. 
That light we see is burning in my hall:  
How fare that little candle throws his beams,  
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.  Ner. 
When the moon shone we did not see the candle?  Por. 
So doth the greater glory dim the less,  
A substitute shines brightly as a King  
Until a King be by, and then his state  
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook  
Into the main of waters: music, hark.  Music. Ner. 
It is your music Madame of the house.  Por. 
Nothing is good I see without respect,  
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day?  Ner. 
Silence bestows that virtue on it Madam.  Por. 
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 then the Wren?  
How many things by season, seasoned are  
To their right praise, and true perfection:  
Peace, how the Moon sleeps with Endymion,  
And would not be awaked.  Music ceases. Lor. 
That is the voice,  
Or I am much deceived of Portia.  Por. 
He knows me as the blind man knows the  
Cuckoo by the bad voice?  Lor. 
Dear Lady welcome home?  Por. 
We have been praying for our husband's welfare  
Which speed we hope the better for our words,  
Are they returned?  Lor. 
Madam, they are not yet:  
But there is come a Messenger before  
To signify their coming.  Por. 
Go in Nerrissa,  
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. Lor. 
Your husband is at hand, I hear his Trumpet,  
We are no tell-tales Madam, fear you not.  Por. 
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, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers. Bas. 
We should hold day with the Antipodes,  
If you would walk in absence of the sun.  Por. 
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.  Bass. 
I thank you Madam, give welcome to my friend  
This is the man, this is Anthonio,  
To whom I am so infinitely bound.  Por. 
You should in all sense be much bound to him,  
For as I hear he was much bound for you.  Anth. 
No more than I am well acquitted of.  Por. 
Sir, you are very welcome to our house:  
It must appear in other ways than words,  
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.  Gra. 
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 hart.  Por. 
A quarrel ho already, what's the matter?  Gra. 
About a hoop of Gold, a paltry Ring  
That she did give me, whose Poesy was  
For all the world like Cutler's Poetry  
Upon a knife; Love me, and leave me not.  Ner. 
What talk you of the Poesy or the value:  
You swore to me when I did give it you,  
That you would wear it till the 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: but well I know  
The Clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.  Gra. 
He will, and if he live to be a man.  Nerrissa. 
I, if a Woman live to be a man.  Gra. 
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 begged it as a Fee,  
I could not for my heart deny it him.  Por. 
You were too 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,  
And 'twere to me I should be mad at it.  Bass. 
Why I were best to cut my left hand off,  
And swear I lost the Ring defending it.  Gre. 
My Lord Bassanio gave his Ring away  
Unto the judge that begged it, and indeed  
Deserved it too: and then the Boy his Clerk  
That took some pains in writing, he begged mine,  
And neither man nor master would take aught  
But the two Rings.  Por. 
What Ring gave you my Lord?  
Not that I hope which you received of me.  Bass. 
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.  Por. 
Even so void is your false heart of truth.  
By heaven I will ne'er come in your bed  
Until I see the Ring.  Ner. 
Nor I in yours, till I again see mine.  Bass. 
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?  Por. 
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:  
Nerrissa teaches me what to believe,  
I'll die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?  Bass. 
No by mine honour Madam, by my soul  
No Woman had it, but a civil Doctor,  
Which did refuse three thousand Ducats of me,  
And begged the Ring; the which I did deny him,  
And suffered him to go displeased away:  
Even he that had held up 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,  
And by these blessed Candles of the night,  
Had you been there, I think you would have begged  
The Ring of me, to give the worthy Doctor?  Por. 
Let not that Doctor ere 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 Argos,  
If you do not, if I be left alone,  
Now by mine honour which is yet mine own,  
I'll have the Doctor for my bedfellow.  Nerrissa. 
And I his Clerk: therefore be well advised  
How you do leave me to mine own protection.  Gra. 
Well, do you so: let not me take him then,  
For if I do, i'll mar the young Clarks pen.  Ant. 
I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels.  Por. 
Sir, grieve not you,  
You are welcome notwithstanding.  Bas. 
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.  Por. 
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.  Bas. 
Nay, but hear me.  
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear  
I never more will break an oath with thee.  Anth. 
I once did lend my body for thy 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.  Por. 
Then you shall be his surety: give him this,  
And bid him keep it better than the other.  Ant. 
here Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring.  Bass. 
By heaven it is the same I gave the Doctor.  Por. 
I had it of him: pardon Bassanio,  
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me.  Ner. 
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.  Gra. 
Why this is like the mending of high ways  
In Summer, where the ways are fair enough:  
What, are we Cuckolds ere we have deserved it.  Por. 
Speak not so grossly, you are all amazed;  
here is a letter, read it at your leisure,  
It comes from Milan from Bellario,  
There you shall find that Portia was the Doctor,  
Nerrissa there her Clerk. Lorenzo here  
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,  
And but even now returned: I have not yet  
Entered my house. Anthonio you are welcome,  
And I have better news in store for you  
Then you expect: unseal this letter soon,  
There you shall find three of your Argosies  
Are richly come to harbour so dainlie.  
You shall not know by what strange accident  
I chanced on this letter.  Antho. 
I am dumb.  Bass. 
Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?  Gra. 
Were you the Clerk that is to make me cuckold.  Ner. 
I, but the Clerk that never means to do it,  
Unless he live until he be a man.  Bass. 
(Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,  
When I am absent, than he with my wife.  An. 
(Sweet Lady) you have given me life & living;  
For here I read for certain that my ships  
Are safely come to Rode.  Por. 
How now Lorenzo?  
My Clerk hath some good comforts to for you.  Ner. 
I, 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 possessed of.  Loren. 
Fair Ladies you drop Manna in the way  
Of starved people.  Por. 
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 intergatories,  
And we will answer all things faithfully.  Gra. 
Let it be so, the first interrogatory  
That my Nerrissa 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,  
Till I were couching with the Doctor's Clerk.  
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing  
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas' ring.  Exeunt.  
FINIS.   

As you Like it.  

Actus primus.  

Scoena Prima.  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 saift, charged my brother on his blessing to breed me well: and there gins 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, gins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.  Enter Oliver. Adam. 
Yonder comes my Master, your brother.  Orlan. 
Go apart Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.  Oli. 
Now Sir, what make you here?  Orl. 
Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.  Oli. 
What mar you then sir?  Orl. 
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 a while.  Orlan. 
Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? what prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury?  Oli. 
Know you where you are sir?  Orl. 
O sir, very well: here in your Orchard.  Oli. 
Know you before whom sir?  Orl. 
I, 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 borne, 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.  Oli. 
What Boy.  Orl. 
Come, come elder brother, you are too young in this.  Oli. 
Wilt thou lay hands on me villain?  Orl. 
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 patiented, for your Father's remembrance, be at accord.  Oli. 
Let me go I say.  Orl. 
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 gentlemanlike 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.  Oli. 
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.  Orl. 
I will no further offend you, than becomes me for my good.  Oli. 
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. Ex. Orl. Ad.  Oli. 
Is it even so, begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your ranckenesse, and yet give no thousand crowns neither: holla Dennis.  Enter Dennis. Den. 
Calls your worship?  Oli. 
Was not Charles the Duke's Wrestler here to speak with me?  Den. 
So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.  Oli. 
Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow the wrestling is.  Enter Charles. Cham 
Good morrow to your worship.  Oli. 
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.  Oli. 
Can you tell if Rosalind the Duke's daughter be banished with her Father?  Cham 
O no; for the Duke's daughter her Cousin so love's her, being ever from their Cradles bred together, that he 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.  Oli. 
Where will the old Duke live?  Cham 
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.  Oli. 
What, you wrestle to morrow before the new Duke.  Cham 
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.  Oli. 
Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly require: 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 & villainous contriver against me his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion, I had as liese 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 devise, 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 villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him, but should I anathomize him to thee, as he is, I must blush, and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.  Cham 
I am hearty 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 prise more: and so God keep your worship.  Exit. 
Farewell good 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 devise, 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.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Rosalind, and Cellia. Cel. 
I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry.  Ros. 
Dear Cellia; I show more mirth than I am mistress of, and would you yet were merrier: unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.  Cel. 
Herein I see thou lov'st 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.  Ros. 
Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.  Cel. 
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.  Ros. 
From henceforth I will Coz, and device sports: let me see, what think you of falling in Love?  Cel. 
Marry I prithee do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither; then with safety of a pure blush, thou mayst in honour come off again.  Ros. 
What shall be our sport then?  Cel. 
Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.  Ros. 
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.  Cel. 
'Tis true, for those that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very ill favouredly.  Ros. 
Nay now thou goest from Fortune's office to Natures: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.  Enter Clown. Cel. 
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?  Ros. 
Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes natures natural, the cutter off of nature's wit.  Cel. 
Peradventure this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Natural for our whetstone▪ for always the dulness of the fool, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Wit, whether wander you?  Clow. 
Mistress, you must come away to your father.  Cel. 
Were you made the messenger?  Clo. 
No by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you  Ros. 
Where learned you that oath fool?  Clo. 
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.  Cel. 
How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge?  Ros. 
I marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.  Clo. 
Stand you both forth now: struck your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.  Cel. 
By our beards (if we had them) thou art.  Clo. 
By my knavery (if I had it) than 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.  Cel. 
Prithee, who is't that thou meansed?  Clo. 
One that old Frederick your Father love's.  Ros. 
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.  Clo. 
The more pity that fools may not speak wisely, what Wisemen do foolishly.  Cel. 
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 the Beu.  Enter le Beau. Ros. 
With his mouth full of news.  Cel. 
Which he will put on us, as Pigeons feed their young.  Ros. 
Then shall we be newes-cramed.  Cel. 
All the better: we shallbe the more Marketable. Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the news?  Le Beu. 
Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport.  Cel. 
Sport: of what colour?  Le Beu. 
What colour Madame? How shall I answer you?  Ros. 
As wit and fortune will.  Clo. 
Or as the destinies decrees.  Cel. 
Well said, that was laid on with a trowel.  Clo. 
Nay, if I keep not my rank.  Ros. 
Thou losest thy old smell.  Le Beu. 
You amaze me Ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.  Ros. 
Yet tell us the manner of the Wrestling.  Le Beu. 
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.  Cel. 
Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.  Le Beu. 
There comes an old man, and his three sons.  Cel. 
I could match this beginning with an old tale.  Le Beu. 
Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.  Ros. 
With bills on their necks: Be it known unto all men by these presents.  Le Beu. 
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.  Ros. 
Alas.  Clo. 
But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies have lost?  Le Beu. 
Why this that I speak of.  Clo. 
Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for Ladies.  Cel. 
Or I, I promise thee.  Ros. 
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 Beu. 
You must if you stay here, for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.  Cel. 
Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay and see it.  Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants. Duke. 
Come on, since the youth will not be entreated  
His own peril on his forwardness.  Ros. 
Is yonder the man?  Le Beu. 
Even he, Madam.  Cel. 
Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully  Du. 
How now daughter, and Cousin:  
Are you crept hither to see the wrestling?  Ros. 
I my Liege, so please you give us leave.  Du. 
You will take little delight in it, I can tell you there is such odds in the man: In pity of the challengers youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him Ladies, see if you can move him.  Cel. 
Call him hither good Monsiever Le Beu.  Duke. 
Do so: I'll not be by.  Le Beu. 
Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you.  Orl. 
I attend them with all respect and duty.  Ros. 
Young man, have you challenged Charles the Wrestler?  Orl. 
No fair Princess: he is the general challenger, I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.  Cel. 
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 judgement, 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.  Ros. 
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.  Orl. 
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 is 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.  Ros. 
The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.  Cel. 
And mine to eke out hers.  Ros. 
Far you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you.  Cel. 
Your hearts desires be with you.  Char. 
Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?  Orl. 
Ready Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest working.  Duk. 
You shall try but one fall.  Cham 
No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.  Orl. 
You mean to mock me after: you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways.  Ros. 
Now Hercules, be thy speed young man.  Cel. 
I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.  Wrestle. Ros. 
Oh excellent young man.  Cel. 
If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.  Shout. Duk. 
No more, no more.  Orl. 
Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breathed.  Duk. 
How dost thou Charles?  Le Beu. 
He cannot speak my Lord.  Duk. 
Bear him away:  
What is thy name young man?  Orl. 
Orlando my Liege, the youngest son of Sir Roland de Boys.  Duk. 
I would thou hadst been son to some man else,  
The world esteemed 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 far thee well, thou art a gallant youth,  
I would thou hadst told me of another Father.  Exit Duke. Cel. 
Were I my Father (Cousin) would I do this?  Orl. 
I am more proud to be Sir Rolands son,  
His youngest son, and would not change that calling  
To be adopted heir to Fredricke.  Ros. 
My Father loved Sir Roland 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.  Cel. 
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.  Ros. 
Gentleman,  
Wear this for me: one out of suits with fortune  
That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.  
Shall we go Cousin?  Cel. 
I: far you well fair Gentleman.  Orl. 
Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts  
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up  
Is but a quintine, a mere liveless block.  Ros. 
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.  Cel. 
Will you go Cousin?  Ros. 
Have with you: far you well.  Exit. Orl. 
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?  
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.  Enter Le Beu. 
O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown  
Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee.  Le Beu. 
Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you  
Te 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.  Orl. 
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 Beu. 
Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners,  
But yet indeed the taller is his daughter,  
The other is daughter to the banished Duke,  
And here detained 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, far you well,  
Hereafter in a better world than this,  
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.  Orl. 
I rest much bounden to you: far you well.  
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother,  
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant Brother.  
But heavenly Rosaline.  Exit  

Scena Tertius.  Enter Celia and Rosaline. Cel. 
Why Cousin, why Rosaline: Cupid have mercy,  
Not a word?  Ros. 
Not one to throw at a dog.  Cel. 
No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame me with reasons.  Ros. 
Then there were two Cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any.  Cel. 
But is all this for your Father?  Ros. 
No, some of it is for my child's Father: Oh how full of briers is this working day world.  Cel. 
They are but burrs, Cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery, if we walk not in the trodden paths our very petticoats will catch them.  Ros. 
I could shake them off my coat, these burrs are in my heart.  Cel. 
Him them away.  Ros. 
I would try if I could cry 'em, and have him.  Cel. 
Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.  Ros. 
O they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.  Cel. 
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 Roulands' youngest son?  Ros. 
The Duke my Father loved his Father dear.  Cel. 
Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his Son dear? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.  Ros. 
No faith, hate him not for my sake.  Cel. 
Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?  Enter Duke with Lords. Ros. 
Let me love him for that, and do you love him  
Because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.  Cel. 
With his eyes full of anger.  Duk. 
Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,  
And get you from our Court.  Ros. 
Me uncle.  Duk. 
You Cousin,  
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found  
So near our public Court as twenty miles,  
Thou diest for it.  Ros. 
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.  Duk. 
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.  Ros. 
Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;  
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?  Duk. 
Thou art thy Father's daughter, there's enough.  Ros. 
So was I when your highness took his Dukdome,  
So was I when your highness banished 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.  Cel. 
Dear Sovereign hear me speak.  Duk. 
I Celia, we stayed her for your sake,  
Else had she with her Father ranged along.  Cel. 
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, learned, played, eat together,  
And wheresoever we went, like junos' Swans,  
Still we went coupled and inseparable.  Duk. 
She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness;  
Her very silence, and per 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, & seem more virtuous  
When she is gone: then open not thy lips  
Firm, and irrevocable is my doom,  
Which I have passed upon her, she is banished.  Cel. 
Pronounce that sentence then on me my Liege,  
I cannot live out of her company.  Duk. 
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.  Exit Duke, etc. Cel. 
O my poor Rosaline, whether wilt thou go?  
Wilt thou change Fathers? I will give thee mine:  
I charge thee be not thou more grieved than I am.  Ros. 
I have more cause.  Cel. 
Thou hast not Cousin,  
Prithee be cheerful; knowst thou not the Duke  
Hath banished me his daughter?  Ros. 
That he hath not.  Cel. 
No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the love  
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,  
Shall we be sundered? shall we part sweet girl?  
No, let my Father seek another heir:  
Therefore devise with me how we may fly  
Whether 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.  Ros. 
Why, whether shall we go?  Cel. 
To seek my Uncle in the Forest of Arden.  Ros. 
Alas, what danger will it be to us,  
(Maids as we are) to travel forth so fare?  
Beauty provoketh thiefs sooner than gold.  Cel. 
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.  Ros. 
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 marshal outside,  
As many other mannish cowards have,  
That do outface it with their semblances.  Cel. 
What shall I call thee when thou art a man?  Ros. 
I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own Page,  
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.  
But what will you by called?  Cel. 
Something that hath a reference to my state:  
No longer Celia, but Aliena.  Ros. 
But Cousin, what if we assayed to steal  
The clownish Fool out of your Father's Court:  
Would he not be a comfort to our travail?  Cel. 
he'll go along o'er the wide world with me,  
Leave me alone to woe him; Let's away  
And get our jewels and our wealth together,  
Device the fittest time, and safest way  
To hide us from pursuit that will be made  
After my flight: now go in we content  
To liberty, and not to banishment.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Duke Signior: Amiens, and two or three Lords like Foresters. Duk. Sen. 
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 then the envious Court?  
here feel we not the penalty of Adam,  
The seasons difference, as the I cie 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.  Amien. 
I would not change it, happy is your Grace  
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune  
Into so quiet and so sweet a stile.  Du. Sen. 
Come, shall we go and kill us venison?  
And yet it irks me the poor dapled fools  
Being native Burghers of this desert City,  
Should in their own confines with forked heads  
Have their round banches gored.  1. Lord. 
Indeed my Lord  
The melancholy jaques grieves at that,  
And in that kind swears you do more usurp  
Then doth your brother that hath banished you:  
To day my Lord of Amiens, and myself,  
Did steal behind him as he lay along  
Under an oak, whose antic root peeps out  
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood,  
To the which place a poor sequestered 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 th' extremest verge of the swift brook,  
Augmenting it with tears.  Du. Sen. 
But what said jaques?  
Did he not moralise this spectacle?  1. 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 must: then being there alone,  
Left and abandoned of his velvet friend;  
'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 staid to greet him: I 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 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 assigned and native dwelling place.  D. Sen. 
And did you leave him in this contemplation?  2. Lord. 
We did my Lord, weeping and commenting  
Upon the sobbing Deer.  Du. Sen. 
Show me the place,  
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,  
For then he's full of matter.  1. Lor. 
I'll bring you to him straight.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Duke, with Lords. Duk. 
Can it be possible that no man saw them?  
It cannot be, some villains of my Court  
Are of consent and sufferance in this.  1. Lo. 
I cannot hear of any that did see her,  
The Ladies her attendants of her chamber  
Saw her a bed, and in the morning early,  
They found the bed vntreasured of their Mistress.  2. Lor. 
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 synowie Charles,  
And she believes where ever they are gone  
That youth is surely in their company.  Duk. 
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.  Exunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Orlando and Adam. Orl. 
Who's there?  Ad. 
What my young Master, oh my gentle master,  
Oh 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 seem 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:  
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely  
Enuenoms him that bears it?  
Why, what's the matter?  Ad. 
O unhappy youth,  
Come not within these doors: within this roof  
The enemy of all your graces life's  
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 practices:  
This is no place, this house is but a butchery;  
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.  Ad. 
Why whether Adam wouldst thou have me go?  Ad. 
No matter whether, so you come not here.  Orl. 
What, wouldst thou have me go & 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.  Ad. 
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 cators for the Sparrow,  
Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,  
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 unbashfull forehead woe,  
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.  Orl. 
Oh 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 prun'st a rotten tree,  
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,  
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry,  
But come thy ways, we'll go along together,  
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,  
we'll light upon some settled low content.  Ad. 
Master go on, and I will follow thee  
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty,  
From seventy 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.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Rosaline for Ganimod, Celia for Aliena, and Clown, alias Touchstone. Ros. 
O jupiter, how merry are my spirits?  Clo. 
I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.  Ros. 
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.  Cel. 
I pray you bear with me, I cannot go no further.  Clo. 
For my part, I had rather bear with you, then bear you: yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse.  Ros. 
Well, this is the Forest of Arden.  Clo. 
I, 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.  Enter Corin and Siluius. Ros. 
I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes here, a young man and an old in solemn talk.  Cor. 
That is the way to make her scorn you still.  Sil. 
Oh Corin, that thou knewest how I do love her.  Cor. 
I partly guess: for I have loved ere now.  Sil. 
No Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,  
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover  
As ever sighed 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?  Cor. 
Into a thousand that I have forgotten.  Sil. 
Oh thou didst then never 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,  
Wearing 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. Ros. 
Alas poor Shepherd searching of they would,  
I have by hard adventure found mine own.  Clo. 
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 batler, and the Cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cod, 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.  Ros. 
Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.  Clo. 
Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, till  
I break my shins against it.  Ros. 
jove, jove, this Shepherd's passion,  
Is much upon my fashion.  Clo. 
And mine, but it grows something stolen with me.  Cel. 
I pray you, one of you question yond man,  
If he for gold will give us any food,  
I faint almost to death.  Clo. 
Holla; you Clown.  Ros. 
Peace fool, he's not thy kinsman.  Cor. 
Who calls?  Clo. 
Your betters Sir.  Cor. 
Else are they very wretched.  Ros. 
Peace I say; good even to your friend.  Cor. 
And to you gentle Sir, and to you all.  Ros. 
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 travail much oppressed,  
And faints for succour.  Cor. 
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 wreaks to find the way to heaven  
By doing deeds of hospitality.  
Besides his Coat, his Flocks, and bounds of feed  
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coat 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.  Ros. 
What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?  Cor. 
That young Swain that you saw here but erewhile,  
That little cares for buying any thing.  Ros. 
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.  Cel. 
And we will mend thy wages:  
I like this place, and willingly could  
Waste my time in it.  Cor. 
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.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter, Amiens, jaques, & others. 

Song.  
Under the green wood tree, who love's to lie with me,  
And turn his merry Note, unto the sweet Birds throat:  
Come hither, come hither, come hither:  
here shall he see no enemy,  
But Winter and rough Weather.   jaq. 
More, more, I prithee more.  Amy. 
It will make you melancholy Monsieur jaques  jaq. 
I thank it: More, I prithee more,  
I can suck melancholy out of a song,  
As a Weazel sucks eggs: More, I prithee more.  Amy. 
My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please you.  jaq. 
I do not desire you to please me,  
I do desire you to sing:  
Come, more, another stanzo: Call you 'em stanzo's?  Amy. 
What you will Monsieur jaques.  jaq. 
Nay, I care not for their names, they own me nothing. Will you sing?  Amy. 
More at your request, then to please myself.  jaq. 
Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-Apes. And when a man thanks me heartily, me thinks I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thankes. Come sing; and you that will not hold your tongues.  Amy. 
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.  jaq. 
And I have been all this day to avoid him:  
He is too disputeable for my company:  
I think of as many matters as he, but I give  
Heaven thankes, and make no boast of them.  
Come, warble, come.  

Song.  
Altogether here. Who doth ambition shun, and love's to live i' th' Sun:  
Seeking the food he eats, and pleased with what he gets:  
Come hither, come hither, come hither,  
here shall he see. etc.   jaq. 
I'll give you a verse to this note,  
That I made yesterday in despite of my Invention.  Amy. 
And I'll sing it.  Amy. 
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,  
And if he will come to me.  Amy. 
What's that Ducdame?  jaq. 
'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 borne of Egypt.  Amy. 
And I'll go seek the Duke,  
His banquet is prepared.  Exeunt  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Orlando, & 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.  Orl. 
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 a while  
At the arms 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 look'st 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  

Scena Septima.  Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Outlaws. Du. Sen. 
I think he be transformed into a beast,  
For I can no where find him, like a man.  1. Lord. 
My Lord, he is but even now gone hence,  
here was he merry, hearing of a Song.  Du. Sen. 
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. 1. Lord. 
He saves my labour by his own approach.  Du. Sen. 
Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this  
That your poor friends must woe your company,  
What, you look merrily.  jaq. 
A Fool, a fool: I met a fool i' th' Forest,  
A motley Fool (a miserable world:)  
As I do live by food, I met a fool,  
Who laid him down, and basked him in the Sun,  
And railed 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 lacke-lustre eye,  
Says, very wisely, it is ten a 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. Oh noble fool,  
A worthy fool: Motley's the only wear.  Du. Sen. 
What fool is this?  jaq. 
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 braives,  
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit  
After a voyage: He hath strange places crammed  
With observation, the which he vents  
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool,  
I am ambitious for a motley coat.  Du. Sen. 
Thou shalt have one.  jaq. 
It is my only suit,  
Provided that you weed your better judgements  
Of all opinion that grows rank in them,  
That I am wise. I must have liberty  
Wiithall, as large a Charter as the wind,  
To blow on whom I please, for so fools have:  
And they that are most gauled 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  
Seem senseless of the bob. If not,  
The Wiseman's folly is anathomized  
Even by the squandring 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 th' infected world,  
If they will patiently receive my medicine.  Du. Sen. 
Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do.  jaq. 
What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?  Du. Sen. 
Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:  
For thou thyself hast been a Libertine,  
As sensual as the brutish sting itself,  
And all th' embossed sores, and headed evils,  
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,  
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.  jaq. 
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 on 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 wronged him: if it do him right,  
Then he hath wronged himself: if he be free,  
why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies  
Vnclaimed of any▪ man But who come here?  Enter Orlando. Orl. 
Forbear, and eat no more.  jaq. 
Why I have eat none yet.  Orl. 
Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.  jaq. 
Of what kind should this Cock come of?  Du. Sen. 
Art thou thus boldened man by thy distress?  
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,  
That in civility thou seem'st so empty?  Orl. 
You touched 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 dyes that touches any of this fruit,  
Till I, and my affairs are answered.  jaq. 
And you will not be answered with reason,  
I must dye.  Du. Sen. 
What would you have?  
Your gentleness shall force, more than your force  
Move us to gentleness.  Orl. 
I almost die for food, and let me have it.  Du. Sen. 
Sat down and feed, & welcome to our table  Orl. 
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 what ere 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 looked on better days:  
If ever been where bells have knolled 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.  Du. Sen. 
True is it, that we have seen better days,  
And have with holy bell been knowld to Church,  
And sat at good men's feasts, and wiped our eyes  
Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendered:  
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,  
And take upon command, what help we have  
That to your wanting may be ministered.  Orl. 
Then but forbear your food a little while:  
Whiles (like a do) I go to find my Fawn,  
And give it food. There is an old poor man,  
Who after me, hath many a weary step  
Limpt in pure love: till he be first sufficed,  
Oppressed with two weak evils, age, and hunger,  
I will not touch a bit.  Duke Sen. 
Go find him out.  
And we will nothing waste till you return.  Orl. 
I thank ye, and be blessed for your good comfort.  Du Sen. 
Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy:  
This wide and universal Theatre  
Presents more woeful Pageants than the Scene  
Wherein we play in.  ja. 
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:  
Then, the whining Schoolboy 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 Canon'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 slippered 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 eventfull history,  
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,  
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.  Enter Orlando with Adam. Du Sen. 
Welcome: set down your venerable burden, and let him feed.  Orl. 
I thank you most for him.  Ad. 
So had you need,  
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.  Du. Sen. 
Welcome, fall too: I will not trouble you,  
As yet to question you about your fortunes:  
Give us some Music, and good Cousin, sing.  

Song.  
Blow, blow, thou winter winde,  
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:  
The 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 remembered not.  
Heigh ho, sing, etc.   Duke Sen. 
If that you were the good Sir Roland's son,  
As you have whispered faithfully you were,  
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness,  
Most truly limned, 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 masters is:  
Support him by the arm: give me your hand,  
And let me all your fortunes understand.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliver. Du. 
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 wheresoever 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 brother's mouth,  
Of what we think against thee.  Ol. 
Oh that your Highness knew my heart in this:  
I never loved my brother in my life.  Duke. 
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  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Orlando. Orl. 
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 witnessed every where.  
Run, run Orlando, carve on every Tree,  
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.  Exit Enter Corin & Clowne. Co. 
And how like you this shepherd's life Mr Touchstone?  Clow. 
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 vild 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 it is 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?  Cor. 
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 pood 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.  Clo. 
Such a one is a natural Philosopher:  
Was't ever in Court, Shepheard?  Cor. 
No truly.  Clo. 
Then thou art damned.  Cor. 
Nay, I hope.  Clo. 
Truly thou art damned, like an ill roasted Egg, all on one side.  Cor. 
For not being at Court? your reason.  Clo. 
Why, if thou never was't at Court, thou never saw'st good manners: if thou never saw'st good manners, than thy manners must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a perilous state shepherd.  Cor. 
Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good manners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Country, as the behaviour of the Country is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be unclean if Courtiers were shepherds.  Clo. 
Instance, briefly: come, instance.  Cor. 
Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their  
Fels you know are greasy.  Clo. 
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.  Cor. 
Besides, our hands are hard.  Clo. 
Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again: a more sounder instance, come.  Cor. 
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.  Clo. 
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 base birth than Tar, the very uncleanly flux of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard.  Cor. 
You have too Courtly a wit for me, I'll rest.  Clo. 
Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee shallow man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw.  Cor. 
Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earn that I eat: get that I wear; own 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, & my Lambs suck.  Clo. 
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 shee-Lambe of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old Cuckoldly Ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape.  Cor. 
here comes young Mr Ganymede, my new Mistress' Brother.  Enter Rosalind. Ros. 

From the east to western jude,  
no jewel is like Rosalinde,  
Her worth being mounted on the wind,  
through all the world bears Rosalinde.  
All the pictures fairest Lined,  
are but black to Rosalinde:  
Let no face be kept in mind,  
but the fair of Rosalinde.   Clo. 
I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens' rank to Market.  Ros. 
Out Foole.  Clo. 
For a taste.  
If a Hart do lack a Hind,  
Let him seek out Rosalinde:  
If the Cat will after kind,  
so be sure will Rosalinde:  
Wintered garments must be lined,  
so must slender Rosalinde:  
They that reap must sheaf and bind,  
then to cart with Rosalinde.  
Sweetest nut, bath sourest rind,  
such a nut is Rosalinde.  
He that sweetest rose will find,  
must find Love's prick, & Rosalinde.  
This is the very false gallop of Verses, why do you infect yourself with them?  Ros. 
Peace you dull folle, I found them on a tree.  Clo. 
Truly the tree yields bad fruit.  Ros. 
I'll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a Meddler: than it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country: for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the Meddler.  Clo. 
You have said: but whether wisely or no, let the Forest judge.  Enter Celia with a writing. Ros. 
Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand a side.  Cel. 
Why should this Desert be, for it is unpeopled? Noah:  
tonge's Isle hang on every tree, that shall civil sayings shoe.  
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 bows, or at every sentence end;  
Will I Rosalinda write, teaching all that read, to know  
The quintessence of every spirit, heaven would in little show.  
Therefore heaven Nature charged, that one body should be filled  
With all Graces wide enlarged, nature presently distilled  
Helen's cheek, but not his heart,  
Cleopatra's Majesty:  
Attalanta's better part,  
sad Lucrecia's Modesty.  
Thus Rosalinde 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.  Ros. 
O most gentle jupiter, what tedious homily of Love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, have patience good people.  Cel. 
How now back friends: Shepherd, go off a little: go with him sirrah.  Clo● 
Come Shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.  Exit. Cel. 
Didst thou hear these verses?  Ros. 
O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feet than the Verses would bear.  Cel. 
That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses.  Ros. 
I, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.  Cel. 
But didst thou hear without wondering, how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?  Ros. 
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 berim d since Pythagoras' time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember.  Cel. 
Trow you, who hath done this?  Ros. 
Is it a man?  Cel. 
And a chain that you once wore about his neck: change you colour?  Ros. 
I, prithee who?  Cel. 
O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but Mountains may be removed with Earthquakes, and so encounter.  Ros. 
Nay, but who is it?  Cel. 
Is it possible?  Ros. 
Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.  Cel. 
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping.  Ros. 
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 I may drink thy tidings.  Cel. 
So you may put a man in your belly.  Ros. 
Is he of Gods making? What manner of man?  
Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?  Cel. 
Nay, he hath but a little beard.  Ros. 
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.  Cel. 
It is young Orlando, that tripped up the Wrestlers heels, and your heart, both in an instant.  Ros. 
Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak sad brow, and true maid.  Cel. 
I' faith (Coz) 'tis he.  Ros. 
Orlando?  Cel. 
Orlando.  Ros. 
Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he 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.  Cel. 
You must borrow me Gargantuas' mouth first: 'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Age's size, to say I and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a Catechism.  Ros. 
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?  Cel. 
It is as easy to count Atoms 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.  Ros. 
It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth fruit.  Cel. 
Give me audience, good Madam.  Ros. 
Proceed.  Cel. 
There lay he stretched along like a Wounded knight.  Ros. 
Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.  Cel. 
Cry holla, to the tongue, I prithee: it curuettes unseasonably. He was furnished like a Hunter.  Ros. 
O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart.  Cel. 
I would sing my song without a burden, thou bring'st me out of tune.  Ros. 
Do you not know I am a woman, when I think,  
I must speak: sweet, say on.  Enter Orlando & jaques. Cel. 
You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here?  Ros. 
'Tis he, slink by, and note him.  jaq 
I thank you for your company, but good faith  
I had as lief have been myself alone.  Orl. 
And so had I: but yet for fashion sake  
I thank you too, for your society.  jaq. 
God buy you, let's meet as little as we can.  Orl. 
I do desire we may be better strangers.  jaq. 
I pray you mar no more trees with Writing Lovesongs in their barks.  Orl. 
I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them illfavouredly.  jaq. 
Rosalinde is your love's name?  Orl. 
Yes, Just.  jaq. 
I do not like her name.  Orl. 
There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.  jaq. 
What stature is she of?  Orl. 
Just as high as my heart.  jaq. 
You are full of pretty answers: have you not been acquainted with goldsmith's wives, & con them out of rings  Orl. 
Not so: but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions.  jaq. 
You have a nimble wit; I think 'twas made of Attalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me, and we two, will rail against our Mistress the world, and all our misery.  Orl. 
I will chide no breather in the world but myself against whom I know most faults.  jaq. 
The worst fault you have, is to be in love.  Orl. 
'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best virtue: I am weary of you.  jaq. 
By my troth, I was seeking for a Fool, when I found you.  Orl. 
He is drowned in the brook, look but in, and you shall see him.  jaq. 
There I shall see mine own figure.  Orl. 
Which I take to be either a fool, or a Cipher.  jaq. 
I'll tarry no longer with you, farewell good signior Love..  Orl. 
I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Monsieur Melancholy.  Ros. 
I will speak to him like a saucy Lackey▪ and under that habit play the knave with him, do you hear Forester.  Orl. 
Very well, what would you?  Ros. 
I pray you, what is't a clock?  Orl. 
You should ask me what time o' day: there's no clock in the Forest.  Ros. 
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.  Orl. 
And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that been as proper?  Ros. 
By no means sir; Time travels in diverse paces, with diverse persons: I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.  Orl. 
I prithee, who doth he troth withal?  Ros. 
Marry he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnised: if the interim be but a seven-night, Time's pace is so hard, that it seems the length of seven year.  Orl. 
Who ambles Time withal?  Ros. 
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 life's 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.  Orl. 
Who doth he gallop withal?  Ros. 
With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.  Orl. 
Who stays it still withal?  Ros. 
With Lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep between Term and Term, and then they perceive not how time moves.  Orl. 
Where dwell you pretty youth?  Ros. 
With this Shepherdess my sister: here in the skirts of the Forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.  Orl. 
Are you native of this place?  Ros. 
As the Conie that you see dwell where she is kindled.  Orl. 
Your accent is something finer, than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling.  Ros. 
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 Lectors 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.  Orl. 
Can you remember any of the principal evils, that he laid to the charge of women?  Ros. 
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.  Orl. 
I prithee recount some of them.  Ros. 
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 Rosalinde on their barks; hangs Odes upon Hauthornes, and Elegies on brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde. If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the Quotidian of Love upon him.  Orl. 
I am he that is so Loue-shaked, I pray you tell me your remedy.  Ros. 
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 act not prisoner.  Orl. 
What were his marks?  Ros. 
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 brothers revennew) than your hose should be vngartered, 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, then seeming the Lover of any other.  Orl. 
Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I Love..  Ros. 
Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you Love believe it, which I warrant she is apt to do, then to confess she do's: 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?  Orl. 
I swear to thee youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.  Ros. 
But are you so much in love, as your rhymes speak?  Orl. 
Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.  Ros: 
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.  Orl. 
Did you ever cure any so?  Ros. 
Yes one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his Love, his Mistress: and I set him every day to woe 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 drove 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.  Orl. 
I would not be cured, youth.  Ros. 
I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my Coat, and woe me.  Orlan. 
Now by the faith of my love, I will; Tell me where it is.  Ros. 
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?  Orl. 
With all my heart, good youth.  Ros. 
Nay, you must call me Rosalind: Come sister, will you go?  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Clown, Audrey, & jaques: Clo. 
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?  Aud. 
Your features, Lord warrant us: what features?  Clo. 
I am here with thee, and thy Goats, as the most capricious Poet honest Ovid was among the Goths.  jaq. 
O knowledge ill inhabited, worse than love in a thatched house.  Clo. 
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.  Aud. 
I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in deed and word: is it a true thing?  Clo. 
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.  Aud. 
Do you wish then that the Gods had made me Poetical?  Clow. 
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.  Aud. 
Would you not have me honest?  Clo. 
No truly, unless thou wert hard favoured: for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have Honey a sauce to Sugar.  jaq. 
A material fool.  Aud. 
Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the Gods make me honest.  Clo. 
Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish.  Aud. 
I am not a slut, though I thank the Gods I am foul.  Clo. 
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 Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the Forest, and to couple us.  jaq. 
I would fain see this meeting.  Aud. 
Well, the Gods give us joy.  Clo. 
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 horne-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 then to want.  Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text. 
here comes Sir Oliver: Sir Oliver Mar-text you are well met. Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your Chapel?  Ol. 
Is there none here to give the woman?  Clo. 
I will not take her on gift of any man.  Ol. 
Truly she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.  jaq. 
Proceed, proceed: I'll give her.  Clo. 
Good even good Mr what ye call't: how do you Sir, you are very well met: goddild you for your last company, I am very glad to see you, even a toy in hand here Sir: Nay, pray be covered.  jaq. 
Will you be married, Motley?  Clo. 
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.  jaq. 
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, than one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber, warp, warp.  Clo. 
I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of him then 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.  jaq. 
Go thou with me,  
And let me counsel thee.  Ol. 
Come sweet Audrey,  
We must be married, or we must live in baudrey:  
Farewell good Mr Oliver: Not O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver leave me not behind thee: But wind away, be gone I say, I will not to wedding with thee.  Ol. 
'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall slout me out of my calling.  Exeunt  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter Rosalind & Celia. Ros. 
Never talk to me, I will weep.  Cel. 
Do I prithee, but yet have the grace to consider, that tears do not become a man.  Ros. 
But have I not cause to weep?  Cel. 
As good cause as one would desire,  
Therefore weep.  Ros. 
His very hair  
Is of the dissembling colour.  Cel. 
Something browner than judasses:  
Marry his kisses are judasses own children.  Ros. 
I' faith his hair is of a good colour.  Cel. 
An excellent colour:  
Your Chessenut was ever the only colour:  Ros. 
And his kissing is as full of sanctity,  
As the touch of holy bread.  Cel. 
He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a Nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously, the very ye of chastity is in them.  Rosa. 
But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?  Cel. 
Nay certainly there is no truth in him.  Ros. 
Do you think so?  Cel. 
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.  Ros. 
Not true in love?  Cel. 
Yes, when he is in, but I think he is not in.  Ros. 
You have heard him swear downright he was.  Cel. 
Was, is not is: besides, the oath of 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.  Ros. 
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?  Cel. 
O that's a brave man, he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite travers 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 enquired  
After the Shepherd that complained of love,  
Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph,  
Praising the proud disdainful Shepherdess  
That was his Mistress.  Cel. 
Well: and what of him?  Cor. 
If you will see a pageant truly played  
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.  Ros. 
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.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Siluius and Phebe. Sil. 
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 th' accustomed sight of death makes hard  
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,  
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be  
Then he that dies and life's by bloody drops?  Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. Phe. 
I would not be thy executioner,  
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee:  
Thou tellest me there is murder in mine eye,  
'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,  
That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,  
Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,  
Should be called 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, oh 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 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.  Sil. 
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.  Phe. 
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.  Ros. 
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  
Then 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 then in the ordinary  
Of Nature's sale-worke? 'ods 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-favoured 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,  
Fowl is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.  
So take her to thee Shepherd, far you well.  Phe. 
Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together,  
I had rather here you chide, than this man woo.  Ros. 
Heer fall'n in love with your foulness, & 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?  Phe. 
For no ill will I bear you.  Ros. 
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 tufft of Olives, here hard by:  
Will you go Sister? Shepheard 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.  Exit. Phe. 
Dead Shepherd, now I sinned thy saw of might,  
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?  Sil. 
Sweet Phebe.  Phe. 
Ha: what sayest thou Siluius?  Sil. 
Sweet Phebe pity me.  Phe. 
Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius.  Sil. 
Where ever 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.  Phe. 
Thou hast my love, is not that neighbourly?  Sil. 
I would have you.  Phe. 
Why that were covetousness:  
Siluius; 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  
Then thine own gladness, that thou art employed.  Sil. 
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: lose now and then  
A scattered smile, and that I'll live upon.  Phe. 
Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me yere-while?  Sil. 
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.  Phe. 
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  
Then that mixed in his cheek: 'twas just the difference  
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damask.  
There be some women Siluius, had they marked 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  
Have more cause to hate him then 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 remembered, scorned at me:  
I marvel why I answered not again,  
But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:  
I'll write to him a very tanting Letter,  
And thou shalt bear it, wilt thou Siluius?  Sil. 
Phebe, with all my heart.  Phe. 
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 Siluius.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and jaques. jaq. 
I prithee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted with thee.  Ros 
They say you are a melancholy fellow.  jaq. 
I am so: I do love it better than laughing.  Ros 
Those that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards.  jaq. 
Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.  Ros 
Why then 'tis good to be a post.  jaq. 
I have neither the Scholars melancholy, which is emulation: nor the Musicians, which is fantastical; nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Soldiers, which is ambitious: nor the Lawyers, which is politic: nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Lovers, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness.  Ros. 
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.  jaq. 
Yes, I have gained my experience.  Enter Orlando. Ros. 
And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad, and to travail for it too.  Orl. 
Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind.  jaq. 
Nay then God buy you, and you talk in blank verse.  Ros. 
Farewell Mounsieur Traveler: 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 swum in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where have you been all this while? you a lover? and you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.  Orl. 
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.  Ros. 
Break an hours promise in love? he that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o'th' shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart hole.  Orl. 
Pardon me dear Rosalind.  Ros. 
Nay, and you be so tardy, come no more in my sight, I had as lief be wooed of a Snail.  Orl. 
Of a Snail?  Ros. 
I, 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.  Orl. 
What's that?  Ros. 
Why horns: w r 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.  Orl. 
Virtue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind is virtuous.  Ros. 
And I am your Rosalind.  Cel. 
It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.  Ros. 
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, and I were your very, very Rosalind?  Orl. 
I would kiss before I spoke.  Ros. 
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.  Orl. 
How if the kiss be denied?  Ros. 
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there gins new matter.  Orl. 
Who could be out, being before his beloved Mistress?  Ros. 
Marry that should you if I were your Mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.  Orl. 
What, of my suit?  Ros. 
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit:  
Am not I your Rosalind?  Orl. 
I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her.  Ros. 
Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.  Orl. 
Then in mine own person, I die.  Ros. 
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 (videlicet) in a love cause: Trotlous 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 Midsomer-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 Chronoclers of that age, found it was Hero of Cestos. But these are all lies, men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.  Orl. 
I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frown might kill me.  Ros. 
By this hand, it will not kill a fly: but come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition: and ask me what you will, I will grant it.  Orl. 
Then love me Rosalind.  Ros. 
Yes faith will I, fridays and saterdays, and all.  Orl. 
And wilt thou have me?  Ros. 
I, and twenty such.  Orl. 
What sayest thou?  Ros. 
Are you not good?  Orl. 
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?  Orl. 
Pray thee marry us.  Cel. 
I cannot say the words.  Ros. 
You must begin, will you Orlando.  Cel. 
Go too: will you Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?  Orl. 
I will.  Ros. 
I, but when?  Orl. 
Why now, as fast as she can marry us.  Ros. 
Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for wife.  Orl. 
I take thee Rosalind for wife.  Ros. 
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.  Orl. 
So do all thoughts, they are winged.  Ros. 
Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have possessed her?  Orl. 
For ever, and a day.  Ros. 
Say a day, without the ever: no, no Orlando, men are April when they woe, 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 cocke-pidgeon 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, & I will do that when you are disposed to be merry: I will laugh like a Hyens, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.  Orl. 
But will my Rosalind do so?  Ros. 
By my life, she will do as I do.  Orl. 
O but she is wise.  Ros. 
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 keyhole: stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.  Orl. 
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, wit whether wilt?  Ros. 
Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.  Orl. 
And what wit could wit have, to excuse that?  Rosa. 
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.  Orl. 
For these two hours Rosalinde, I will leave thee.  Ros. 
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.  Orl. 
I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock I will be with thee again.  Ros. 
I, 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'clocke is your hour.  Orl. 
I, sweet Rosalind.  Ros. 
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 breake-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.  Orl. 
With no less religion, then if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu.  Ros. 
Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: adieu.  Exit. Cel. 
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.  Ros. 
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.  Cel. 
Or rather bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, in runs out.  Ros. 
No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and borne 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.  Cel. 
And I'll sleep.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter jaques and Lords, Foresters. jaq. 
Which is he that killed the Dear?  Lord. 
Sir, it was I.  jaq. 
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?  Lord. 
Yes Sir.  jaq. 
Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.  Music, Song. 

What shall he have that killed the Dear?  
His Leather skin, and bornes 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 borne,  
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.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Rosalind and Celia. Ros. 
How say you now, is it not past two a clock?  
And here much Orlando.  Cel. 
I warrant you, with pure love, & troubled brain,  Enter Siluius. 
He hath taken his bow and arrows, and is gone forth  
To sleep: look who comes here.  Sil. 
My errand is to you, fair youth,  
My gentle Phebe, did 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 tenure; pardon me,  
I am but as a guiltless messenger.  Ros. 
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: gods 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.  Sil. 
No, I protest, I know not the contents,  
Phebe did write it.  Ros. 
Come, come, you are a fool,  
And turned into the extremity of love.  
I saw her hand, she has a leathern hand,  
A freestone coloured hand: I verily did think  
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands:  
She has a huswives hand, but that's no matter:  
I say she never did invent this letter,  
This is a man's invention, and his hand.  Sil. 
Sure it is hers.  Ros. 
Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel stile,  
A stile for challengers: why, she defies me,  
Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain  
Can not drop forth such giant rude invention,  
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect  
Then in their countenance: will you hear the letter?  Sil. 
So please you, for I never heard it yet:  
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.  Ros. 
She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes.  
Read. Art thou god, to Shepherd turned?  
That a maiden's heart hath burned.  
Can a woman rail thus?  Sil. 
Call you this railing?  Ros. 
Read. Why, thy godhead laid a part,  
War'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 cine  
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.  Sil. 
Call you this chiding?  Cel. 
Alas poor Shepherd.  Ros. 
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. Sil. Enter Oliver. Oliu. 
Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, (if you know)  
Where in the Purlieuses of this Forest, stands  
A sheep-coat, fenced about with Olive-trees.  Cel. 
West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom  
The rank of Oziers', 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.  Oli. 
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?  Cel. 
It is no boast, being asked, to say we are.  Oli. 
Orlando doth commend him to you both,  
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind,  
He sends this bloody napkin; are you he?  Ros. 
I am: what must we understand by this?  Oli. 
Some of my shame, if you will know of me  
What man I am, and how, and why, and where  
This handkerchief was stained.  Cel. 
I pray you tell it.  Oli. 
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 old Oak, whose bows were mossed with age  
And high top, bald with dry antiquity:  
A wretched ragged man, ore-gowne with hair  
Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck  
A green and guilded snake had wreathed itself,  
Who with her head, nimble in threats approached  
The opening of his mouth: but suddenly  
Seeing Orlando, it vnlinked itself,  
And with indented glides, did slip away  
Into a bush, under which bushes shade  
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,  
Lay cowching 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.  Cel. 
O I have heard him speak of that same brother,  
And he did render him the most unnatural  
That lived amongst men.  Oli. 
And well he might so do,  
For well I know he was unnatural.  Ros. 
But to Orlando: did he leave him there  
Food to the sucked and hungry lioness?  Oli. 
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.  Cel. 
Are you his brother?  Ros. 
Was't you he rescued?  Cel. 
Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?  Oli. 
'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I do not shame  
To tell you what I was, since my conversion  
So sweeetly tastes, being the thing I am.  Ros. 
But for the bloody napkin?  Oli. 
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.  
I 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 stripped 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 Rosalinde.  
Brief, I recovered 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  
Died in this blood, unto the Shepherd youth,  
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.  Cel. 
Why how now Ganymede, sweet Ganymede.  Oli. 
Many will swoon when they do look on blood.  Cel. 
There is more in it; Cousin Ganymede.  Oli. 
Look, he recovers.  Ros. 
I would I were at home.  Cel. 
we'll lead you thither:  
I pray you will you take him, by the arm.  Oli. 
Be of good cheer youth: you a man?  
You lack a man's heart.  Ros. 
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.  Oli. 
This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest.  Ros. 
Counterfeit, I assure you.  Oli. 
Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.  Ros. 
So I do: but i'faith, I should have been a woman by right.  Cel. 
Come, you look paler and paler: pray you draw homewards: good sir, go with us.  Oli. 
That will I: for I must bear answer back  
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.  Ros. 
I shall device: something: but I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him: will you go?  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Clowne and Awdrie. Clow. 
We shall find a time Awdrie, patience gentle Awdrie.  Awed. 
Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.  Clow. 
A most wicked Sir Oliver, Awdrie, a most vile Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth here in the Forest lays claim to you.  Awed. 
I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean.  Enter William. Clo. 
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.  Will. 
Good even Audrey.  Aud. 
God ye good even William.  Will. 
And good even to you Sir.  Clo. 
Good even gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head: Nay prithee be eouered. How old are you Friend?  Will. 
Five and twenty Sir.  Clo. 
A ripe age: Is thy name William?  Will. 
William, sir.  Clo. 
A fair name. Was't borne i' th' Forest here?  Will. 
I sir, I thank God.  Clo. 
Thank God: A good answer:  
Art rich?  Will. 
I'faith sir, so, so.  Cle. 
So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:  
and yet it is not, it is but so, so:  
Art thou wise?  Will. 
I sir, I have a pretty wit.  Clo. 
Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying: The Fool doth think he is wise, but the wiseman knows himself to be a Foole. 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?  Will. 
I do sit.  Clo. 
Give me your hand: Art thou Learned?  Will. 
No sir.  Clo. 
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.  Will. 
Which he sir?  Clo. 
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 departed.  Aud. 
Do good William.  Will. 
God rest you merry sir.  Exit Enter Corin. Cor. 
Our Master and Mistress seeks you: come away, away.  Clo. 
Trip Audery, trip Audery, I attend, I attend.  Exeunt  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Orlando & Oliver. Orl. 
Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you should love her? And loving woe? and wooing, she should grant? And will you persever to enjoy her?  Ol. 
Neither call the giddiness of it in question; the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor sudden consenting: but say with me, I love Aliena: say with her, that she love's me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each other: it shall be to your good: for my father's house, and all the revennew, that was old Sir rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live and die a Shepherd.  Enter Rosalind. Orl. 
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 Rosalinde.  Ros. 
God save you brother.  Ol. 
And you fair sister.  Ros. 
Oh my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.  Orl. 
It is my arm.  Ros. 
I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a Lion.  Orl. 
Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady.  Ros. 
Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to sound, when he showed me your handkerchief?  Orl. 
I, and greater wonders than that.  Ros. 
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 overcome. 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.  Orl. 
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.  Ros. 
Why then to morrow, I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?  Orl. 
I can live no longer by thinking.  Ros. 
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 arc: 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 Rosalinde so near the hart, 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 to morrow, humane as she is, and without any danger.  Orl. 
Speakest thou in sober meanings?  Ros. 
By my life I do, which I tender dear, 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 Siluius & Phebe. 
Look, here comes a Lover of mine, and a lover of hers.  Phe. 
Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,  
To show the letter that I writ to you.  Ros. 
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.  Phe. 
Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love  Sil. 
It is to be all made of sighs and tears,  
And so am I for Phebe.  Phe. 
And I for Ganymede.  Orl. 
And I for Rosalind.  Ros 
And I for no woman.  Sil. 
It is to be all made of faith and service,  
And so am I for Phebe.  Phe. 
And I for Ganymede.  Orl. 
And I for Rosalind.  Ros. 
And I for no woman.  Sil. 
It is to be all made of fantasy▪  
All made of passion, and all made oathes,  
All adoration, duty, and obseruance,  
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,  
All purity, all trial, all observance:  
And so am I for Phebe.  Phe. 
And so am I for Ganymede.  Orl. 
And so am I for Rosalind.  Ros. 
And so am I for no woman.  Phe. 
If this be so, why blame you me to love you?  Sil. 
If this be so, why blame you me to love you?  Orl. 
If this be so, why blame you me to love you?  Ros. 
Why do you speak too. Why blame you me to love you.  Orl. 
To her, that is not here, nor doth not hear.  Ros. 
Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling of Irish Wolves against the Moon: I will help you if I can: I would love you if I could: To morrow meet me altogether: I will marry you, if ever I marry Woman, and I'll be married to morrow: I will satisfy you▪ if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to morrow. I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married to morrow: As you love Rosalind meet, as you love Phebe meet, and as I love no woman, I'll meet: so far you well: I have left you commands.  Sil. 
I'll not fail, if I live.  Phe. 
Nor I.  Orl. 
Nor I.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Clowne and Audrey. Cl● 
To morrow is the joyful day Audrey, to morrow will we be married.  Aud. 
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 come two of the banished Duke's Pages.  Enter two Pages. 1. Pa. 
Well met honest Gentleman.  Clo. 
By my troth well met: come, sit, sit, and a song.  2. Pa. 
We are for you, sit i' th' middle.  1. Pa. 
Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice.  2. Pa. 
I faith, ye 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 hay nonino,  
That o'er the green corn field did pass,  
In the spring time, the only pretty rang time.  
When Birds do sing, hay ding a ding, ding.  
Sweet Lovers love the spring,  
And therefore take the present time.  
With a hey, & a ho, and a hay nonino,  
For love is crowned with the prime.  
In spring time, etc.   

Between the acres of the Rye,  
With a hey, and a ho, & a hay nonino:  
These pretty Country folks would lie.  
In spring time, etc.   

This Carol they began that hour,  
With a hey and a ho, & a hay nonino:  
How that a life was but a Flower,  
In spring time, etc.    Clo. 
Truly young Gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untunable  1. Pa. 
you are deceived Sir, we kept time, we lost not our time.  Clo. 
By my troth yes: I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God buy you, and God mend your voices. Come Audrie.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Duke Signior, Amiens, jaques, Orlando, Oliver, Celia. Du. Sen. 
Dost thou believe Orlando, that the boy  
Can do all this that he hath promised?  Orl. 
I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not,  
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.  Enter Rosalinde, Siluius, & Phebe. Ros. 
Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged:  
You say, if I bring in your Rosalinde,  
You will bestow her on Orlando here?  Du. Se. 
That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.  Ros. 
And you say you will have her, when I bring her?  Orl. 
That would I, were I of all kingdoms King.  Ros. 
You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing.  Phe. 
That will I, should I die the hour after.  Ros. 
But if you do refuse to marry me,  
You'll give yourself to this most faithful Shepherd.  Phe. 
So is the bargain.  Ros. 
You say that you'll have Phebe if she will.  Sil. 
Though to have her and death, were both one thing.  Ros. 
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 you your word Phebe, that you'll marry me,  
Or else refusing me to wed this shepherd:  
Keep your word Siluius, that you'll marry her  
If she refuse me, and from hence I go  
To make these doubts all even.  Exit Ros. and Celia. Du. Sen. 
I do remember in this shepherd boy,  
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.  Orl. 
My Lord, the first time that I ever saw him,  
Me thought he was a brother to your daughter:  
But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest borne,  
And hath been tutored in the rudiments  
Of many desperate studies, by his uncle,  
Whom he reports to be a great Magician.  Enter Clowne and Audrey. 
Obscured in the circle of this Forest.  jaq. 
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.  Clo. 
Salutation and greeting to you all.  jaq. 
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.  Clo. 
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.  jaq. 
And how was that ta'en up?  Clo. 
I'faith we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.  jaq. 
How seventh cause? Good my Lord, like this fellow.  Du. Se. 
I like him very well.  Clo. 
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.  Du. Se. 
By my faith, he is very swift, and sententious  Clo. 
According to the fool's bolt sir, and such dulcet diseases.  jaq. 
But for the seventh cause. How did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?  Clo. 
Upon a lie, seven times removed: (bear your body more seeming Audery) 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 judgement: this is called, the reply churlish. If again it was not well cut, he would answer I spoke not true: this is called the reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: this is called the countercheck quarrelsome: and so to lie circumstantial, and the lie direct.  jaq. 
And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?  Clo. 
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.  jaq. 
Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of the lie.  Clo. 
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 fift, the Countercheck quarrelsome: the sixth, the Lie with circumstance: the seaventh, 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, than I said so: and they shaken hands, and swore brothers. Your If, is the only peacemaker: much virtue in if.  jaq. 
Is not this a rare fellow my Lord? He's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.  Du. Se. 
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 his hand with his,  
Whose heart within his bosom is.   Ros. 
To you I give myself, for I am yours.  
To you I give myself, for I am yours.  Du. Se. 
If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.  Orl. 
If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.  Phe. 
If sight & shape be true, why then my love adieu  Ros. 
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.  Hy. 
Peace hoa: 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 hart in hart:  
You, to his love must accord,  
Or have a Woman to your Lord.  
You and you, are sure together,  
As the Winter to fowl 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 junos' crown,  
O blessed bond of board and bed:  
'Tis Hymen peoples every town,  
High wedlock then be honoured:  
Honour, high honour and renowns  
To Hymen, God of every Town.   Du. Se. 
O my dear Niece, welcome thou art to me,  
Even daughter welcome, in no less degree.  Phe. 
I will not eat my word, now thou art mine,  
Thy faith, my fancy to thee doth combine.  Enter Second Brother. 2. Bro. 
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,  
Addressed 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 banished Brother,  
And all their Lands restored to him again  
That were with him exiled. This to be true,  
I do engage my life.  Du. Se. 
Welcome young man:  
Thou offerest fairly to thy brother's 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 weet 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.  
Mean time, forget this newfallen dignity,  
And fall into our Rustic Revelry:  
Play Music, and you Brides and Bridegrooms all,  
With measure heaped in joy, to ' th' Measures fall.  jaq. 
Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly,  
The Duke hath put on a Religious life,  
And thrown into neglect the pompous Court.  2. Bro. 
He hath.  jaq. 
To him will I: out of these convertites,  
There is much matter to be heard, and learned:  
you to your former Honour, I bequeath  
your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it.  
you to a love, that your true faith doth merit:  
you to your land, and love, and great allies:  
you to a long, and well-deserued bed:  
And you to wrangling, for thy loving voyage  
Is but for two months victualled: So to your pleasures,  
I am for other, then for dancing meazures.  Du. Se. 
Stay, jaques, stay.  jaq. 
To see no pastime, I: what you would have,  
I'll stay to know, at your abandoned cave.  Exit. Du. Se. 
Proceed, proceed: we'll begin these rights,  
As we do trust, they'll end in true delights.—  Exit Ros. 
It is not the fashion to see the Lady the Epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, then 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 defi'de 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.  Exit.   
FINIS.   

THE Taming of the Shrew.  

Actus primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Begger and Hosts, Christopher Sly. Beggar. 
I'll pheeze you in faith.  Host. 
A pair of stocks you rogue.  Beg. 
YE are a baggage, the Slies' are no Rogues. Look in the Chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa.  Host. 
You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?  Beg. 
No, not a denier: go by S. jeronimie, go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.  Host. 
I know my remedy, I must go fetch the Head-borough.  Beg. 
Third, or fourth, or fift Borough, I'll answer him by Law. I'll not budge an inch boy: Let him come, and kindly.  Falls asleep. Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train. Lo. 
Huntsman I charge thee, tender well my hounds,  
Brach Meriman, the poor Cur is embossed,  
And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouthed brach,  
Saw'st thou not boy how Silver made it good  
At the hedge corner, in the couldst fault,  
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.  Hunts. 
Why Bellman is as good as he my Lord,  
He cried upon it at the merest loss,  
And twice to day picked out the dullest sent,  
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 intent to hunt again.  Hunts. 
I will my Lord.  Lord. 
What's here? One dead, or drunk? See doth he breath?  2. Hun. 
He breath's my Lord. Were he not warmed with Ale, this were a bed but cold to sleep so sound.  Lord. 
Oh 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 conveyed to bed,  
Wrapped 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?  1. Hun. 
Believe me Lord, I think he cannot choose.  2. H. 
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 strait  
(And with a low submissive reverence)  
Say, what is it your Honour will command:  
Let one attend him with a silver Bason  
Full of Rose-water, and bestrewed with Flowers,  
Another bear the Ewer: the third a Diaper,  
And say wilt please your Lordship ●oole 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.  1. Hunts. 
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.  Sound trumpet's. 
Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that sounds,  
Belike some Noble Gentleman that means  
(Travelling some journey) to repose him here.  Enter Servingman. 
How now? who is it?  Ser. 
An't please your Honour, Players  
That offer service to your Lordship.  Enter Player's. Lord. 
Bid them come near:  
Now fellows, you are welcome.  Players. 
We thank your Honor.  Lord. 
Do you intent to stay with me to night?  2. Player. 
So please your Lordship to accept our duty.  Lord. 
With all my heart. This fellow I remember,  
Since once he played a Farmer's eldest son,  
'Twas where you wooed the Gentlewoman so well:  
I have forgot your name: but sure that part  
Was aptly fitted, and naturally performed.  Sincklo. 
I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.  Lord. 
'Tis very true, thou didst it excellent:  
Well you are come to me in 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-cying of his odd behaviour,  
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.  Flai. 
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 Bartholomew my Page,  
And see him dressed 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 over-ioyed  
To see her noble Lord restored to health,  
Who for this seven years hath esteemed 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 conveyed)  
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye:  
See this dispatched with all the hast thou canst,  
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.  Exit a servingman. 
I know the boy will well usurp the grace,  
Voice, gate, 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-merrie spleen,  
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.  Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, some with apparel, Basin and Ewer, & other appurtenances, & Lord. Beg. 
For God's sake a pot of small Ale.  1. Ser. 
Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of sack?  2. Ser. 
Wilt please your Honour taste of these Conserves?  3. Ser. 
What raiment will your honour wear to day.  Beg. 
I am Christopher 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 sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.  Lord. 
Heaven cease this idle humour in your Honor.  
Oh that a mighty man of such descent,  
Of such possessions, and so high esteem  
Should be infused with so foul a spirit.  Beg. 
What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sies son of Burton-heath, by birth a Pedlar, by education a Card-maker, by transmutation a Beareheard, and now by present profession a Tinker. Ask Marrian Hacket the fat Alewife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not xiiii. d. on the score for shear Ale, score me up for the lyingst knave in Christendom. What I am not distraught: here's—  3. Man. 
Oh this it is that makes your Lady mourn.  2 Mar. 
Oh 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.  
Oh 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 trimmed up for Semiramis.  
Say thou wilt walk: we will bestrow the ground.  
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapped,  
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.  1 Man. 
Say thou wilt coarse, thy grayhounds are as swift  
As breathed Stags: I fleeter than the Roe.  2 M. 
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.  3. Man. 
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 workmanlie the blood and tears are drawn.  Lord. 
Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord:  
Thou hast a Lady fare more Beautiful,  
Then any woman in this waning age.  1 Man. 
And till the tears that she hath shed for thee,  
Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face,  
She was the fairest creature in the world,  
And yet she is inferior to none.  Beg. 
Am I a Lord, and have I such a Lady?  
Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed 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 Christopher Sly.  
Well, bring our Lady hither to our sight,  
And once again a pot o' th' smallest Ale.  2. Man. 
Wilt please your mightiness to wash your hands:  
Oh how we joy to see your wit restored,  
Oh 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.  Beg. 
These fifteen years, by my faith, a goodly nap,  
But did I never speak of all that time.  1. Man. 
Oh 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 prosent her at the Leete,  
Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no sealed quarts:  
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.  Beg. 
I, the woman's maid of the house.  3. man. 
Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid  
Nor no such men as you have reckoned up,  
As Stephen Sly, and old 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.  Beg. 
Now Lord be thanked for my good amends.  All. 
Amen.  Enter Lady with Attendants. Beg. 
I thank thee, thou shalt not lose by it.  Lady. 
How fares my noble Lord?  Beg. 
Marry I far well, for here is cheer enough.  
Where is my wife?  La. 
here noble Lord, what is thy will with her?  Beg. 
Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?  
My men should call me Lord, I am your goodman.  La. 
My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband  
I am your wife in all obedience.  Beg. 
I know it well, what must I call her?  Lord. 
Madam.  Beg. 
Alce Madam, or jone Madam?  Lord. 
Madam, and nothing else, so Lords call Ladies  Beg. 
Madame wife, they say that I have dreamed,  
And slept above some fifteen year or more.  Lady. 
I, and the time seems thirty unto me,  
Being all this time abandoned from your bed.  Beg. 
'Tis much, servants leave me and her alone:  
Madam undress you, and come now to bed.  La. 
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.  Beg. 
I, 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 & the blood  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
Your Honour's Players hearing your amendment,  
Are come to play a pleasant Comedy.  
For so your doctors hold it very meet,  
Seeing too much sadness hath congealed 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.  Beg. 
Marry I will let them play, it is not a Comontie, a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling trick?  Lady. 
No my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.  Beg. 
What, household stuff.  Lady. 
It is a a kind of history.  Beg. 
Well, we'll see't:  
Come Madam wife sit by my side,  
And let the world slip, we shall ne'er be younger.  Flourish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Triano. Luc. 
Tranio, since for the great desire I had  
To see fair Milan, nursery of Arts,  
I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,  
The pleasant garden of great Italy,  
And by my father's love and leave am armed  
With his good will, and thy good company.  
My trusty servant well approved in all,  
here let us breath, and haply institute  
A course of Learning, and ingenious studies.  
Pisa renowned for grave Citizens  
Gave me my being, and my father first  
A Merchant of great Traffic through the world:  
Vincentio's come of the Bentinolijs,  
Vincentio's son, borough 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 Milan come, as he that leaves  
A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deep,  
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.  Tra. 
Me Pardonato, 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 checks  
As Ovid; be an outcast quite abjured:  
Balk Lodgicke 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.  Luc. 
Gramercies Tranio, well dost thou advice,  
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 Milan shall beget.  
But stay a while, what company is this?  Tra. 
Master some show to welcome us to Town.  Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katerina & Bianca, Gremio a Pantelowne, Hortentio sister to Bianca. Lucen. Tranio, stand by. Bap. 
Gentlemen, importune me no farther,  
For how I firmly am resolu●d you know:  
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter,  
Before I have a husband for the elder:  
If either of you both love Katherine,  
Because I know you well, and love you well,  
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.  Gre. 
To cart her rather. She's to rough for me,  
There, there Hortensio, will you any Wife?  Kate. 
I pray you sir, is it your will  
To make a stolen of me amongst these mates?  Hor. 
Mates maid, how mean you that?  
No mates for you,  
Unless you were of gentler milder mould.  Kate. 
I' faith sir, you shall never need to fear,  
Iwis 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-legged stool,  
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.  Hor. 
From all such devils, good Lord deliver us.  Gre. 
And me too, good Lord.  Tra. 
Hushed master, here's some good pastime toward;  
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.  Lucen. 
But in the others silence do I see,  
Maids mild behaviour and sobriety.  
Peace Tranio.  Tra. 
Well said Mr, mum, and gaze your fill.  Bap. 
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.  Kate. 
A pretty peat, it is best put finger in the eye, and she knew why.  Bian. 
Sister content you, in my discontent.  
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:  
My books and instruments shall be my company,  
On them to look, and practise by myself.  Luc. 
Hark Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak.  Hor. 
Signior Baptista, will you be so strange,  
Sorry am I that our good will effects  
Bianca's grief.  Gre. 
Why will you mew her up  
(Signior Baptista) for this fiend of hell,  
And make her bear the penance of her tongue.  Bap. 
Gentlemen content ye: I am resould:  
Go in 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: Katherine you may stay,  
For I have more to commune with Bianca.  Exit. Kate. 
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. Gre. 
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.  Hor. 
So will I signior Gremio: but a word I pray: Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked parley, know now upon advice, it toucheth us both: that we may yet again have access to our fair Mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love, to labour and effect one thing specially.  Gre. 
What's that I pray?  Hor. 
Marry sir to get a husband for her Sister.  Gre. 
A husband: a devil.  Hor. 
I say a husband.  Gre. 
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?  Hor. 
Tush Gremio: though it pass your patience & mine to endure her loud alarms, why man there be good fellows in the world, and a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and money enough.  Gre. 
I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition; To be whipped at the high cross every morning.  Hor. 
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 fare forth friendly maintained, till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have too t afresh: Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: he that runs fastest, gets the Ring: How say you signior Gremio?  Grem. 
I am agreed, and would I had given him the best horse in Milan to begin his wooing that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.  Exeunt ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio Tra. 
I pray sir tell me, is it possible  
That love should of a sudden take such hold.  Luc. 
Oh 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.  Tra. 
Master, it is no time to chide you now,  
Affection is not rated from the heart:  
If love have touched you, naught remains but so,  
Redime te captam quam queas minimo.  Luc 
Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents,  
The rest will comfort, for thy counsels sound.  Tra. 
Master, you looked so longly on the maid,  
Perhaps you marked not what's the pith of all.  Luc. 
Oh 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 kissed the Cretan strand.  Tra. 
Saw you no more? Marked you not how her sister  
Began to scold, and raise up such a storm,  
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din.  Luc. 
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.  Tra. 
Nay, then 'tis time to stir him from his trance:  
I pray awake sir: if you love the Maid,  
bend thoughts and wits to atcheeve her. Thus it stands:  
Her elder sister is so cursed 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 moved her up,  
Because she will not be annoyed with suitors.  Luc. 
Ah Tranio, what a cruel Fathers he:  
But art thou not advised, he took some care  
To get her cunning Schoolmasters to instruct her.  Tra. 
I marry am I sir, and now 'tis plotted.  Luc. 
I have it Tranio.  Tra. 
Master, for my hand,  
Both our inventions meet and jump in one.  Luc. 
Tell me thine first.  Tra. 
You will be schoolmaster,  
And undertake the teaching of the maid:  
That's your device.  Luc. 
It is: May it be done?  Tra. 
Not possible: for who shall bear your part,  
And be in Milan here Vincentio's son,  
Keep house, and ply his book, welcome his friends,  
Visit his Countrymen, and banquet them?  Luc. 
Basta, content thee: for I have it full.  
We have not yet been seen in any house,  
Nor can we be distinguished by our faces,  
For man or master: than 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 hatched, and shall be so: Tranio at once  
Uncase thee: take my Conlord hat and cloak,  
When Biondello comes, he waits on thee,  
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.  Tra. 
So had you need:  
In breeze 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.  Luc. 
Tranio be so, because Lucentio love's,  
And let me be a slave, t' achieve that maid.  
Whose sudden sight hath thralled my wounded eye.  Enter Biondello. 
here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been?  Bion. 
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?  Luc. 
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 a shore,  
I killed 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?  Bion. 
I sir, ne'er a whit.  Luc. 
And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth,  
Tranio is changed into Lucentio.  Bion. 
The better for him, would I were so too.  Tra. 
So could I 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 masters, I advice you use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in all places else, you master Lucentio.  Luc. 
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 speaks. 1. Man. 
My Lord you nod, you do not mind the play.  Beg. 
Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter surely:  
Comes there any more of it?  Lady. 
My Lord, 'tis but begun.  Beg. 
'Tis a very excellent piece of work, Madame Lady: would 'twere done.  They sit and mark. Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio. Petr. 
Verona, for a while I take my leave,  
To see my friends in Milan; but of all  
My best beloved and approved friend  
Hortensio: & I trow this is his house:  
here sirrah Grumio, knock I say.  Gru. 
Knock sir? whom should I knock? Is there any man has abused your worship?  Petr. 
Villain I say, knock me here sound.  Gru. 
Knock you here sir? Why sir, what am I sir, that I should knock you here sir.  Petr. 
Villain I say, knock me at this gate,  
And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.  Gru. 
My Mr is grown quarrelsome:  
I should knock you first,  
And then I know after who comes by the worst.  Petr. 
Will it not be?  
I'faith sirrah, and you'll not knock, I'll ring it,  
I'll try how you can Sol, Fa, and sing it.  He rings him by the ears Gru. 
Help mistress help, my master is mad.  Petr. 
Now knock when I bid you: sirrah villain.  Enter Hortensio. Hor. 
How now, what's the matter? My old friend Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio? How do you all at Verona?  Petr. 
Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?  
Contutti le core bene trobatto, may I say.  Hor. 
Alla nostra casa bene venuto multo honorata signior mio Petruchio.  
Rise Grumio rise, we will compound this quarrel.  Gru. 
Nay 'tis no matter sir, what he leges in Latin. If this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service, look you sir: He bid me knock him, & rap him sound sir. Well, was it fit for a servant to use his master so, being perhaps (for aught I see) two and thirty, a peep out? Whom would to God I had well knocked at first, than had not Grumio come by the worst.  Petr. 
A senseless villain: good Hortensio,  
I had the rascal knock upon your gate,  
And could not get him for my heart to do it.  Gru. 
Knock at the gate? O heavens: spoke you not these words plain? Sirrah, Knock me here: rap me here: knock me well, and knock me sound? And come you now with knocking at the gate?  Petr. 
Sirrah be gone, or talk not I advice you  Hor. 
Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge:  
Why this 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 Milan here, from old Verona?  Petr. 
Such wind as scatters youngmen 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,  
Happily 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.  Hor. 
Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,  
And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favoured wife?  
thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel:  
And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich,  
And very rich: but th' art too much my friend,  
And I'll not wish thee to her.  Petr. 
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 Sibell, and as cursed and shroud  
As Socrates Zentippe, or a worse:  
She moves me not, or not removes at least  
Affections edge in me. Were she is as rough  
As are the swelling Adriaticke seas.  
I come to wive it wealthily in Milan:  
If wealthily, then happily in Milan.  Gru. 
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.  Hor. 
Petruchio, since we are stepped thus fare in,  
I will continue that I broached 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 cursed,  
And shroud, and froward, so beyond all measure,  
That were my state fare worse than it is,  
I would not wed her for a mine of Gold.  Petr. 
Hortensio peace: thou know'st not golds 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.  Hor. 
Her father is Baptista Minola,  
An affable and courteous Gentleman,  
Her name is Katherine Minola,  
Renowned in Milan for her scolding tongue.  Petr. 
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.  Gru. 
I pray you Sir let him go while the humour lasts. A my word, and 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; and he begin once, he'll rail in his rope tricks. I'll tell you what sir, and 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 then a Cat: you know him not sir.  Hor. 
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 Bianca,  
And her withholds from me. Other more  
Suitors to her, and rivals in my Love:  
Supposing it a thing impossible,  
For those defects I have before rehearsed,  
That ever Katherine will be wooed:  
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,  
That none shall have access unto Bianca,  
Till Katherine the Cursed, have got a husband.  Gru. 
Katherine the cursed,  
A title for a maid, of all titles the worst.  Hor. 
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.  Enter Gremio and Lucentio disgused. Gru. 
here's no knavery. See, to beguile the old-folks, how the young folks lay their heads together. Master, master, look about you: Who goes there? ha'.  Hor. 
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 Largesse. 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.  Luc. 
What ere 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.  Gre. 
Oh this learning, what a thing it is.  Gru. 
Oh this Woodcock, what an Ass it is.  Petru. 
Peace sirrah.  Hor. 
Grumio mum: God save you signior Gremio.  Gre. 
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 behaviour  
Fit for her turn, well read in Poetry  
And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.  Hor. 
'Tis well: and I have met a Gentleman  
Hath promised me to help one 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.  Gre. 
Beloved of me, and that my deeds shall prove.  Gru. 
And that his bags shall prove.  Hor. 
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 woe cursed Katherine,  
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.  Gre. 
So said, so done, is well:  
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?  Petr. 
I know she is an irksome brawling scold:  
If that be all Masters, I hear no harm.  Gre. 
No, sayest me so, friend? What Countryman?  Petr. 
Born in Verona, old Butonios' son:  
My father dead, my fortune life's for me,  
And I do hope, good days and long, to see.  Gre. 
Oh sir, such a life with such a wife, were strange:  
But if you have a stomach, too't a Gods name,  
You shall have me assisting you in all.  
But will you woe this Wilde-cat?  Petr. 
Will I live?  Gru. 
Will he woe her? I: or I'll hang her.  Petr. 
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, puffed 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 alarms, neighing steeds, & trumpets clangue▪  
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.  Gru. 
For he fears none.  Grem. 
Hortensio hark:  
This Gentleman is happily arrived,  
My mind presumes for his own good, and yours.  Hor. 
I promised we would be Contributors,  
And bear his charge of wooing whatsoever.  Gremio. 
And so we will, provided that he win her.  Gru. 
I would I were as sure of a good dinner.  Enter Tranio brave, and Biondello. Tra. 
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?  Bion. 
He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean?  Tra. 
Even he Biondello.  Gre. 
Hark you sir, you mean not her to—  Tra. 
Perhaps him and her sir, what have you to do?  Petr. 
Not her that chides sir, at any hand I pray.  Tranio. 
I love no chiders sir: Biondello, let's away.  Luc 
Well begun Tranio.  Hor. 
Sir, a word ere you go:  
Are you a suitor to the Maid you talk of, yea or no?  Tra. 
And if I be sir, is it any offence?  Gremio. 
No: if without more words you will get you hence.  Tra. 
Why sir, I pray are not the streers as free  
For me, as for you?  Gre. 
But so is not she.  Tra. 
For what reason I beseech you.  Gre. 
For this reason if you'll know,  
That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.  Hor. 
That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio.  Tra. 
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.  Gre. 
What, this Gentleman will out-talk us all.  Luc. 
Sir give him head, I know he'll prove a jade.  Petr. 
Hortensio, to what end are all these words?  Hor. 
Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,  
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?  Tra. 
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.  Petr. 
Sir, sir, the first's for me, let her go by.  Gre. 
Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules,  
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.  Petr. 
Sir understand you this of me (insooth)  
The youngest daughter whom you harken 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 than is free, and nor before.  Tranio. 
If it be so sir, that you are the man  
Must steed us all, and me amongst the rest:  
And if you break the ice, and do this seek,  
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.  Hor. 
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.  Gru. Bion. 
Oh excellent motion: fellows let's be gone.  Hor. 
The motions good indeed, and be it so,  
Petruchio, I shall be your Been venuto.  Exeunt. Enter Katherine and Bianca. Bian. 
Good sister wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,  
To make a bondmaide and a slave of me,  
That I disdain: but for these other goods,  
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.  Kate. 
Of all thy suitors here I charge tell  
Whom thou lov'st 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.  Kate. 
Minion thou liest: Is't not Hortensio?  Bian. 
If you affect him sister, here I swear  
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.  Kate. 
Oh then belike you fancy riches more,  
You will have Gremio to keep you fair.  Bian. 
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.  Ka. 
If that be jest, than all the rest was so.  striketh her Enter Baptista. Bap. 
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 Hilding of a devilish spirit,  
Why dost thou wrong her, that did ne'er wrong thee?  
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?  Kate. 
Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.  Flies after Bianca Bap. 
What in my sight? Bianca get thee in.  Exit. Kate. 
What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see  
She is your treasure, she must have a husband,  
I must dance barefoot 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.  Bap. 
Was ever Gentleman thus grieved as I?  
But who comes here.  Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a mean man, Petruchio with Tranio, with his boy bearing a Lute and Books. Gre. 
Good morrow neighbour Baptista.  Bap. 
Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God save you Gentlemen.  Pet. 
And you good sir: pray have you not a daughter, called Katerina, fair and virtuous.  Bap. 
I have a daughter sir, called Katerina.  Gre. 
You are too blunt, go to it orderly.  Pet. 
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 behaviour,  
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  
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 Litio, borne in Mantua.  Bap. 
YE are welcome sir, and he for your good sake.  
But for my daughter Katerine, this I know,  
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.  Pet. 
I see you do not mean to part with her,  
Or else you like not of my company.  Bap. 
Mistake me not, I speak but as I find,  
Whence are you sir? What may I call your name.  Pet. 
Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son,  
A man well known throughout all Italy.  Bap. 
I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.  Gre. 
Saving your tale Petruchio, I pray let us that are poor petitioners speak too? Bacare, you are marvellous forward.  Pet. 
Oh, Pardon me signior Gremio, I would fain be doing.  Gre. 
I doubt it not sir. But you will curse  
Your wooing neighbours: 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 then any:  
Freely give unto this young Scholar, 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.  Bap. 
A thousand thankes signior Gremio:  
Welcome good Cambio. But gentle sir,  
Me thinks you walk like a stranger,  
May I be so bold, to know the cause of your coming?  Tra. 
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 woe,  
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, than their worth is great:  Bap. 
Lucentio is your name, of whence I pray.  Tra. 
Of Pisa sir, son to Vincentio.  Bap. 
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,  
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.  Pet. 
Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,  
And every day I cannot come to woe,  
You knew my father well, and in him me,  
Left solely heir to all his Lands and goods,  
Which I have bettered rather than decreased,  
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,  
What dowry shall I have with her to wife.  Bap. 
After my death, the one half of my Lands,  
And in possession twenty thousand Crowns.  Pet 
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.  Bap. 
I, when the special thing is well obtained,  
That is her love: for that is all in all.  Pet. 
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 woe not like a babe.  Bap. 
Well mayst thou woe, and happy be thy speed:  
But be thou armed for some unhappy words.  Pet. 
I to the proof, as Mountains are for winds,  
That shakes not, though they blow perpetually.  Enter Hortensio with his head broke. Bap. 
How now my friend, why dost thou look so pale?  Hor. 
For fear I promise you, if I look pale.  Bap. 
What, will my daughter prove a good Musician?  Hor. 
I think she'll sooner prove a soldier,  
Iron may hold with her, but never Lutes.  Bap. 
Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?  Hor. 
Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me:  
I did but tell her she mistook her frets,  
And bowed 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, Fidler,  
And twangling lack, with twenty such vild terms,  
As had she studied to misuse me so.  Pet. 
Now by the world, it is a lusty Wench,  
I love her ten times more than ere I did,  
Oh how I long to have some chat with her.  Bap. 
Well go with me, and be not so discomfited.  
Proceed in practice 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.  Exit. Manet Petruchio. Pet. 
I pray you do. I'll attend her here,  
And woe her with some spirit when she comes,  
Say that she rail, why then I'll tell her plain,  
She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale:  
Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear  
As morning Roses newly washed with dew:  
Say she be mute, and will not speak a word,  
Then I'll commend her volubility,  
And say she utcereth piercing eloquence:  
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thankes,  
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 banes, and when be married.  
But here she comes, and now Petruchio speak.  Enter Katerina. 
Good morrow Kate, for that's your name I hear.  Kate. 
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:  
They call me Katerine, that do talk of me.  Pet. 
You lie infaith, for you are called plain Kate,  
And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the cursed:  
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,  
Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie 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 woe thee for my wife.  Kate. 
Moved, in good time, let him that moved you hither  
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first  
You were a movable.  Pet. 
Why, what's a movable?  Kat. 
A joined stool.  Pet. 
Thou hast hit it: come sit on me.  Kate. 
Asses are made to bear, and so are you.  Pet. 
Women are made to bear, and so are you.  Kate. 
No such jade as you, if me you mean.  Pet. 
Alas good Kate, I will not burden thee,  
For knowing thee to be but young and light.  Kate. 
Too light for such a swain as you to catch,  
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.  Pet. 
Should be, should: buzz.  Kate. 
Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.  Pet. 
Oh slow-winged Turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?  Kat. 
I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzzard.  Pet. 
Come, come you Wasp, ye faith you are too angry.  Kate. 
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.  Pet. 
My remedy is then to pluck it out.  Kate. 
I, if the fool could find it where it lies.  Pet. 
Who knows not where a Wasp does, wear his sting? In his tail.  Kate. 
In his tongue?  Pet. 
Whose tongue.  Kate. 
Yours if you talk of tales, and so farewell.  Pet. 
What with my tongue in your tail.  
Nay, come again, good Kate, I am a Gentleman,  Kate. 
That I'll try.  she strikes him Pet. 
I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.  Kate. 
So may you lose your arms,  
If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,  
And if no Gentleman, why then no arms.  Pet. 
A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy books.  Kate. 
What is your Crest, a Coxcomb?  Pet. 
A comblesse Cock, so Kate will be my Hen.  Kate. 
No Cock of mine, you crow too like a craven  Pet. 
Nay come Kate, come: you must not look so sour.  Kate. 
It is my fashion when I see a Crab.  Pet. 
Why here's no crab, and therefore look not sour.  Kate. 
There is, there is.  Pet. 
Then show it me.  Kate. 
Had I a glass, I would.  Pet. 
What, you mean my face.  Kate. 
Well aimed of such a young one.  Pet. 
Now by S. George I am too young for you.  Kate. 
Yet you are withered.  Pet. 
'Tis with cares.  Kate. 
I care not.  Pet. 
Nay hear you Kate. Insooth you scape not so.  Kate. 
I chafe you if I tarry. Let me go.  Pet. 
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 art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,  
But slow in speech: yet sweet as spring-time flowers.  
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look a sconce,  
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,  
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk:  
But thou with mildness entertainest thy wooers,  
With gentle conference, soft, and affable.  
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?  
Oh slanderous world: Kate like the hazle twig  
Is strait, and slender, and as brown in hue  
As hazle nuts, and sweeter than the kernels:  
Oh let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.  Kate. 
Go fool, and whom thou keep'st command.  Pet. 
Did ever Diana so become a Grove  
As Kate this chamber with her princely gate:  
O be thou Diana, and let her be Kate,  
And then let Kate be chaste, and Diana sportful.  Kate. 
Where did you study all this goodly speech?  Petr. 
It is extempore, from my mother wit.  Kate. 
A witty mother, witless else her son.  Pet. 
Am I not wise?  Kat. 
Yes, keep you warm.  Pet. 
Marry so I mean sweet Katherine 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, ●ill 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,  Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno. 
For I am he am borne 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 Katherine to my wife.  Bap. 
Now Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?  Pet. 
How but well sir? how but well?  
It were impossible I should speed amiss.  Bap. 
Why how now daughter Katherine, in your dumps?  Kat. 
Call you me daughter? now I promise you  
You have showed a tender fatherly regard,  
To wish me wed to one half Lunatic,  
A madcap ruffian, and a swearing lack,  
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.  Pet. 
Father, 'tis thus, yourself and all the world  
That talked of her, have talked amiss of her:  
If she be cursed, 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.  Kate. 
I'll see thee hanged on sunday first.  Gre. 
Hark Petruchio, she says she'll see thee hanged first.  Tra. 
Is this your speeding? nay then goodnight our part.  Pet. 
Be patiented gentlemen, I choose her for myself,  
If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?  
'Tis bargained twixt us twain being alone,  
That she shall still be cursed in company.  
I tell you 'tis incredible to believe  
How much she love's me: oh 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.  
Oh you are novices, 'tis a world to see  
How tame when men and women are alone.  
A meacock wretch can make the cursedest 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 Katherine shall be fine.  Bap. 
I know not what to say, but give me your hands,  
God send you joy, Petruchio, 'tis a match.  Gre. 
Tra. Amen say we, we will be witnesses.  Pet. 
Father, and wife, and gentlemans 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 a sunday.  Exit Petruchio and Katherine. Gre. 
Was ever match clapped up so suddenly?  Bap. 
Faith Gentlemen now I play a merchant's part,  
And venture madly on a desperate Mart.  Tra. 
'twas a commodity lay fretting by you,  
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.  Bap. 
The gain I seek, is quiet me the match.  Gre. 
No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch:  
But now Baptista, to your younger daughter,  
Now is the day we long have looked for,  
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.  Tra. 
And I am one that love Bianca more  
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.  Gre. 
Youngling thou canst not love so dear as I.  Tra. 
Graybeard thy love doth freeze.  Gre. 
But thine doth fry,  
Skipper stand back, 'tis age that nourisheth.  Tra. 
But youth in Ladies eyes that flourisheth.  Bap. 
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 Biancas love.  
Say signior Gremio, what can you assure her?  Gre. 
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 stuffed my crowns:  
In Cypros chests my arras counterpoints,  
Costly apparel, tents, and Canopies,  
Fine Linen, Turkey cushions boast with pearl,  
Vallens of Venice gold, in needle work:  
Pewter and brass, and all things that belongs  
To house or housekeeping: then at my farm  
I have a hundred milk-cows to the pale,  
Sixscore fat Oxen standing in my stalls,  
And all things answerable to this portion.  
Myself am strooke in years I must confess,  
And if I die to morrow this is hers,  
If whilst I live she will be only mine.  Tra. 
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 Milan,  
Besides, two thousand Ducats by the year  
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointer.  
What, have I pinched you Signior Gremio?  Gre. 
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 Marcellus road:  
What, have I choked you with an Argosy?  Tra. 
Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less  
Than three great Argosies, besides two Galliass  
And twelve tight Galleys, these I will assure her,  
And twice as much what ere thou offerest next.  Gre. 
Nay, I have offered 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.  Tra. 
Why then the maid is mine from all the world  
By your firm promise, Gremio is out-vied.  Bap. 
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?  Tra. 
That's but a cavil: he is old, I young.  Gre. 
And may not young men die as well as old?  Bap. 
Well gentlemen, I am thus resolved,  
On sunday next, you know  
My daughter Katherine is to be married:  
Now on the sunday following, shall Bianca  
Be Bride to you, if you make this assurance:  
If not, to Signior Gremio:  
And so I take my leave, and thank you both.  Exit. Cre. 
Adieu good neighbour: 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. Tra. 
A vengeance on your crafty withered 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, called 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.   

Actus Tertia.  Enter Lucentio, Hortentio, and Bianca. Luc. 
Fidler forbear you grow too forward Sir,  
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment  
Her sister Katherine welcomed you withal.  Hort. 
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.  Luc. 
Preposterous Ass that never read so fare,  
To know the cause why music was ordained:  
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.  Hort. 
Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.  Bianc. 
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 while,  
His Lecture will be done ere you have tuned.  Hort. 
You'll leave his Lecture when I am in tune?  Luc. 
That will be never, tune your instrument.  Bian. 
Where left we last?  Luc. 
here Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hic est sigeria tellus, hic steterat Priamiregia Celsa senis.  Bian. 
Construe them.  Luc. 
Hic Ibat, as I told you before. Simois, I am Lucentio, hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeriatellus, 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 Pantalowne.  Hort. 
Madam, my Instrument's in tune.  Bian. 
Let's hear, oh fie, the triple jars.  Luc. 
Spit in the hole man, and tune again.  Bian. 
Now let me see if I can construe it. Hic ibat simois, I know you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not, hic staterat priami, take heed he hear us not, regia presume not, Celsa senis, despair not.  Hort. 
Madam, 'tis now in tune.  Luc. 
All but the base.  Hort. 
The base is right, 'tis the base knave that jars.  Luc. 
How fiery and forward our Pedant is,  
Now for my life the knave doth court my love,  
Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet:  
In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.  Bian. 
Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides  
Was Atax called so from his grandfather.  Hort. 
I must believe my master, else I promise you,  
I should be arguing still upon that doubt,  
But let it rest, now Litio to you:  
Good master take it not unkindly pray  
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.  Hort. 
You may go walk, and give me leave a while,  
My Lessons make no music in three parts.  Luc. 
Are you so formal sir, well I must wait  
And watch withal, for but I be deceived,  
Our fine Musician groweth amorous.  Hor. 
Madam, before you touch the instrument,  
To learn the order of my fingering,  
I must begin with rudiments of Art,  
To teach you gamoth in a briefer sort,  
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,  
Then hath been taught by any of my trade,  
And there it is in writing fairly drawn.  Bian. 
Why, I am passed my gamouth long ago.  Hor. 
Yet read the gamouth of Hortentio.  Bian. 
Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord:  
Are, to plead Hortensio's passion:  
Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord  
Cfaut, that love's with all affection:  
D solre, one Cliff, two notes have I,  
Elami, show pity or I die.  
Call you this gamouth? tut I like it not,  
Old fashions please me best, I am not so nice  
To charge true rules for old inventions.  Enter a Messenger. Nick. 
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.  Bian. 
Farewell sweet masters both, I must be gone.  Luc. 
Faith Mistress than I have no cause to stay.  Hor. 
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 wand'ring eyes on every stolen:  
Seize thee that List, if once I find thee ranging,  
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.  Exit. Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others, attendants. Bap. 
Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day  
That Katherine 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?  Kate. 
No shame but mine, I must forsooth be forced  
To give my hand opposed against my heart  
Unto a madbrain rudes by, full of spleen,  
Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure:  
I told you I, he was a frantic fool,  
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour,  
And to be noted for a merry man;  
he'll woo a thousand, point the day of marriage,  
Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banes,  
Yet never means to wed where he hath wooed:  
Now must the world point at poor Katherine,  
And say, lo, there is man Petruchio's wife  
If it would please him come and marry her.  Tra. 
Patience good Katherine and Baptista too,  
Upon my life Petruchio means but well,  
What ever fortune stays him from his word,  
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise,  
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.  Kate. 
Would Katherine had never seen him though.  Exit weeping. Bap. 
Go girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep,  
For such an injury would vex a very saint,  
Much more a shrew of impatient humour.  Enter Biondello. Bion. 
Master, master, news, and such news as you never heard of,  Bap. 
Is it new and old too? how may that be?  Bion. 
Why, is it not news to heard of Petruchio's coming?  Bap. 
Is he come?  Bion. 
Why no sir.  Bap. 
What then?  Bion. 
He is coming.  Bap. 
When will he be here?  Bion. 
When he stands where I am, and sees you there.  Tra. 
But say, what to thine old news?  Bion. 
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 Armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapelesse: with two broken points: his horse hiped 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 Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full of Windegalls, sped with Spavins, rayed with the Yellows, past cure of the Five, stark spoiled with the Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Weighed in the back, and shoulder-shotten, near legged before, and with a halfe-chekt Bit, & a headstall of sheep's leather, which being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girth six times 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.  Bap. 
Who comes with him?  Bion. 
Oh 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 lift; an old hat, & the humour of forty fancies pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, & not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's Lackey.  Tra. 
'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion,  
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparelled.  Bap. 
I am glad he's come, howe'er he comes.  Bion. 
Why sir, he comes not.  Bap. 
Didst thou not say he comes?  Bion. 
Who, that Petruchio came?  Bap. 
I, that Petruchio came.  Bion. 
No sir, I say his horse comes with him on his back.  Bap. 
Why that's all one.  Bion. 
Nay by S. jamy, I hold you a penny, a horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.  Enter Petruchio and Grumio. Pet. 
Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?  Bap. 
You are welcome sir.  Petr. 
And yet I come not well.  Bap. 
And yet you halt not.  Tra. 
Not so well apparelled as I wish you were.  Petr. 
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?  Bap. 
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 eyesore to our solemn festival.  Tra. 
And tell us what occasion of import  
Hath all so long detained you from your wife,  
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?  Petr. 
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 with all▪  
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her,  
The morning wears, 'tis time we were at Church.  Tra. 
See not your Bride in these unreverent robes,  
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.  Pet. 
Not I, believe me, thus I'll visit her.  Bap. 
But thus I trust you will not marry her.  Pet. 
Good sooth even thus: therefore ha' done with words,  
To me she's married, not unto my clothes:  
Can 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.  Exit. Tra. 
He hath some meaning in his mad attire,  
We will persuade him be it possible,  
To put on better ere he go to Church.  Bap. 
I'll after him, and see the event of this.  Exit. Tra. 
But sir, Love concerneth us to add  
Her father's liking, which to bring to pass  
As before imparted to your worship,  
I am to get a man what ere 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 Milan  
Of greater sums than I have promised,  
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,  
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.  Luc. 
Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster  
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly:  
'Twere good methinks to steal our marriage,  
Which once performed, let all the world say no,  
I'll keep mine own despite of all the world.  Tra. 
That by degrees we mean to look into,  
And watch our vantage in this business,  
we'll overreach the greybeard Gremio,  
The narrow prying father Minola,  
The acquaint Musician, amorous Litio,  
All for my Master's sake Lucentio.  Enter Gremio. 
Signior Gremio, came you from the Church?  Gre. 
As willingly as ere I came from school.  Tra. 
And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?  Gre. 
A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed,  
A grumlling groom, and that the girl shall find.  Tra. 
Curster than she, why 'tis impossible.  Gre. 
Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.  Tra. 
Why she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.  Gre. 
Tut, she's a Lamb, a Dove, a fool to him:  
I'll tell you sir Lucentio; when the Priest  
Should ask if Katherine should be his wife,  
I, by goggs woones quoth he, and swore so loud,  
That all amazed the Priest let fall the book,  
And as he stooped again to take it up,  
This mad-brained bridegroom took him such a cuff,  
That down sell Priest and book, and book and Priest,  
Now take them up quoth he, if any list.  Tra. 
What said the wench when he rose again?  Gre. 
Trembled and shaken: for why, he stamped and swore, as if the Vicar meant to cousin 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, quaffed 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 seemed to ask him sops as he was drinking: This done, he took the Bride about the neck, and kissed 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 plays. Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista. Petr. 
Gentlemen & 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.  Bap. 
Is't possible you will away to night?  Pet. 
I must away to day before night come,  
Make it no wonder: if you knew my business,  
You would entreat me rather go then stay:  
And honest company, I thank you all,  
That have beheld me give away myself  
To this most patiented, sweet, and virtuous wife,  
Dine with my father, drink a health to me,  
For I must hence, and farewell to you all.  Tra. 
Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.  Pet. 
It may not be.  Gra. 
Let me entreat you.  Pet. 
It cannot be.  Kat. 
Let me entreat you.  Pet. 
I am content.  Kat. 
Are you content to stay?  Pet. 
I am content you shall entreat me stay,  
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.  Kat. 
Now if you love me stay.  Pet. 
Grumio, my horse.  Gru. 
I sir, they be ready, the Oats have eaten the horses.  Kate. 
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.  Pet. 
O Kate content thee, prithee be not angry.  Kat. 
I will be angry, what hast thou to do?  
Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure.  Gre. 
I marry sir, now it gins to work.  Kat. 
Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner,  
I see a woman may be made a fool  
If she had not a spirit to resist.  Pet. 
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 householdstuff, my field, my barn,  
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing,  
And here she stands, touch her who ever dare,  
I'll bring mine action on the proudest he  
That stops my way in Milan: Grumio  
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thiefs,  
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. P. Ka. Bap. 
Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.  Gre. 
Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.  Tra. 
Of all mad matches never was the like.  Luc. 
Mistress, what is your opinion of your sister?  Bian. 
That being mad herself, she's madly mated.  Gre. 
I warrant him Petruchio is Kated.  Bap. 
Neighbours and friends, though Bride & 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.  Tra. 
Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?  Bap. 
She shall Lucentio: come gentlemen let's go.  Enter Grumio. Exeunt. Gru.: 
Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad Masters, & 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, & 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, hoa Curtis.  Enter Curtis. Curt. 
Who is that calls so coldly?  Gru. 
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.  Cur. 
Is my master and his wife coming Grumio?  Gru. 
Oh I Curtis I, and therefore fire, fire, cast on no water.  Cur. 
Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported.  Gru. 
She was good Curtis before this frost: but thou knowst winter tames man, woman, and beast: for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mistress, and myself fellow Curtis.  Gru. 
Away you three inch fool, I am no beast.  Gru. 
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.  Cur. 
I prithee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?  Gru. 
A cold world Curtis in every office but thine, & therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty, for my Master and mistress are almost frozen to death.  Cur. 
There's fire ready, and therefore good Grumio the news.  Gru. 
Why jacke boy, ho boy, and as much news as wilt thou.  Cur. 
Come, you are so full of coney-catching.  Gru. 
Why therefore fire, for I have caught extreme cold. Where's the Cook, is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept, the servingmen in their new fustian, the white stockings, and every officer his wedding garment on? Be the jacks fair within, the Gils fai● without, the Carpets laid, and every thing in order?  Cur. 
All ready: and therefore I pray thee news.  Gru. 
First know my horse is tired, my master & mistress fall'n out.  Cur. 
How?  Gru. 
Out of their saddles into the dirt, and thereby hangs a tale.  Cur. 
Let's have't good Grumio.  Gru. 
Lend thine ear.  Cur. 
here.  Gru. 
There.  Cur. 
This 'tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.  Gru. 
And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this Cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech listening: now I begin, Inprimis we came down a fowl hill, my Master riding behind my Mistress.  Cur. 
Both of one horse?  Gru. 
What's that to thee?  Cur. 
Why a horse.  Gru. 
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.  Cur. 
By this reckoning he is more shrew than she.  Gru. 
I, 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, Sugersop and the rest: let their heads be slickely 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?  Cur. 
They are.  Gru. 
Call them forth.  Cur. 
Do you hear ho? you must meet my master to countenance my mistress.  Gru. 
Why she hath a face of her own.  Cur. 
Who knows not that?  Gru. 
Thou it seems, that calls for company to countenance her.  Cur. 
I call them forth to credit her.  Enter four or five serving men. Gru. 
Why she comes to borrow nothing of them.  Nat. 
Welcome home Grumio.  Phil. 
How now Grumio.  Ios. 
What Grumio.  Nick. 
Fellow Grumio.  Nat. 
How now old lad.  Gru. 
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?  Nat. 
All things is ready, how near is our master?  Gre. 
E'en at hand, alighted by this: and therefore be not— Cock's passion, silence, I hear my master.  Enter Petruchio and Kate. Pet. 
Where be these knaves? What no man at door  
To hold my stirrup, nor to take my horse?  
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip.  All ser. 
here, here sir, here sir.  Pet. 
here sir, here sir, here sir, here sir.  
You loggerheaded and unpolished grooms:  
What? no attendance? no regard? no duty?  
Where is the foolish knave I sent before?  Gru. 
here sir, as foolish as I was before.  Pet. 
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 Gabrels pumps were all unpinkt i' th' heel:  
There was no Link to colour Peter's hat,  
And Welter'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.  Pet. 
Go rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.  Ex. Ser. 
Where is the life that late I led?  
Where are those? Sat down Kate,  
And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.  Enter servants with supper. 
Why when I say? Nay good sweet Kate be merry.  
Off with my boots, you rogues: you villains, when?  
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 of the other.  
Be merry Kate: Some water here: what hoa.  Enter one with water. 
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?  
Come Kate and wash, & welcome hearty:  
you whoreson villain, will you let it fall?  Kate. 
Patience I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling.  Pet. 
A whoreson beetleheaded flap-eared knave:  
Come Kate sit down, I know you have a stomach,  
Will you give thankes, sweet Kate, or else shall I?  
What's this, Mutton?  1. Ser. 
I.  Pet. 
Who brought it?  Peter. 
I.  Pet. 
'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?  
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:  
You heedless iolt-heads, and unmannered slaves.  
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you strait.  Kate. 
I pray you husband be not so disquiet,  
The meat was well, if you were so contented.  Pet. 
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,  
Then feed it with such overroasted flesh:  
Be patiented, to morrowed shallbe mended,  
And for this night we'll fast for company.  
Come I will bring thee to thy Bridal chamber.  Exeunt. Enter Servants severally. Nath. 
Peter didst ever see the like.  Peter. 
He kills her in her own humour.  Grumio. 
Where is he?  Enter Curtis a Servant. Cur. 
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.  Enter Petruchio. Pet. 
Thus have I politickely 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 than she never looks upon her lure.  
Another way I have to man my Haggard,  
To make her come, and know her Keepers call:  
That is, to watch her, as we watch these Kites,  
That bait, and bear, 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:  
I, and amid this hurly I intent,  
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 Enter Tranio and Hortensio▪ Tra. 
Is't possible friend Lisio, that mistress Bianca  
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio,  
I tell you sir, she bears me fair in hand.  Luc. 
Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,  
Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching.  Enter Bianca. Hor. 
Now Mistress, profit you in what you read?  Bian▪ 
What Master read you first, resolve me that?  Hor. 
I read, that I profess the Art to love.  Bian 
And may you prove sir Master of your Art.  Luc. 
While you sweet dear ptove Mistress of my heart.  Hor. 
Quick proceeders marry, now tell me I pray, you that durst swear that your mistress Bianca Loved me in the World so well as Lucentio.  Tra. 
Oh despightful Love, unconstant womankind,  
I tell thee Lisio this is wonderful.  Hor. 
Mistake no more, I am not Lisio,  
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 called Hortensio.  Tra. 
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.  Hor. 
See how they kiss and court: Signior Lucentio,  
here is my hand, and here I firmly vow  
Never to woe her more, but do forswear her  
As one unworthy all the former favours  
That I have fond flattered them withal.  Tra. 
And here I take the like unfeigned oath,  
Never to marry with her, though she would entreat,  
Fie on her, see how beastly she doth court him.  Hor. 
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.  Tra. 
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.  Bian. 
Tranio you jest, but have you both forsworn me?  Tra. 
Mistress we have.  Luc. 
Then we are rid of Lisio.  Tra. 
I' faith he'll have a lusty Widow now,  
That shallbe wooed, and wedded in a day.  Bian. 
God give him joy.  Tra. 
I, and he'll tame her.  Bianca. 
He says so Tranio.  Tra. 
Faith he is gone unto the taming school.  Bian. 
The taming school: what is there such a place?  Tra. 
I mistress, and Petruchio is the master,  
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,  
To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue.  Enter Biondello. Bion. 
Oh Master, master I have watched so long,  
That I am dogge-wearie, but at last I spied  
An ancient Angel coming down the hill,  
Will serve the turn.  Tra. 
What is he Biondello?  Bio. 
Master, a Mercatante, or a pedant,  
I know not what, but formal in apparel,  
In gate and countenance surely like a Father.  Luc. 
And what of him Tranio?  Tra. 
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.  Par. 
Take me your love, and then let me alone.  Enter a Pedant. Ped. 
God save you sir.  Tra. 
And you sir, you are welcome,  
Travail you fare on, or are you at the farthest?  Ped. 
Sir at the farthest for a week or two,  
But then up farther, and as fare as Rome,  
And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.  Tra. 
What Countryman I pray?  Ped. 
Of Mantua.  Tra. 
Of Mantua Sir, marry God forbidden,  
And come to Milan careless of your life.  Ped. 
My life sir? how I pray? for that goes hard.  Tra. 
'Tis death for any one in Mantua  
To come to Milan, know you not the cause?  
Your ships are stayed at Venice, and the Duke  
For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,  
Hath published and proclaimed it openly:  
'Tis marvel, but that you are but newly come,  
you might have heard it else proclaimed about.  Ped. 
Alas sir, it is worse for me then so,  
For I have bills for money by exchange  
From Florence, and must here deliver them.  Tra. 
Well sir, to do you courtesy,  
This will I do, and this I will advice you.  
First tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?  Ped. 
I sir, in Pisa have I often been,  
Pisa renowned for grave Citizens.  Tra. 
Among them know you one Vincentio?  Ped. 
I know him not, but I have heard of him:  
A Merchant of incomparable wealth.  Tra. 
He is my father sir, and sooth to say,  
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.  Bion. 
As much as an apple doth an oyster, & all one.  Tra. 
To save your life in this extremity,  
This favour will I do you for his sake,  
And think it not the worst of all 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 curtsy sir, accept of it.  Ped. 
Oh sir I do, and will repute you ever  
The patron of my life and liberty.  Tra. 
Then go with me, to make the matter good,  
This by the way I let you understand,  
My father is here looked for every day,  
To pass assurance of a dowry 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.  

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Katherine and Grumio. Gru. 
No, no forsooth I dare not for my life.  Ka. 
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 alms,  
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 oaths 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 soode.  Gru. 
What say you to a Neat's foot?  Kate. 
'Tis passing good, I prithee let me have it.  Gru. 
I fear it is too choleric a meat.  
How say you to a fat Tripe finely broiled?  Kate. 
I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me.  Gru. 
I cannot tell, I fear 'tis choleric.  
What say you to a piece of Beef and Mustard?  Kate. 
A dish that I do love to feed upon.  Gru. 
I, but the Mustard is too hot a little.  Kate. 
Why then the Beef, and let the Mustard rest.  Gru. 
Nay then I will not, you shall have the Mustard  
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.  Kate. 
Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt.  Gru. 
Why then the Mustard without the beef.  Kate. 
Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,  Beats him. 
That feedest 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. Petr. 
How fares my Kate, what sweeting all a-mort?  Hor. 
Mistress, what cheer?  Kate. 
Faith as cold as can be.  Pet. 
Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.  
here Love, thou seest how diligent I am,  
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee.  
I am sure sweet Kate, this kindness merits thankes.  
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not:  
And all my pains is sorted to no proof.  
here take away this dish.  Kate. 
I pray you let it stand.  Pet. 
The poorest service is repaid with thankes,  
And so shall mine before you touch the meat.  Kate. 
I thank you sir.  Hor. 
Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame:  
Come Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.  Petr. 
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 Farthingales, and things:  
With Scarves, and Fans, & double change of brau'ry,  
With Amber Bracelets, Beads, and all this knau'ry.  
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.  Enter Haberdasher. 
Lay forth the gown. What news with you sir?  Fel. 
here is the cap your Worship did bespeak.  Pet. 
Why this was moulded on a porringer,  
A Velvet dish: Fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy,  
Why 'tis a cockle or a walnutshell,  
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap:  
Away with it, come let me have a bigger.  Kate. 
I'll have no bigger, this doth fit the time,  
And Gentlewomen wear such caps as these.  Pet. 
When you are gentle, you shall have one too,  
And not till then.  Hor. 
That will not be in haste.  Kate. 
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.  Pet. 
Why thou sayest true, it is paltry cap,  
A custard coffin, a bauble, a silken pie,  
I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not.  Kate. 
Love me, or love me not, I like the cap,  
And it I will have, or I will have none.  Pet. 
Thy gown, why I: come Tailor let us see't.  
Oh mercy God, what masking stuff is here?  
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like 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 Censor in a barber's shop:  
Why what a devil's name Tailor callest thou this?  Hor. 
I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown.  Tai. 
You bid me make it orderly and well,  
According to the fashion, and the time.  Pet. 
Marry and did: but if you be remembered,  
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.  Kate. 
I never saw a better fashioned gown,  
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:  
Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.  Pet. 
Why true, he means to make a puppet of thee.  Tail. 
She says your Worship means to make a puppet of her.  Pet 
Oh 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 bemete thee with thy yard,  
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest:  
I tell thee I, that thou hast marred her gown.  Tail. 
Your worship is deceived, the gown is made  
Just as my master had direction:  
Grumio gave order how it should be done.  Gru. 
I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff.  Tail. 
But how did you desire it should be made?  Gru. 
Marry sir with needle and thread.  Tail. 
But did you not request to have it cut?  Gru. 
Thou hast faced many things.  Tail. 
I have.  Gru. 
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.  Tail. 
Why here is the note of the fashion to testify.  Pet. 
Read it.  Gru. 
The note lies in's throat if he say I said so.  Tail. 
Inprimis, a lose bodied gown.  Gru. 
Master, if ever I said loosebodied gown, sow me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown.  Pet. 
Proceed.  Tai. 
With a small compassed cape.  Gru. 
I confess the cape.  Tai. 
With a trunk sleeve.  Gru. 
I confess two sleeves.  Tai. 
The sleeves curiously cut.  Pet. 
I there's the villainy.  Gru. 
Error i' th' bill sir, error i' th' bill? I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sowed up again, and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.  Tail. 
This is true that I say, and I had thee in place where thou shouldst know it.  Gru. 
I am for thee strait: take thou the bill, give me thy meat-yard, and spare not me.  Hor. 
Godamercy Grumio, than he shall have no odds.  Pet. 
Well sir in brief the gown is not for me.  Gru. 
You are i' th' right sir, 'tis for my mistress.  Pet. 
Go take it up unto thy master's use.  Gru. 
Villain, not for thy life: Take up my Mistress gown for thy master's use.  Pet. 
Why sir, what's your conceit in that?  Gru. 
Oh sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:  
Take up my Mistress gown to his master's use.  
Oh fie, fie, fie.  Pet. 
Hortensio, say thou wilt see the Tailor paid:  
Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more.  Hor. 
Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to morrow,  
Take no unkindness of his hasty words:  
Away I say, commend me to thy master.  Exit Tail. Pet. 
Well, come my Kate, we will unto your fathers,  
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 feathers are more beautiful.  
Or is the Adder better than the Eel▪  
Because his painted skin contents the eye.  
Oh no good Kate: neither art thou the worse  
For this poor furniture, and mean array.  
If thou accountedest 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 strait 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 a clock,  
And well we may come there by dinner time.  Kate. 
I dare assure you sir, 'tis almost two,  
And 'twill be supper time ere you come there.  Pet. 
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 leted alone,  
I will not go to day, and ere I do,  
It shall be what a clock I say it is.  Hor. 
Why so this gallant will command the sun.  Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vincentio. Tra. 
Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call.  Ped. 
I what else, and but I be deceived,  
Signior Baptista may remember me  
Near twenty years a go in Genoa.  Tra. 
Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,  
'tis well, and hold your own in any case  
With such austerity as longeth to a father.  Enter Biondello. Ped. 
I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy,  
'tTwere good he were schooled.  Tra. 
Fear you not him: sirrah Biondello,  
Now do your duty throughly I advice you:  
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.  Bion. 
Tut, fear not me.  Tra. 
But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista.  Bion. 
I told him that your father was at Venice,  
And that you looked for him this day in Milan.  Tra. 
The art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drink,  
Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir.  Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted and bore headed. Tra. 
Signior Baptista you are happily met:  
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,  
I pray you stand good father to me now,  
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.  Ped. 
Soft son: sir by your leave, having come to Milan  
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 matched, 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 bestowed:  
For curious I cannot be with you  
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.  Bap. 
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.  Tra. 
I thank you sir, where then do you know best  
We be affied and such assurance ta'en,  
As shall with either parts agreement stand.  Bap. 
Not in my house Lucentio, for you know  
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants,  
Besides old Gremio is harkening still,  
And happily we might be interrupted.  Tra. 
Then at my lodging, and 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.  Bap. 
It likes me well:  
Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her ready strait:  
And if you will tell what hath happened,  
Lucentios' Father is arrived in Milan,  
And how she's like to be Lucentios' wife.  Biond. 
I pray the gods she may withal my heart.  Exit. Tran. 
Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.  Enter Peter. 
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way,  
Welcome, one mess is like to be your cheer,  
Come sir, we will better it in Pisa.  Bap. 
I follow you.  Exeunt. Enter Lucentio and Biondello. Bion. 
Cambio.  Luc. 
What sayest thou Biondello.  Biond. 
You saw my Master wink and laugh upon you?  Luc. 
Biondello, what of that?  Biond. 
Faith nothing: but has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.  Luc. 
I pray thee moralise them.  Biond. 
Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with the deceiving Father of a deceitful son.  Luc. 
And what of him?  Biond. 
His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.  Luc. 
And then.  Bio. 
The old Priest at Saint Luke's Church is at your command at all hours.  Luc. 
And what of all this.  Bion. 
I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum previlegio ad Impremendum solemn, to th' Church take the Priest, Clarke, 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.  Luc. 
Hearest thou Biondello.  Biond. 
I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the Garden for Parseley 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. Luc. 
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. Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio. Petr. 
Come on a God's name, once more toward our fathers:  
Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moon.  Kate. 
The Moon, the Sun: it is not Moonlight now.  Pet. 
I say it is the Moon that shines so bright.  Kate. 
I know it is the Sun that shines so bright.  Pet. 
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 crossed and crossed, nothing but crossed.  Hort. 
Say as he says, or we shall never go.  Kate. 
Forward I pray, since we have come so fare,  
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please:  
And if you please to call it a rush Candle,  
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.  Petr. 
I say it is the Moon.  Kate. 
I know it is the Moon.  Petr. 
Nay then you lie: it is the blessed Sun.  Kate. 
Then God be blessed, it in 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 Katherine.  Hort. 
Petruchio, go thy ways, the field is won.  Petr. 
Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl should run,  
And not unluckily against the Bias:  
But soft, Company is coming here▪  Enter 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.  Hort. 
A will make the man mad to make the woman of him.  Kate. 
Young budding Virgin, fair, and fresh, & sweet,  
Whether away, or whether is thy abode?  
Happy the Parents of so fair a child;  
Happier the man whom favourable stars  
A lots thee for his lovely bedfellow.  Petr. 
Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,  
This is a man old, wrinkled, faded, withered,  
And not a Maiden, as thou sayest he is.  Kate. 
Pardon old father my mistaking eyes,  
That have been so bedazled with the sun,  
That every thing I look on seemeth green:  
Now I perceive thou art a reverend Father:  
Pardon I pray thee for my mad mistaking.  Petr. 
Do good old grandsire, & withal make known  
Which way thou travelest, if along with us,  
We shall be joyful of thy company.  Vin. 
Fair Sir, and you my merry Mistress,  
That with your strange encounter much amazed me:  
My name is called Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,  
And bond I am to Milan, there to visit  
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.  Petr. 
What is his name?  Vinc. 
Lucentio gentle sir.  Petr. 
Happily 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 not grieved, she is of good esteem,  
Her dowry 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.  Vinc. 
But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,  
Like pleasant travailors to break a left  
Upon the company you overtake?  Hort. 
I do assure thee father so it is.  Petr. 
Come go along and see the truth hereof,  
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.  Exeunt. Hor. 
Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;  
Have to my Widow, and if she froward,  
Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be untoward.  Exit. Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianea, Gremio is out before. Biond. 
Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready.  Luc. 
I fly Biondello; but they may chance to need thee at home, therefore leave us.  Exit. Biond. 
Nay faith, I'll see the Church a your back, and then come back to my mistress as soon as I can.  Gre. 
I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.  Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio with Attendants. Petr. 
Sir here's the door, this is Lucentios' house,  
My Fathers bears more toward the Marketplace,  
Thither must I, and here I leave you sir.  Vin. 
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.  Knock. Grem. 
They're busy within, you were best knock louder.  Pedant looks out of the window. Ped 
What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate?  Vin. 
Is Signior Lucentio within sir?  Ped. 
He's within sir, but not to be spoken withal.  Vinc. 
What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two to make merry withal.  Ped. 
Keep your hundred pounds to yourself, he shall need none so long as I live.  Petr. 
Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Milan: 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.  Ped. 
Thou liest his Father is come from Milan, and here looking out at the window.  Vin. 
Art thou his father?  Ped. 
I sir, so his mother says, if I may believe her.  Petr. 
Why how now gentleman: why this is flat knavery to take upon you another man's name.  Peda. 
Lay hands on the villain, I believe a means to cozen some body in this City under my countenance.  Enter Biondello. Bio. 
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 borough to nothing.  Vin. 
Come hither crackhempe.  Bion. 
I hope I may choose Sir.  Vin. 
Come hither you rogue, what have you forgot me?  Biond. 
Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, for I never saw you before in all my life.  Vinc. 
What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see thy Mistress father, Vincentio?  Bion. 
What my old worshipful old master? yes marry sir see where he looks out of the window.  Vin. 
Is't so indeed.  He beats Biondello. Bion. 
Help, help, help, here's a mad man will murder me.  Pedan. 
Help, son, help signior Baptista.  Petr. 
Pray the Kate let's stand aside and see the end of this controversy.  Enter Pedant with servants, Baptista, Tranio. Tra. 
Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?  Vinc. 
What am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immortal Gods: oh fine villain, a silken doubtlet, a velvet hose, a scarlet cloak, and a copataine hat: oh I am undone, I am undone: while I play the good husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at the university.  Tra. 
How now, what's the matter?  Bapt. 
What is the man lunatic?  Tra. 
Sir, you seem a sober ancient Gentleman by your habit: but your words show you a mad man: why sir, what cernes it you, if I wear Pearl and gold: I thank my good Father, I am able to maintain it.  Vin. 
Thy father: oh villain, he is a Sailemaker in Bergamo.  Bap. 
You mistake sir, you mistake sir, pray what do you think is his name?  Vin. 
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 Tronio.  Ped. 
Away, away mad ass, his name is Lucentio, and he is mine only son and heir to the Lands of me signior Vincentio.  Ven. 
Lucentio: oh he hath murdered his Master; lay hold on him I charge you in the Duke's name: oh my son, my son: tell me thou villain, where is my son Lucentio?  Tra. 
Call forth an officer: Carry this mad knave to the jail: father Baptista, I charge you see that he be forth coming.  Vinc. 
Carry me to the jail?  Gre. 
Stay officer, he shall not go to prison.  Bap. 
Talk not signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison.  Gre. 
Take heed signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this is the right Vincentio.  Ped. 
Swear if thou darest.  Gre. 
Nay, I dare not swear it.  Tran. 
Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.  Gre. 
Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio.  Bap. 
Away with the dotard, to the jail with him.  Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianeu. Vin. 
Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: oh monstrous villain.  Bion. 
Oh we are spoiled, and yonder he is, deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone.  Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be. Luc. 
Pardon sweet father.  Kneel. Vin. 
Life's my sweet son?  Bian. 
Pardon dear father.  Bap. 
How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?  Luc: 
Here's Lucentio, right son to the right Vincentio,  
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,  
While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eine.  Gre. 
Here's packing with a witness to deceive us all.  Vin. 
Where is that damned villain Tranio,  
That faced and braved me in this matter so?  Bap. 
Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?  Bian. 
Cambio is changed into Lucentio.  Luc. 
Love's wrought these miracles. Biancas 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.  Vin. 
I'll slit the villain's nose that would have sent me to the jail.  Bap. 
But do you hear sir, have you married my daughter without ask my good will?  Vin. 
Fear not Baptista, we will content you, go to: but I will in to be revenged for this villainy.  Exit. Bap. 
And I to sound the depth of this knavery.  Exit. Luc. 
Look not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.  Exeunt. Gre. 
My cake is doug●h but I'll in among the rest,  
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.  Kate. 
Husband let's follow, to see the end of this ado.  Petr. 
First kiss me Kate, and we will.  Kate. 
What in the midst of the street?  Petr. 
What art thou ashamed of me?  Kate. 
more sir, God forbidden, but ashamed to kiss.  Petr. 
Why then let's home again: Come Sirrah let's away.  Kate. 
Nay, I will give thee a kiss, now pray thee Love stay.  Petr. 
Is not this well? come my sweet Kate.  
Better once then never, for never to late.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and Bianca. Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widow: The Servingmen with Tranio bringing in a Banquet. Luc. 
At last, though long, our jarring notes agree,  
And time it is when raging war is come,  
To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown:  
My fair Bianca bid my father welcome,  
While I with selfsame kindness welcome thine:  
Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina,  
And thou Hortentio with thy loving Widow:  
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,  
My Banquet is to close our stomaches up  
After our great good cheer: pray you sit down,  
For now we sit to chat as well as eat.  Petr. 
Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat.  Bap. 
Milan affords this kindness, son Petruchio.  Petr. 
Milan affords nothing but what is kind.  Hor. 
For both our sakes I would that word were true.  Pet. 
Now for my life Hortentio fears his Widow.  Wid. 
Then never trust me if I be afeard.  Petr. 
You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:  
I mean Hortentio is afeard of you.  Wid. 
He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.  Petr. 
Roundly replied.  Kat. 
Mistress, how mean you that?  Wid. 
Thus I conceive by him.  Petr. 
Conceives by me, how likes Hortentio that?  Hor. 
My Widow says, thus she conceives her tale.  Petr. 
Very well mended: kiss him for that good Widow.  Kat. 
He that is giddy thinks the world turns round,  
I pray you tell me what you meant by that.  Wid. 
Your husband being troubled with a shrew,  
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe:  
And now you know my meaning.  Kate. 
A very mean meaning.  Wid. 
Right, I mean you.  Kat. 
And I am mean indeed, respecting you.  Petr. 
To her Kate.  Hor. 
To her Widow.  Petr. 
A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.  Hor. 
That's my office  Petr. 
Spoke like an Officer: ha' to the lad.  Drinks to Hortentio. Bap. 
How likes Cremio these quick witted folks?  Gre. 
Believe me sir, they But together well.  Bian. 
Head, and but an hasty witted body,  
Would say your Head and But were head and horn.  Vin. 
I Mistress Bride, hath that awakened you?  Bian. 
I, but not frighted me, therefore I'll sleep again.  Petr. 
Nay that you shall not since you have begun:  
Have at you for a better jest or too.  Bian. 
Am I your Bird, I mean to shift my bush,  
And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.  
You are welcome all.  Exit Bianca. Petr. 
She hath prevented me, here signior Tranio,  
This bird you aimed at, though you hit her not,  
Therefore a health to all that shot and missed.  Tri. 
Oh sir, Lucentio slipped me like his Greyhound,  
Which runs himself, and catches for his Master.  Petr. 
A good swift simile, but something currish.  Tra. 
'Tis well sir that you hunted for yourself:  
'Tis thought your Deer does hold you at a bay.  Bap. 
Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.  Luc. 
I thank thee for that gird good Tranio.  Hor. 
Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?  Petr. 
A has a little galled me I confess:  
And as the jest did glance away from me,  
'Tis ten to one it maimed you too out right.  Bap. 
Now in good sadness son Petruchio,  
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.  Petr. 
Well, I say no: and therefore sir 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.  Hort. 
Content, what's the wager?  Luc. 
Twenty crowns.  Petr. 
Twenty crowns,  
I'll venture so much of my Hawk or Hound,  
But twenty times so much upon my Wife.  Luc. 
A hundred then.  Hor. 
Content.  Petr. 
A match, 'tis done.  Hor. 
Who shall begin?  Luc. 
That will I.  
Go Biondello, bid your Mistress come to me.  Bio. 
Igoe.  Exit. Bap. 
Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.  Luc. 
I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all myself.  Enter Biondello. 
How now, what news?  Bio. 
Sir, my Mistress sends you word  
That she is busy, and she cannot come.  Petr. 
How? she's busy, and she cannot come: is that an answer?  Gre. 
I, and a kind one too:  
Pray God sir your wife send you not a worse.  Petr. 
I hope better.  Hor. 
Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife to come to me forthwith.  Exit. Bion. Pet. 
Oh ho, entreat her, nay then she must needs come.  Hor. 
I am afraid sir, do what you can  Enter Biondello. 
Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?  Bion. 
She says you have some goodly jest in hand,  
She will not come: she bids you come to her.  Petr. 
Worse and worse, she will not come:  
Oh vild, intolerable, not to be endured:  
Sirrah Grumio, go to your Mistress.  
Say I command her come to me.  Exit. Hor. 
I know her answer.  Pet. 
What?  Hor. 
She will not.  Petr. 
The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.  Enter Katerina. Bap. 
Now by my halidom here comes Katerina.  Kat. 
What is your will sir, that you send for me?  Petr. 
Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?  Kate. 
They sit conferring by the Parlour fire.  Petr. 
Go fetch them hither, if they deny to come,  
Swinge me them sound forth unto their husbands.  
Away I say, and bring them hither strait.  Luc. 
Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.  Hor. 
And so it is: I wonder what it bodes.  Petr. 
Marry peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,  
An awful rule, and right supremacy:  
And to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.  Bap. 
Now fair befall 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.  Petr. 
Nay, I will win my wager better yet,  
And show more sign of her obedience,  
Her new built virtue and obedience.  Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widow. 
See where she comes, and brings your froward Wives  
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion:  
Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,  
Off with that babble, throw it underfoot.  Wid. 
Lord let me never have a cause to sigh,  
Till I be brought to such a silly pass.  Bian. 
Fie what a foolish duty call you this?  Luc. 
I would your duty were as foolish too:  
The wisdom of your duty fair Bianca,  
Hath cost me five hundred crowns since supper time.  Bian. 
The more fool you for laying on my duty.  Pet. 
Katherine I charge thee tell these headstrong women, what duty they do owe their Lords and husbands.  Wid. 
Come, come, your mocking: we will have no telling.  Pet. 
Come on I say, and first begin with her.  Wid. 
She shall not.  Pet. 
I say she shall, and first begin with her.  Kate. 
Fie, fie, unknit that thretaning 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, hereft 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 happily 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 vale your stomaches, 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.  Pet. 
Why there's a wench: Come on, and kiss me Kate.  Luc. 
Well go thy ways old Lad for thou shalt have't.  Vin. 
'tis a good hearing, when children are toward.  Luc. 
But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,  Pet. 
Come Kate, weee'le to bed,  
We three are married, but you two are sped.  
'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white,  
And being a winner, God give you good night.  Exit Petruchio Horten. 
Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a cursed Shrew.  Luc. 
'tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.   
FINIS.   

all's Well, that Ends Well.  

Actus primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter young Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena, Lord Lafew, all in black. Mother. 
IN delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.  Ros. 
And I in going Madam, weep over my father's death anew; but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in Ward, evermore in subjection.  Laf. 
You shall find of the King a husband Madame, 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.  Mo. 
What hope is there of his Majesty's amendment?  Laf. 
He hath abandoned his Physician's Madam, under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process, but only the losing of hope by time.  Mo. 
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.  Laf. 
How called you the man you speak of Madam?  Mo. 
He was famous sir in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.  Laf. 
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.  Ros. 
What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes of?  Laf. 
A Fistula my Lord.  Ros 
I heard not of it before.  Laf. 
I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?  Mo. 
His sole child my Lord, and bequeathed to my over looking. 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 atcheeves her goodness.  Lafeu. 
Your commendations Madam get from her tears.  Mo. 
'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 too, no more lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then to have—  Hell. 
I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.  Laf. 
Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.  Mo. 
If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.  Ros. 
Madam I desire your holy wishes.  Laf. 
How understand we that?  Mo. 
Be thou blessed Bertrame, 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 then use: and keep thy friend  
Under thy own life's key. Be checked for silence,  
But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will,  
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,  
Fall on thy head. Farewell my Lord,  
'Tis an unseasoned Courtier, good my Lord  
Advise him.  Laf. 
He cannot want the best  
That shall attend his love.  Mo. 
Heaven bless him: Farewell Bertram.  Ro. 
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.  Laf. 
Farewell pretty Lady, you must hold the credit of your father.  Hell. 
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 colaterall light,  
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;  
Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself:  
The hind that would be mated by the Lion  
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a 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 Relics. Who comes here?  Enter Parrolles. 
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 Virtues steely bones  
Looks bleak i' th' cold wind: withal, full oft we see  
Cold wisdom weighting on superfluous folly.  Par. 
Save you fair Queen.  Hel. 
And you Monarch.  Par. 
No.  Hel. 
And no.  Par. 
Are you meditating on virginity?  Hel. 
If you have some stain of soldier in you: Let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity, how may we barracado it against him?  Par. 
Keep him out.  Hel. 
But he assails, and our virginity though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.  Par. 
There is none: Man setting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.  Hel. 
Bless our poor Virginity from underminers and blowers up. Is there no Military policy how Virgins might blow up men?  Par. 
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 go, till virginity was first lost. That you were made of, is mettle 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.  Hel. 
I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a Virgin.  Par. 
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 Offendresse against Nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a Cheese, consumes itself to the very pairing, 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 Cannon. Keep it not, you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't: within ten year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with't.  Hel. 
How might one do sir, to lose it to her own liking?  Par. 
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 & the toothpick, which were not now: your Date is better in your Pie and your Porridge, then 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 any thing with it?  Hel. 
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 Traitoresse, 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 christendomes  
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he:  
I know not what he shall, God send him well,  
The Courts a learning place, and he is one.  Par. 
What one i'faith?  Hel. 
That I wish well, 'tis pity.  Par. 
What's pity?  Hel. 
That wishing well had not a body in't,  
Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,  
Whose base stars do shut us up in wishes,  
Might with effects of them follow our friends,  
And show what we alone must think, which never  
Returns us thankes.  Enter Page. Pag. 
Monsieur Parrolles,  
My Lord calls for you.  Par. 
Little Helen farewell, if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at Court.  Hel. 
Monsieur Parolles, you were borne under a charitable star.  Par. 
Under Mars I.  Hel. 
I especially think, under Mars.  Par 
Why under Mars?  Hel. 
The wars hath so kept you under, that you must needs be borne under Mars.  Par. 
When he was predominant.  Hel. 
When he was retrograde I think rather.  Par. 
Why think you so?  Hel. 
You go so much backward when you fight.  Par. 
That's for advantage.  Hel. 
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.  Paroll. 
I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely: I will return perfect Courtier, in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalise thee, so thou wilt be capable of a Courtier's council, 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.  Hel. 
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 hie,  
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 striven  
To show her merit, that did miss her love?  
(The King's disease) my project may deceive me,  
But my intents are fixed, and will not leave me.  Exit Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diverse Attendants. King. 
The Florentines and Senoyss are by th' ears,  
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue  
A braving war.  1. Lo. G. 
So 'tis reported sir.  King. 
Nay 'tis most credible, we here receive it,  
A certainty vouched from our Cousin Austria,  
With caution, that the Florentine will move us  
For speedy aid: wherein our dearest friend  
Preiudicates the business, and would seem  
To have us make denial.  1. Lo. G. 
His love and wisdom  
Approved so to your Majesty, may plead  
For amplest credence.  King. 
He hath armed 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.  2. Lo. E. 
It well may serve  
A nursserie to our Gentry, who are sick  
For breathing, and exploit.  King. 
What's he comes here.  Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolies. 1. Lor. G. 
It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,  
Young Bertram.  King. 
Youth, thou bearest thy Father's face,  
Frank Nature rather curious then in haste  
Hath well composed thee: Thy Father's moral parts  
Mayst thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris.  Ber. 
My thankes and duty are your Majesties.  Kin. 
I would I had that corporal soundness now,  
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship  
First tried out soldiership: he did look fare  
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 bowed 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 followed well, would demonstrate them now  
But goers backward.  Ber. 
His good remembrance sir  
Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tomb:  
So in approof life's 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 scattered 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 judgements are  
Mere fathers of their garments: whose constancies  
Expire before their fashions: this he wished.  
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.  L. 2. E. 
You're loved Sir,  
They that lest lend it you, shall lack you first.  Kin. 
I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count  
Since the Physician at your fathers died?  
He was much famed.  Ber. 
Some six months since my Lord.  Kin. 
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.  Ber. 
Thank your Majesty.  Exit Flourish. Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. Coun. 
I will now hear, what say you of this gentlewoman.  Ste. 
Madam the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the Calendar of my past endeavours, for than we wound our Modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, whenof ourselves we publish them.  Coun. 
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, & have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.  Clo. 
'Tis not unknown to you Madam, I am a poor fellow.  Coun. 
Well sir.  Clo. 
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, Isbell the woman and w will do as we may.  Coun. 
Wilt thou needs be a beggar?  Clo. 
I do beg your good will in this case.  Cou. 
In what case?  Clo. 
In Isabels case and mine own: service is no heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue a my body: for they say barns are blessings.  Cou. 
Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry?  Clo. 
My poor body Madam requires it, I am driven onby the flesh, and he must needs go that the devil drives.  Cou. 
Is this all your worship's reason?  Clo. 
Faith Madam I have other holy reasons, such as they are.  Con. 
May the world know them?  Clo. 
I have been Madam a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are, and indeed I do marry that I may repent.  Cou. 
Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness.  Clo. 
I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.  Cou. 
Such friends are thine enemy's knave.  Clo. 
YE are shallow Madam in great friends, for the knaves come to do that for me which I am a weary of: he that ever's my Land, spares my team, and gives me leave to Inn 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, love's my flesh and blood; he that love's 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, how somere their hearts are severed in Religion, their heads are both one, they may jowl horns together like any Dear i' th' Herd.  Cou. 
Wilt thou ever be a foul mouthed and calumnious knave?  Clo. 
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.  Cou. 
Get you gone sir, I'll talk with you more anon.  Stew. 
May it please you Madam, that he bid Helen come to you, of her I am to speak.  Cou. 
Sirrah tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her, Helen I mean.  Clo. 
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, bis  
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.  Cou. 
What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song sirrah.  Clo. 
One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying o'th' song: would God would serve the world so all the year, weed find no fault with the tithe woman if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and we might have a good woman borne but o'er every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lottery well, a man may draw his heart out ere a pluck one.  Cou. 
You'll begun sir knave▪ and do as I command you?  Clo. 
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 Surplis of humility over the blacke-Gowne of a big heart: I am going forsooth, the business is for Helen to come hither.  Exit. Cou. 
Well now.  Stew. 
I know Madam you love your Gentlewoman entirely.  Cou. 
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 then is paid, and more shall be paid her then she'll demand.  Stew. 
Madam, I was very late more near her then 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, 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 ere 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.  Cou. 
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 Hellen. Old. Cou. 
Even so it was with me when I was young:  
If ever we are natures, these are ours, this thorn  
Doth to our Rose of youth righlie belong  
Our blood to us, this to our blood is borne,  
It is the show, and seal of nature's truth,  
Where love's strong passion is impressed 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.  Hell. 
What is your pleasure Madam?  Ol. Cou. 
You know Helen I am a mother to you.  Hell. 
Mine honourable Mistress.  Ol. Cou. 
Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I said a mother  
Me thought 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 oppressed me with a mother's groan,  
Yet I express to you a mother's care,  
(God's mercy maiden) does it cured thy blood  
To say I am thy mother? what's the matter,  
That this distempered messenger of wet?  
The many coloured Iris rounds thine eye?  
— Why, that you are my daughter?  Hell. 
That I am not.  Old. Cou. 
I say I am your Mother.  Hell. 
Pardon Madam.  
The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:  
I am from humble, he from honoured 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.  Ol. Cou. 
Nor I your Mother.  Hell. 
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, cant no other,  
But I your daughter, he must be my brother.  Old. Cou. 
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 catcht your fondness! now I see  
The mistress of your loveliness, 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 ' tun tooth to th' other, and thine eyes  
See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours,  
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 clue:  
If it be not, forsweareed how ere I charge thee,  
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail  
To tell me truly.  Hell. 
Good Madam pardon me.  Cou. 
Do you love my Son?  Hell. 
Your pardon noble Mistress.  Cou. 
Love you my Son?  Hell. 
Do not you love him Madam?  Cou. 
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 appeached.  Hell. 
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 intemible Siue.  
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 cities a virtuous youth,  
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,  
Wish chastely, and love dear, that your Diana  
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, life's sweetly where she dies.  Cou. 
Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,  
To go to Paris?  Hell 
Madam I had.  Cou. 
Wherefore? tell true.  Hell. 
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 wiled me  
In heedefull'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 languish whereof  
The King is rendered lost.  Cou. 
This was your motive for Paris, was it, speak?  Hell. 
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,  
Happily been absent then.  Cou. 
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  
Embowelled of their doctrine, have left off  
The danger to itself.  Hell. 
There's something in't  
More than my Father's skill, which was the great'st  
Of his profession, that his good receipt,  
Shall for my legacy be sanctified  
By th' luckiest stars in heaven, and would your honour  
But give me leave to try success, I'd venture  
The well lost life of mine, on his Grace's cure,  
By such a day, an hour.  Cou. 
Dost thou believe't?  Hell. 
I Madam knowingly.  Cou. 
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:  
Begun to morrow, and be sure of this,  
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  Enter the King with diverse young Lords, taking leave for the Florentine war: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles, Flourish Cornets. 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.  Lord. G. 
'Tis our hope sir,  
After well entered 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 French men: 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.  L.G. 
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.  Bo. 
Our hearts receive your warnings.  King. 
Farewell, come hither to me.  1. Lo. G. 
Oh my sweet Lord that you will stay behind us.  Parr. 
'Tis not his fault the spark.  2. Lo. E. 
Oh 'tis brave wars.  Parr. 
Most admirable, I have seen those wars.  Rossill. 
I am commanded here, and kept a coil with,  
Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early.  Parr. 
And thy mind stand too't boy,  
Steal away bravely.  Rossill. 
I shall stay here the for-horse to a smock,  
Creeking 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.  1. Lo. G. 
There's honour in the theft.  Parr. 
Commit it Count  2. Lo. E. 
I am your accessary, and so farewell.  Ros. 
I grow to you, & our parting is a tortured body.  1. Lo. G. 
Farewll Captain.  2. Lo. E. 
Sweet monsieur Parolles.  Parr. 
Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kin, good sparks and lustrous, a word good metals. You shall find in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captain Spurio his sicatrice, with 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.  Lo. G. 
We shall noble Captain.  Parr. 
Mars dote on you for his novices, what will ye do?  Ross. 
Stay the King.  Parr. 
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 gate; 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.  Ross. 
And I will do so.  Parr. 
Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy swordmen.  Exeunt. Enter Lafew. L. Laf. 
Pardon my Lord for me and for my tidings.  King. 
I'll see thee to stand up.  L. Laf. 
Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon,  
I would you had kneeled 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 asked thee mercy for't.  Laf. 
Good faith across, but my good Lord 'tis thus,  
Will you be cured of your infirmity?  King. 
No.  Laf. 
O will you eat no grapes my royal fox?  
Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if  
My royal fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine  
That's able to breath life into a stone,  
Quicken a rock, and make you dance Canari  
With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch  
Is powerful to arayse King Pippen, nay  
To give great Charlemagne a pen in's hand  
And write to her a love-line.  King. 
What her is this?  Laf. 
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 tookst it.  Laf. 
Nay, I'll fit you,  
And not be all day neither.  King. 
Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.  Laf. 
Nay, come your ways.  Enter Hellen. King. 
This haste hath wings indeed.  Laf. 
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 Cresseds Uncle,  
That dare leave two together, far you well.  Exit. King. 
Now fair one, does your business follow us?  Hel. 
I my good Lord,  
Gerard de Narbon was my father,  
In what he did profess, well found.  King. 
I knew him.  Hel. 
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 practice  
And of his old experience, th' only 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 touched  
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 bond 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 inaydible estate: I say we must not  
So stain our judgement, 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.  Hell. 
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 again.  King. 
I cannot give thee less to be called grateful:  
Thou thoughtst to help me, and such thankes 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.  Hell. 
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 judgement shown,  
When judges have been babes; great floods have flown  
From simple sources: and great Seas have dried  
When Miracles have by the great'st been denied.  
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there  
Where most it promises: and oft it hits,  
Where hope is coldest, and despair most shifts.  King. 
I must not hear thee, far thee well kind maid,  
Thy pains not used, must by thyself be paid,  
Proffers not taken, reap thanks for their reward.  Hel. 
Inspired Merit so by breath is bar,  
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 Impostrue, that proclaim  
Myself against the levill of mine aim,  
But know I think, and think I know most sure,  
My Art is not past power, nor you past cure.  King. 
Art thou so confident? Within what space  
Hop'st thou my cure?  Hel. 
The greatest 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 quenched her sleepy Lamp:  
Or four and twenty times the Pilots 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 dye.  King. 
Upon thy certainty and confidence,  
What darest thou venture?  Hell. 
Tax of impudence,  
A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame  
Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name  
Seared otherwise, ne worse of worst extended  
With vildest torture, let my life be ended.  Kin. 
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.  Hel. 
If I break time, or flinch in property  
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die,  
And well deserved: not helping, death's my see,  
But if I help, what do you promise me.  Kin. 
Make thy demand.  Hel. 
But will you make it even?  Kin. 
I by my Sceptre, and my hopes of help.  Hel. 
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.  Kin. 
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 canst, how tended on, but rest  
Unquestioned welcome, and undoubted blessed.  
Give me some help here hoa, if thou proceed,  
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.  Flourish. Exit. Enter Countess and Clown. Lady. 
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.  Lady. 
To the Court, why what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt, but to the Court?  Clo. 
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.  Lady. 
Marry that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions.  Clo. 
It is like a Barber's chair that fits all buttocks, the pin buttock, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttock, or any buttock.  Lady. 
Will your answer serve fit to all questions?  Clo. 
As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Attorney, as your French Crown for your taffata 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 quean to a wrangling knave, as the Nun's lip to the Friar's mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin.  Lady. 
Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?  Clo. 
From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable, it will fit any question.  Lady. 
It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands.  Clo. 
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.  Lady. 
To be young again if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer.  La. 
I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?  Clo. 
O Lord sir there's a simple putting off: more, more, a hundred of them.  La. 
Sir I am a poor friend of yours, that love's you.  Clo. 
O Lord sir, thick, thick, spare not me.  La. 
I think sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.  Clo. 
O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you.  La. 
You were lately whipped sir as I think.  Clo. 
O Lord sir, spare not me.  La. 
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 too't.  Clo. 
I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my O Lord sir: I see things may serve long, but not serve ever.  La. 
I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.  Clo. 
O Lord sir, why there't serves well again.  La. 
And 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.  Clo. 
Not much commendation to them.  La. 
Not much imployement for you, you understand me.  Clo 
Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legegs.  La. 
Hast you again.  Exeunt Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles. Ol. Laf. 
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.  Par. 
Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times.  Ros. 
And so ' 'tis.  Ol. Laf. 
To be relinquished of the Artists.  Par. 
So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus.  Ol. Laf. 
Of all the learned and authentic fellows.  Par. 
Right so I say.  Ol Laf. 
That gave him out incurable.  Par. 
Why there 'tis, so say I too.  Ol. Laf. 
Not to be helped.  Par. 
Right, as 'twere a man assured of a—  Ol. Laf. 
Uncertain life, and sure death.  Par. 
Just, you say well: so would I have said.  Ol. Laf. 
I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.  Par. 
It is indeed if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in what do ye call there.  Ol. Laf. 
A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly Actor.  Par. 
That's it, I would have said, the very same.  Ol. Laf. 
Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore me  
I speak in respect—  Par. 
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—  Ol. Laf. 
Very hand of heaven.  Par. 
I, so I say.  Ol. Laf. 
In a most weak—  Par. 
And debile minister great power, great trancendence, which should indeed give us a further use to be made, then alone then recou'ry of the king, as to be  Old Laf. 
Generally thankful.  Enter King, Helen, and attendants. Par. 
I would have said it, you say well: here comes the King.  Ol. Laf. 
Rustic, 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 Carranto.  Par. 
Mor du vinegar, is not this Helen?  Ol. Laf. 
Fore God I think so.  King. 
Go call before me all the Lords in Court,  
Sat my preserver by thy patient's side,  
And with this healthful hand whose banished sense  
Thou hast repealed, a second time receive  
The confirmation of my promised gift,  
Which but attends thy naming.  Enter 3 or 4 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.  Hel. 
To each of you, one fair and virtuous Mistress;  
Fall when love please, marry to each but one.  Old Laf. 
I'd give bay curtal, and his furniture  
My mouth no more were broken then these boys,  
And writ as little beard.  King. 
Peruse them well:  
Not one of those, but had a Noble father.  She addresses her to a Lord. Hel. 
Gentlemen, heaven hath through me, restored the king to health.  All. 
We understand it, and thank heaven for you.  Hel. 
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.  Hel. 
Now Diana from thy Altar do I fly,  
And to imperial love, that God most high  
Do my sighs stream: Sir, will you hear my suit?  1. Lo 
And grant it.  Hel. 
Thanks sir, all the rest is mute.  Ol. Laf. 
I had rather be in this choice, then throw Ames-ace for my life.  Hel. 
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.  2. Lo. 
No better if you please.  Hel. 
My wish receive,  
Which great love grant, and so I take my leave.  Ol. Laf. 
Do all they deny her? And they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped, or I would send them to ' th' Turk to make Eunuches of.  Hel. 
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.  Old Laf. 
These boys are boys of Ice, they'll none have here: sure they are bastards to the English, the French ne'er got 'em.  La. 
You are too young, too happy, and too good  
To make yourself a son out of my blood.  4. Lord. 
Fair one, I think not so.  Ol. Lord 
There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father drunk wine. But if thou best not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen: I have known thee already.  Hel. 
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.  Ber. 
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. 
knowst thou not Bertram what she has done for me?  Ber. 
Yes my good Lord, but never hope to know why I should marry her.  King. 
Thou knowst she has raised me from my sickly bed.  Ber. 
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 disdainest in her, the which  
I can build up: strange is it that our bloods  
Of colour, weight, and heat, poured all together,  
Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off  
In differences so mighty. If she be  
All that is virtuous (save what thou dislik'st)  
A poor Physician's daughter, thou dislik'st  
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:  
From lowest place, whence virtuous things proceed,  
The place is dignified by th' doers deed.  
Where great additions swells, and virtue none,  
It is a dropsied honour. Good a lone,  
Is good without a name? Vileness is so:  
The property by what is 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 honours borne,  
And is not like the fire: Honours thrive,  
When rather from our acts we them derive  
Then our fore-goers: the mere words, a slave  
Deboshed on every tomb, on every grave:  
A lying Trophy, and as oft is dumb,  
Where dust, and damned oblivion is the Tomb.  
Of honoured 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.  Ber. 
I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.  King. 
Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.  Hel. 
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 poizing 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. Cheek 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  
Losing upon thee, in the name of justice,  
Without all terms of pity. Speak, thine answer.  Ber. 
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 borne 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.  Ber. 
I take her hand.  Kin. 
Good fortune, and the favour of the King  
Smile upon this Contract: whose Ceremony  
Shall seem expedient on the now borne brief,  
And be performed to night: the solemn Feast  
Shall more attend upon the coming space,  
Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her,  
Thy love's to me Religious: else, does err.  Exeunt Parolles and Lafeu stay behind, commenting of this wedding. Laf. 
Do you hear Monsieur? A word with you.  Par. 
Your pleasure sir.  Laf. 
Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation.  Par. 
Recantation? My Lord? my Master?  Laf. 
I: Is it not a Language I speak?  Par. 
A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding My Master▪  Laf. 
Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?  Par. 
To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man.  Laf. 
To what is Count's man: Count's master is of another stile.  Par. 
You are too old sir: Let it satisfy you, you are too old.  Laf. 
I must tell thee sirrah, I writ Man: to which title age cannot bring thee.  Par. 
What I dare too well do, I dare not do.  Laf. 
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 scarves and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee, when I lose thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that th' ourt scarce worth.  Par. 
Hadst thou not the privilege of Antiquity upon thee.  Laf. 
Do not plunge thyself to fare in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial: which if, Lord have mercy on thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettuce far thee well, thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.  Par. 
My Lord, you give me most egregious indignity.  Laf. 
I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it.  Par. 
I have not my Lord deserved it.  Laf. 
Yes good faith, every dram of it, and I will not b●te thee a scruple.  Par. 
Well, I shall be wiser.  Laf. 
Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' th' contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shall 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.  Par. 
My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation.  Laf. 
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. Par. 
Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy Lord: Well, I must be patiented, there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him (by my life) if I can meet him with any convenience, and he were double and double a Lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of— I'll beat him, and if I could but meet him again.  Enter Lafew. Laf. 
Sirrah, your Lord and masters married, there's news for you: you have a new Mistress.  Par. 
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.  Laf. 
Who? God.  Par. 
I sir.  Laf. 
The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms a this fashion? Dost make hose of thy 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'd beat thee: meethink'st thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee: I think thou wast created for men to breath themselves upon thee.  Par. 
This is hard and undeserved measure my Lord.  Laf. 
Go too 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'd call you knave. I leave you.  Exit Enter Count Rossillion. Par. 
Good, very good, it is so then: good, very good, let it be concealed awhile.  Ros. 
Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever.  Par. 
What's the matter sweetheart?  Rossill. 
Although before the solemn Priest I have sworn, I will not bed her.  Par. 
What? what sweet heart?  Ros. 
O my Parrolles, they have married me:  
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.  Par. 
France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,  
The tread of a man's foot: too ' th' wars.  Ros. 
There's letters from my mother: What th' import is, I know not yet.  Par. 
I that would be known: too ' th' wars my boy, too ' th' wars:  
He wears his honour in a box unseen,  
That hugs his kickie wickie hear at home,  
Spending his manly marrow in her arms  
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet  
Of Mars' fiery steed: to other Regions,  
France is a stable, we that dwell in't jades,  
Therefore too ' th' war.  Ros. 
It shall be so, I'll send her to my house,  
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,  
And wherefore I am fled: Writ to the King  
That which I durst not speak. His present gift  
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields  
Where noble fellows strike: Wars is no strife  
To the dark house, and the detected wife.  Par. 
Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?  Ros. 
Go with me to my chamber, and advice me.  
I'll send her strait away: To morrow,  
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.  Par. 
Why these balls bound, there's noise in it. 'tis hard  
A young man married, is a man that's marred:  
Therefore away, and leave her bravely: go,  
The King has done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.  Exit Enter Helena and Clowne. Hel. 
My mother greets me kindly, is she well?  Clo. 
She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's very merry, but yet she is not well: but thankes be given she's very well, and wants nothing i' th' world: but yet she is not well.  Hel. 
If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well?  Clo. 
Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things  Hel. 
What two things?  Clo. 
One, that she's not in heaven, whether God send her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly.  Enter Parolles. Par. 
Bless you my fortunate Lady.  Hel. 
I hope sir I have your good will to have mine own good fortune.  Par. 
You had my prayers to lead them on, and to keep them on, have them still. O my knave, how does my old Lady?  Clo. 
So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,  
I would she did as you say.  Par. 
Why I say nothing.  Clo. 
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.  Par. 
Away, th' art a knave.  Clo. 
You should have said sir before a knave, th' art a knave, that's before me th' art a knave: this had been truth sir.  Par. 
Go too, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.  Clo. 
Did you find me in yourself sir, or were you taught to find me?  Clo. 
The search sir was profitable, and much Fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter.  Par. 
A good knave i'faith, and well fed.  
Madam, my Lord will go away to night,  
A very serrious 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 compelled restraint:  
Whose want, and whose delay▪ is strewed with sweets  
Which they distil now in the kerbed time,  
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,  
And pleasure drown the brim.  Hell▪ 
What's his will else?  Par. 
That you will take your instant leave o' th' king,  
And make this haste as your own good proceeding,  
Strengthened with what Apology you think  
May make it probable need.  Hel. 
What more commands he?  Par. 
That having this obtained, you presently  
Attend his further pleasure.  Hel. 
In every thing I wait upon his will.  Par. 
I shall report it so,  Exit Par. Hell. 
I pray you come sirrah.  Exit Enter Lafew and Bertram. Laf. 
But I hope your Lordship thinks not him a soldier.  Ber. 
Yes my Lord and of very valiant approof.  Laf. 
You have it from his own deliverance.  Ber. 
And by other warranted testimony.  Laf. 
Then my Dial goes not true, I took this Lark for a bunting.  Ber. 
I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.  Laf. 
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. Par. 
These things shall be done sir.  Laf. 
Pray you sir whose his Tailor?  Par 
Sir?  Laf. 
O I know him well, I sir, he sirs a good workman, a very good Tailor.  Ber. 
Is she gone to the king?  Par. 
She is.  Ber. 
Will she away to night?  Par. 
As you'll have her.  Ber. 
I have writ my letters, casketted my treasure,  
Given order for our horses, and to night,  
When I should take possession of the Bride,  
And ere I do begin.  Laf. 
A good Traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once hard, and thrice beaten. God save you Captain.  Ber. 
Is there any unkindness between my Lord and you Monsieur?  Par. 
I know not how I have deserved to run into my Lord's displeasure.  Laf. 
You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.  Ber. 
It may be you have mistaken him my Lord.  Laf. 
And shall do so ever, though I took him at's prayers. Far 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, & 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.  Par. 
An idle Lord, I swear.  Ber. 
I think so.  Par. 
Why do you not know him?  Ber. 
Yes, I do know him well, and common speech  
Gives him a worthy pass. here comes my clog.  Enter Helena. Hel. 
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.  Ber. 
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 your 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,  
'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so  
I leave you to your wisdom.  Hel. 
Sir, I can nothing say,  
But that I am your most obedient servant.  Ber. 
Come, come, no more of that.  Hel. 
And ever shall  
With true observance seek to eke out that  
Wherein toward me my homely stars have failed  
To equal my great fortune.  Ber. 
Let that go: my haste is very great. Farewell:  
Hie home.  Hel. 
Pray sir your pardon.  Ber. 
Well, what would you say?  Hel. 
I am not worthy of the wealth I own,  
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.  Ber. 
What would you have?  Hel. 
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.  Ber. 
I pray you stay not, but in haste to horse.  Hel. 
I shall not break your bidding, good my Lord:  
Where are my other men? Monsieur, farewell.  Exit Ber. 
Go thou toward home, where I will never come,  
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum:  
Away, and for our flight.  Par. 
Bravely, Coragio.   

Actus Tertius.  Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, 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.  1. 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.  French E. 
Good my Lord,  
The reasons of our stare I cannot yield,  
But like a common and an outward man,  
That the great figure of a Counsel 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 guest.  Duke. 
Be it his pleasure.  Fren. G. 
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 ' th' the field.  Flourish. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. 
It hath happened all, as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her.  Clo. 
By my troth I take my young Lord to be a very melancholy man.  Count. 
By what observance I pray you.  Clo. 
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 hold a goodly Manor for a song.  Lad. 
Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.  Clow. 
I have no mind to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old ling, and our Isabels o' th' Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isabels o' th' Court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man love's money, with no stomach.  Lad. 
What have we here?  Clo. 
In that you have there.  exit A Letter. 
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.  Enter Clown. Clow. 
O Madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers, and my young Lady.  La. 
What is the matter.  Clo. 
Nay there is some comfort in the news, some comfort, your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.  La. 
Why should he be killed?  Clo. 
So say I Madame, if he run away, as I hear he does, the danger is in standing too'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.  Enter Helen and two Gentlemen. French E. 
Save you good Madam.  Hel. 
Madam, my Lord is gone, for ever gone.  French G. 
Do not say so.  La. 
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?  Fren. G. 
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.  Hel. 
Look on his Letter Madam, here's my Passport.  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 too, then call me husband: but in such a (then) I writ a Never. 
This is a dreadful sentence.  La. 
Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?  1. G. 
I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorry for our pains.  Old La. 
I prithee Lady have a better cheer,  
If thou engrossest, all the griefs are thine,  
Thou robbest 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?  Fren. G. 
I Madam.  La. 
And to be a soldier.  Fren. G. 
Such is his noble purpose, and believe't  
The Duke will lay upon him all the honour  
That good convenience claims.  La. 
Return you thither.  Fren. E. 
I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.  Hel. 
Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France,  
'Tis bitter.  La. 
Find you that there?  Hel. 
I Madame.  Fren. E. 
'Tis but the boldness of his hand haply, which his heart was not consenting too.  Lad. 
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?  Fren. E. 
A servant only, and a Gentleman: whlch I have sometime known.  La. 
Parolles was it not?  Fren. E. 
I my good Lady, he.  La. 
A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness,  
My son corrupts a well derived nature  
With his inducement.  Fren. E. 
Indeed good Lady the fellow has a deal of that, too much, which holds him much to have.  La. 
YE are 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.  Fren. G. 
We serve you Madam in that and all your worthiest affairs.  La. 
Not so, but as we change our courtesies,  
Will you draw near?  Exit. Hel. 
Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.  
Nothing in France until he has no wife:  
Thou shalt have none Rossillion, 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  
Was't shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark  
Of smoky Musket's? 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:  
Who ever shoots at him, I set him there.  
Who ever charges on his forward breast  
I am the Caitiff that do hold him too't,  
And though I kill him not, I am the cause  
His death was so effected: Better 'twere  
I met the ravine Lion when he roared  
With sharp constraint of hunger: better 'twere,  
That all the miseries which nature owes  
Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,  
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 Angles 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. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpet's, soldiers, Parrolles. Duke. 
The General of our horse thou art, and we  
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence  
Upon thy promising fortune▪  Ber. 
Sir it is  
A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet  
we'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake,  
To th' extreme edge of hazard.  Duke. 
Then go thou forth,  
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm  
As thy auspicious mistress.  Ber. 
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 omnes Enter Countess & Steward. La. 
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.  
Letter.  
I am S. 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.  
Writ, writ, that from the bloody course of war,  
My dearest Master your dear son, may high,  
Bless him at home in peace. Whilst I from fare,  
His name with zealous fervour 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.  
Ah what sharp stings are in her mildest words?  
Rynaldo, 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.  Ste. 
Pardon me Madam,  
If I had given you this at overnight,  
She might have been o'erta'en: and yet she writes  
Pursuit would be but vain.  La. 
What Angel shall  
Bless this unworthy husband, he cannot thrive,  
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to bear  
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath  
Of greatest justice. Writ, writ Rynaldo,  
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 A Tucket afar off. Enter old Widow of Florence, her daughter, 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.  Wid. 
It is reported,  
That he has taken their great'st Commander,  
And that with his own hand he slew  
The Duke's brother: we have lost our labour,  
They are gone a contrary ways hark,  
you may know by their Trumpets.  Maria. 
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.  Maria. 
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 wrack of maiden-hood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threatens them. I hope I need not to advice 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.  Dia. 
You shall not need to fear me.  Enter Hellen. Wid. 
I hope so: 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, whether are bound?  Hel. 
To S. jaques la grand.  
Where do the Palmer's lodge, I do beseech you?  Wid. 
At the S. Francis here beside the Port.  Hel. 
Is this the way?  A march afar. Wid. 
I marry is't. 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.  Hel. 
Is it yourself?  Wid. 
If you shall please so Pilgrim.  Hel. 
I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.  Wid. 
you came I think from France?  Hel. 
I did so.  Wid. 
here you shall see a Countryman of yours  
That has done worthy service.  Hel. 
His name I pray you?  Dia. 
The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?  Hel. 
But by the ear that hears most nobly of him:  
His face I know not.  Dia. 
What somere 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?  Hel. 
I surely mere the truth, I know his Lady.  Dia. 
There is a Gentleman that serves the Count,  
Reports but coursely of her.  Hel. 
What's his name?  Dia. 
Monsieur Parrolles.  Hel. 
Oh 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.  Dian. 
Alas poor Lady,  
'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife  
Of a detesting Lord.  Wid. 
I writ good creature, wheresoever she is,  
Her hart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her  
A shrewd turn if she pleased.  Hel. 
How do you mean?  
May be the amorous Count solicits her  
In the unlawful purpose.  Wid. 
He does indeed,  
And broke with all that can in such a suit  
Corrupt the tender honour of a Maid:  
But she is armed for him, and keeps her guard  
In honestest defence.  Drum and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the whole Army. Mar. 
The gods forbidden else.  Wid. 
So, now they come:  
That is Anthonio the Duke's eldest son,  
That Escalus.  Hel. 
Which is the Frenchman?  Dia. 
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  Hel. 
I like him well.  Di. 
'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.  Hel. 
Which is he?  Dia. 
That jacke anapes with scarves. Why is he melancholy?  Hel. 
Perchance he●s hurt i' th' battle.  Par. 
Lose our drum? Well.  Mar. 
He's shrewdly vexed at something. Look he has spied us.  Wid. 
Marry hang you.  Mar. 
And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier.  Exit. Wid. 
The troop is past: Come pilgrim, I will bring you, Where you shall host: Of enjoined penitents  
There's four or five, to great S. jaques bound,  
Already at my house.  Hel. 
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 Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first. Cap. E. 
Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him have his way.  Cap. G. 
If your Lordship find him not a Hilding, hold me no more in your respect.  Cap. E. 
On my life my Lord▪ a bubble.  Ber. 
Do you think I am so fare  
Deceived in him.  Cap. E. 
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.  Cap. G. 
It were fit you knew him, least▪ reposing too fare in his virtue which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you.  Ber. 
I would I knew in what particular action to try him.  Cap. G. 
None better then to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.  C.E. 
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 judgement in any thing.  Cap. G. 
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 this success in't, and to what mettle this counterfeit lump of ours will be melted if you give him not john drums entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. here he comes.  Enter Parrolles. Cap. E. 
O for the love of laughter hinder not the honour of his design, let him fetch off his drum in any hand.  Ber. 
How now Monsieur? This drum sticks sorely in your disposition.  Cap. G. 
A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drum.  Par. 
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.  Cap. G. 
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.  Ber. 
Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum, but it is not to be recovered.  Par. 
It might have been recovered.  Ber. 
It might, but it is not now.  Par. 
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 iacet.  Ber. 
Why if you have a stomach, too'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.  Par. 
By the hand of a soldier I will undertake it.  Ber. 
But you must not now slumber in it.  Par. 
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.  Ber. 
May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it.  Par. 
I know not what the success will be my Lord, but the attempt I vow.  Ber. 
I know th' art valiant,  
And to the possibility of thy soldiership,  
Will subscribe for thee: Farewell.  Par. 
I love not many words.  Exit Cap. E. 
No more than a fish love's 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, & dares better be damned then to do't.  Cap. G. 
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.  Ber. 
Why do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto?  Cap. E. 
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.  Cap. G. 
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.  Cap. E. 
I must go look my twigs,  
He shall be caught.  Ber. 
Your brother he shall go along with me.  Cap. G. 
As't please your Lordship, I'll leave you.  Ber. 
Now will I lead you to the house, and show you  
The Lass I spoke of.  Cap. E. 
But you say she's honest.  Ber. 
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' th' wind  
Tokens and Letters, which she did resend,  
And this is all I have done: She's a fair creature,  
Will you go see her?  Cap. E. 
With all my heart my Lord.  Exeunt Enter Helen, and Widow. Hel. 
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.  Wid. 
Though my estate be fall'n, I was well borne,  
Nothing acquainted with these businesses,  
And would not put my reputation now  
In any staining act.  Hel. 
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.  Wid. 
I should believe you,  
For you have showed me that which well approves  
YE are great in fortune.  Hel. 
Take this purse of Gold,  
And let me buy your friendly help thus fare,  
Which I will over-pay, and pay again  
When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter,  
Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,  
Resolve to carry her: let her in fine consent  
As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it:  
Now his important blood will naught 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,  
How ere repent after.  Wid. 
Now I see the bottom of your purpose.  Hel. 
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  
To marry her, I'll add three thousand Crowns  
To what is passed already.  Wid. 
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 steeds us  
To chide him from our eves, for he persists  
As if his life lay on't.  Hel. 
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.   

Actus Quartus.  Enter one of the Frenchmen, with five or six other soldiers in ambush. 1. Lord. E. 
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.  1. Sol. 
Good Captain, let me be th' Interpreter.  Lor. E. 
Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?  1. Sol. 
No sir I warrant you.  Lo. E. 
But what linsey wolsy hast thou to speak to us again.  1. Sol. 
E'en such as you speak to me.  Lo. E. 
He must think us some band of strangers, i' th' 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 strait our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch hoa, here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return & swear the lies he forges.  Enter Parrolles. Par. 
Ten a 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 Ma●s before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.  Lo. E. 
This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue was guilty of.  Par. 
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-womans' mouth, and buy myself another of Baiazeths' Mule, if you prattle me into these perils.  Lo. E. 
Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is.  Par. 
I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.  Lo. E. 
We cannot afford you so.  Par. 
Or the bearing of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem.  Lo. E. 
'Twould not do.  Par. 
Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.  Lo. E. 
Hardly serve.  Par. 
Though I swore I leapt from the window of the Citadel.  Lo. E. 
How deep?  Par. 
Thirty fathom.  Lo. E. 
Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.  Par. 
I would I had any drum of the enemies, I would swear I recovered it.  Lo. E. 
You shall hear one anon.  Par. 
A drum now of the enemies.  Alarm within. Lo E. 
Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.  All. 
Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.  Par. 
O ransom, ransom,  
Do not hide mine eyes.  Inter. 
Boskos thromuldo boskos.  Par. 
I know you are the Mu●kos 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.  Int. 
Boskos vauvado, I understand thee, & can speak thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom.  Par. 
Oh.  Inter. 
Oh pray, pray, pray,  
Manka re●ania dulche.  Lo. E. 
Oscorbidulchos voliuorc●.  Int. 
The General is content to spare thee yet,  
And hoodwinked as thou art, will lead thee on  
To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform  
Something to save thy life.  Par. 
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.  Inter. 
But wilt thou faithfully?  Par. 
If I do not, damn me.  Inter. 
Acordo linta.  
Come on, thou are granted space.  Exit A short Alarm within. L.E. 
Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother,  
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled  
Till we do hear from them.  Sol. 
Captain I will.  L.E. 
A will betray us all unto ourselves,  
Inform on that.  Sol. 
So I will sir.  L.E. 
Till than I'll keep him dark and safely locked.  Exit Enter Bertram, and the Maid called Diana. Ber. 
They told me that your name was Fontybell.  Dia. 
No my good Lord, Diana.  Ber. 
Titled Goddess,  
And worth it with addition: but fair soul,  
In your fine frame hath love no quality?  
If the 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 stern,  
And now you should be as your mother was  
When your sweet self▪ was got.  Dia. 
She than was honest.  Ber. 
So should you be.  Dia. 
No:  
My mother did but duty, such (my Lord)  
As you own to your wife.  Ber. 
No more o' that:  
I prithee do not strive against my vows:  
I was compelled to her, but I love thee  
By loves own sweet constraint, and will for ever  
Do thee all rights of service.  Dia. 
I 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.  Ber. 
How have I sworn.  Dia. 
'tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,  
But the plain single vow, that is vowed true:  
What is not holy, that we swear not by,  
But take the highest to witness: then pray you tell me.  
If I should swear by Jove'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 unsealed  
At lest in my opinion.  Ber. 
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 recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever  
My love as it begins, shall so persever.  Dia. 
I see that men make rope's in such a scar,  
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that Ring.  Ber. 
I'll lend it thee my dear; but have no power  
To give it from me.  Dia. 
Will you not my Lord?  Ber. 
It is an honour longing to our house,  
Bequeathed down from many Ancestors,  
Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world,  
In me to lose.  Dian. 
Mine Honours such a Ring,  
My chastities the jewel of our house,  
Bequeathed down from many Ancestors,  
Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world,  
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom  
Brings in the Champion honour on my part,  
Against your vain assault.  Ber. 
here, take my Ring,  
My house, mine honour, yea my life be thine,  
And I'll be bid by thee.  Dia▪ 
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 conquered 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 delivered:  
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.  Ber. 
A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.  Di. 
For which, live long to thank both heaven & me,  
You may so in the end.  
My mother told me just how he would woe,  
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 Enter the two French Captains, and some two or three Soldiers. Cap. G. 
You have not given him his mother's letter.  Cap E. 
I have delivered it an hour since, there is some thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it, he changed almost into another man.  Cap. G. 
He has much worthy blame laid upon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady.  Cap. E. 
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.  Cap. G. 
When you have spoken it 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.  Cap. E. 
He hath perverted a young Gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night he flesh's his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental Ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.  Cap. G. 
Now God delay our rebellion as we are ourselves, what things are we.  Cap. E. 
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.  Cap. G. 
Is it not meant damnable in us, to be Trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to night?  Cap. E. 
Not till after midnight: for he is dieted to his hour.  Cap. G. 
That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his company anathomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.  Cap. E. 
We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other.  Cap. G. 
In the mean time, what hear you of these Wars?  Cap. E. 
I hear there is an overture of peace.  Cap. G. 
Nay, I assure you a peace concluded.  Cap. E. 
What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he travail higher, or return again into France?  Cap. G. 
I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.  Cap. E. 
Let it be forbid sir, so should I be a great deal of his act.  Cap. G. 
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, & now she sings in heaven.  Cap. E. 
How is this justified?  Cap. G. 
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.  Cap. E. 
Hath the Count all this intelligence?  Cap. G. 
I, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.  Cap. E. 
I am hearty sorry that he'll be glad of this.  Cap. G. 
How mightily sometimes, we make us comforts of our losses.  Cap. E. 
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.  Cap. G. 
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?  Ser. 
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.  Cap. E. 
They shall be no more then needful there, if they were more than they can commend.  Enter Count Rossillion. Ber. 
They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness, here's his Lordship now. How now my Lord, is't not after midnight?  Ber. 
I have to night dispatched sixteen businesses, a month's length a piece, by an abstract of success: I have congeed 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, & between these main parcels of dispatch, affected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.  Cap. E. 
If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your Lordship.  Ber. 
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, ha●s deceived me, like a double-meaning Prophesier.  Cap. E. 
Bring him forth, has sat i' th' stocks all night poor gallant knave.  Ber. 
No matter, his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?  Cap. E. 
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' th' stocks: and what think you he hath confessed?  Ber. 
Nothing of me, has a?  Cap. E. 
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 with his Interpreter. Ber. 
A plague upon him, muffled; he can say nothing of me: hush, hush.  Cap. G. 
Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa.  Inter. 
He calls for the tortures, what will you say without 'em.  Par. 
I will confess what I know without constraint,  
If ye pinch me like a Pastry, I can say no more.  Int. 
Bosko Chimurcho.  Cap. 
Boblibindo chicurmurco.  Int. 
You are a merciful General: Our General bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a Note.  Par. 
And truly, as I hope to live.  Int. 
First demand of him, how many horse the Duke is strong. What say you to that?  Par. 
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.  Int. 
Shall I set down your answer so?  Par. 
Do, I'll take the Sacrament on't, how & which way you will: all's one to him.  Ber. 
What a past-saving slave is this?  Cap. G. 
You're deceived my Lord, this is Mounsieur Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his own phrase that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger.  Cap. E. 
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.  Int. 
Well, that's set down.  Par. 
Five or six thousand horse I said, I will say true, or thereabouts set down, for I'll speak truth.  Cap. G. 
He's very near the truth in this.  Ber. 
But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he delivers it.  Par. 
Poor rogues, I pray you say.  Int. 
Well, that's set down.  Par. 
I humbly thank you sir, a truth's a truth, the Rogues are marvellous poor.  Interp. 
Demand of him of what strength they are a foot. What say you to that?  Par. 
By my troth sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred & fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, jaques so many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred fifty each: Mine own Company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentij, two hundred fifty each: so that the muster file, rotten and sound, upon my life amounts not to fifteen thousand pole, half of the which, dare not shake the snow from off their Cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.  Ber. 
What shall be done to him?  Cap. G. 
Nothing, but let him have thankes. Demand of him my condition: and what credit I have with the Duke.  Int. 
Well that's set down: you shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' 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-waighing sums of gold to corrupt him to a revolt. What say you to this? What do you know of it?  Par. 
I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them singly.  Int, 
Do you know this Captain Dumain?  Par. 
I know him, a was a Butchers Prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the Shrieves fool with child, a dumb innocent that could not say him nay.  Ber. 
Nay, by your leave hold your hands, though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.  Int. 
Well, is this Captain in the Duke of Florence's camp?  Par. 
Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy.  Cay. G. 
Nay look not so upon me: we shall hear of your Lord anon.  Int. 
What is his reputation with the Duke?  Par. 
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' th' band. I think I have his Letter in my pocket.  Int. 
Marry we'll search.  Par. 
In good sadness I do not know, either it is there, or it is upon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my Tent.  Int. 
here 'tis, here's a paper, shall I read it to you?  Par. 
I do not know if it be it or no.  Ber. 
Our Interpreter does it well.  Cap. G. 
Excellently.  Int. 
Diana, the Counts a fool, and full of gold.  Par. 
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 Rossillion, a foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you sir put it up again.  Int. 
Nay, I'll read it first by your favour.  Par. 
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.  Ber. 
Damnable bothsides rogue.  Int Let. 
When he swears oaths, hide 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 (Diana) told thee this:  
Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss.  
For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,  
Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.  
Thine as he vowed to thee in thine ear,  Parolles. Ber. 
He shall be whipped through the Army with this rhyme in's forehead.  Cap. E. 
This is your devoted friend sir, the manifold Linguist, and the armypotent soldier.  Ber. 
I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and now he's a Cat to me.  Int. 
I perceive sir by your General's looks, we shall be fain to hang you.  Par. 
My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraid to dye, but that my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of Nature. Let me live sir in a dungeon, i' th' stocks, or any where, so I may live.  Int. 
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?  Par. 
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 bedcloathes 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.  Cap. G. 
I begin to love him for this.  Ber. 
For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he's more and more a Cat.  Int. 
What say you to his expertness in war?  Par. 
Faith sir, 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.  Cap. G. 
He hath out-villained villainy so fare, that the rarity redeems him.  Ber. 
A pox on him, he's a Cat still.  Int. 
His qualities being at this poor price. I need not to ask you, if Gold will corrupt him to revolt.  Par. 
Sir, for a Cardceve he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.  Int. 
What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain?  Cap. E. 
Why does he ask him of me?  Int. 
What's he?  Par. 
E'en a Crow o' th' 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.  Int. 
If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine.  Par. 
I, and the Captain of his horse, Count Rossillion.  Int. 
I'll whisper with the General, and know his pleasure.  Par. 
I'll no more drumming, a plague of all drums, only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition o' that lascivious young boy the Count, have I run into this danger: yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?  Int. 
There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the General says, you that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use: therefore you must dye. Come headesman, off with his head.  Par. 
O Lord sir let me live, or let me see my death.  Int. 
That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends:  
So, look about you, know you any here?  Count. 
Good morrow noble Captain.  Lo. E. 
God bless you Captain Parolles.  Cap. G. 
God save you noble Captain.  Lo. E. 
Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France.  Cap. G. 
Good Captain will you give me a Copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rossillion, and I were not a very Coward, I'd compel it of you, but far you well.  Exeunt. Int. 
You are undone Captain all but your scarf, that has a knot on't yet.  Par. 
Who cannot be crushed with a plot?  Inter. 
If you could find out a Country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent Nation. Far ye well sir, I am for France too, we shall speak of you there.  Exit Par. 
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 Parrolles live  
Safest in shame: being fooled, by fool'rie thrive;  
There's place and means for every man alive.  
I'll after them.  Exit. Enter Helen, Widow, and Diana. Hel. 
That you may well perceive I have not wronged you,  
One of the greatest in the Christian world  
Shall be my surety: for 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 thankes. I duly am informed,  
His grace is at Marcellae, 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.  Wid. 
Gentle Madam,  
You never had a servant to whose trust  
Your business was more welcome.  Hel. 
Nor your 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 cozened 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.  Dia. 
Let death and honesty  
Go with your impositions, I am yours  
Upon your will to suffer.  Hel. 
Yet I pray you:  
But with the word the time will bring on summer,  
When Briars 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 fines the Crown;  
What ere the course, the end is the renown.  Exeunt Enter Clown, old Lady, and Lafew. Laf. 
No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the vnbaked and dowy 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, then by that red-tailed humble Bee I speak of.  La. 
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.  Laf. 
'twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. We may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.  Clo. 
Indeed sir she was the sweet Margerom of the salad, or rather the herb of grace.  Laf. 
They are not herbs you knave, they are nose-hearbes.  Clown. 
I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I have not much skill in grace.  Laf. 
Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?  Clo. 
A fool sir at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's.  Laf. 
Your distinction.  Clo. 
I would cousin the man of his wife, and do his service.  Laf. 
So you were a knave at his service indeed.  Clo. 
And I would give his wife my bauble sir to do her service.  Laf. 
I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.  Clo. 
At your service.  Laf. 
No, no, no.  Clo. 
Why sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are.  Laf. 
Whos's that, a Frenchman?  Clo. 
Faith sir a has an English main, but his physiognomy is more hotter in France then there.  Laf. 
What prince is that?  Clo. 
The black prince sir, alias the prince of darkness, alias the devil.  Laf. 
Hold thee there's my purse, I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serve him still.  Clo. 
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 i'll and tender, and they'll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.  Laf. 
Go thy ways, I begin to be a weary 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 too, without any tricks.  Clo. 
If I put any tricks upon 'em sir, they shall be jades tricks, which are their own right by the law of Nature.  exit Laf. 
A shrewd knave and an unhappy.  Lady. 
So a 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.  Laf. 
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 fit matter. How does your Ladyship like it?  La. 
With very much content my Lord, and I wish it happily effected.  Laf. 
His Highness comes post from Marcellus, of as able body as when he numbered thirty, a will be here to morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.  La. 
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.  Laf. 
Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.  Lad. 
You need but plead your honourable privilege.  Laf. 
Lady, of that I have made a bold charter, but I thank my God, it holds yet.  Enter Clown. Clo. 
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.  Laf. 
A scar nobly got,  
Or a noble scar, is a good liu'rie of honour,  
So belike is that.  Clo. 
But it is your carbinadoed face.  Laf. 
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  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Helen, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants. Hel. 
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 unroote you. In happy time,  Enter a gentle Astringer. 
This man may help me to his Majesty's ear,  
If he would spend his power. God save you sir.  Gent. 
And you.  Hel. 
Sir, I have seen you in the Court of France.  Gent. 
I have been sometimes there.  Hel. 
I do presume sir, that you are not fall'n  
From the report that goes upon your goodness,  
And 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.  Gent. 
What's your will?  Hel. 
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.  Gen. 
The Kings not here.  Hel. 
Not here sir?  Gen. 
Not indeed,  
He hence removed last night, and with more haste  
Than is his use.  Wid. 
Lord how we lose our pains.  Hel. 
All's well that ends well yet,  
Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit:  
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?  Gent. 
Marry as I take it to Rossillion,  
Wither I am going.  Hel. 
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.  Gent. 
This I'll do for you.  Hel. 
And you shall find yourself to be well thanked what e'er falls more. We must to horse again, Go, go, provide.  Enter Clowne and Parrolles. Par. 
Good Mr 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.  Clo. 
Truly, Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no Fish of Fortunes butt'ring. Pre thee allow the wind.  Par. 
Nay you need not to stop your nose sir: I spoke but by a Metaphor.  Clo. 
Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stink, I will stop my nose, or against any man's Metaphor. Prithee get thee further.  Par. 
Pray you sir deliver me this paper.  Clo. 
Foh, prithee stand away: a paper from fortune's close-stool, to give to a Nobleman. Look here he comes himself.  Enter Lafew. Clo. 
here is a purre of Fortune's sir, or of Fortune's Cat, but not a Muscat, that has fall'n 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 smiles of comfort, and leave him to your Lordship.  Par. 
My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.  Laf. 
And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pair 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? There's a Cardecu for you: Let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.  Par. 
I beseech your honour to hear me one single word▪  Laf. 
you beg a single penny more: Come you shall ha●t, save your word.  Par. 
My name my good Lord is Parrolles.  Laf. 
You beg more than word then. Cox my passion, give me your hand: How does your drum?  Par. 
O my good Lord, you were the first that found me.  Laf. 
Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee.  Par. 
It lies in you my Lord to bring me in some grace for you did bring me out.  Laf. 
Out upon thee knave, dost thou put upon me at once both the offiee of God and the devil: one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings 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 too, follow.  Par. 
I praise God for you.  Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with attendants. Kin. 
We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem  
Was made much poorer by it: but your son,  
As mad in folly, lacked the sense to know  
Her estimation home.  Old La. 
'Tis past my Liege,  
And I beseech your Majesty to make it  
Natural rebellion, done i' th' blade of youth,  
When oil and fire, too strong for reasons force,  
Ore-beares it, and burns on.  Kin. 
My honoured Lady,  
I have forgiven and forgotten all,  
Though my revenges were high bend upon him,  
And watched the time to shoot.  Laf. 
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 scorned to serve,  
Humbly called Mistress.  Kin. 
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  
Th' incensing relics of it. Let him approach  
A stranger, no offender; and inform him  
So 'tis our will he should▪  Gent. 
I shall my Liege.  Kin. 
What says he to your daughter,  
Have you spoke?  Laf. 
All that he is, hath reference to your Highness.  Kin. 
Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me, that sets him high in fame.  Enter Count Bertram. Laf. 
He looks well on't.  Kin. 
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.  Ber. 
My high repent blames  
Dear Sovereign pardon to me.  Kin. 
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 quickest decrees  
Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time  
Steals, ere we can effect them. You remember  
The daughter of this Lord?  Ber. 
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 enfixing,  
Contempt his scornful Perspective did lend me,  
Which warped the line, of every other favour,  
Scorned a fair colour, or expressed 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.  Kin. 
Well excused:  
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away  
From the great count: 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, e  
While shameful hate 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 widowers second marriage day:  
Which better then the first, O dear heaven bless,  
Or, ere they meet in me, O Nature cease.  Laf. 
Come on my son, in whom my houses name  
Must be digested: give a favour from you  
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,  
That she may quickly come. 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 ere I took her leave at Court,  
I saw upon her finger.  Ber. 
Hers it was not.  King. 
Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye,  
While I was speaking, oft was fastened too'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?  Ber. 
My gracious Sovereign,  
How ere it pleases you to take it so,  
The ring was never hers.  Old La. 
Son, on my life  
I have seen her wear it, and she reckoned it  
At her life's rate.  Laf. 
I am sure I saw her wear it.  Ber. 
You are deceived my Lord, she never saw it:  
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,  
Wrapped in a paper, which contained 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 informed 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.  Kin. 
Platus himself,  
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,  
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,  
Then I have in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's,  
Who ever 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 called 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.  Ber. 
She never saw it.  Kin. 
Thou speakest it falsely: as I love mine Honour,  
And makest connecturall fears to come into me,  
Which I would feign 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,  
My forepast proofs, how ere the matter fall  
Shall taze my fears of little vanity,  
Having vainly feared too little. Away with him,  
we'll sift this matter further.  Ber. 
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.  Enter a Gentleman. King. 
I am wrapped in dismal think.  Gen. 
Gracious Sovereign.  
Whether I have been too 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,  
Vanquished 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.  A Letter. 
Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rossillion a Widower, his vows are forfeited to me, and my honours 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.  Laf. 
I will buy me a son in Law in a fair, and toll for this. I'll none of him.  Kin. 
The heavens have thought well on thee Lafew,  
To bring forth this discou'rie, seek these suitors:  
Go speedily, and bring again the Count  Enter Bertram. 
I am a-feard the life of Helen (Lady)  
Was foully snatched.  Old La. 
Now justice on the doers.  King. 
I wonder sir, sir, wives are monsters to you,  
And that you fly them as you swear them Lordship,  
Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?  Enter Widow, Diana, and Parrolles. Dia. 
I am my Lord a wretched Florentine,  
Derived from the ancient Capilet,  
My suit as I do understand you know,  
And therefore know how fare I may be pitied.  Wid. 
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?  Ber. 
My Lord, I neither can nor will deny,  
But that I know them, do they charge me further?  Dia. 
Why do you look so strange upon your wife?  Ber. 
She's none of mine my Lord.  Dia. 
If you shall marry  
You give away this hand, and that is mine,  
You give away heavens 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.  Laf. 
your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her.  Ber. 
My Lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,  
Whom sometime I have laughed with: Let your highness  
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,  
Then for to think that I would sink it here.  Kin. 
Sir for my thoughts, you have them il to friend,  
Till your deeds gain them fairer: prove your honour,  
Then in my thought it lies.  Dian. 
Good my Lord,  
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think  
He had not my virginity.  Kin. 
What sayest thou to her?  Ber. 
She's impudent my Lord,  
And was a common gamester to the Campe.  Dia. 
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' th' Camp  
If I be one.  Coun. 
He blushes, and 'tis hit:  
Of six preceding Ancestors, that gem  
Conferred by testament to ' th' sequent issue  
Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife,  
That Ring's a thousand proofs.  King. 
Me thought you said  
You saw one here in Court could witness it.  Dia. 
I did my Lord, but loath am to produce  
So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles.  Laf. 
I saw the man to day, if man he be.  Kin. 
Find him, and bring him hither.  Ros. 
What of him:  
He's quoted for a most pe fidious slave  
With all the spots o' th' world, taxed and deboshed,  
Whose nature sickens: but to speak a truth,  
Am I, or that or this for what he'll utter,  
That will speak any thing.  Kin. 
She hath that Ring of yours.  Ros. 
I think she has; certain it is I liked her,  
And boarded her i' th' wanton way of youth:  
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,  
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,  
As all impediments in fancies course  
Are motives of more fancy, and in fine,  
Her insuite coming 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.  Dia. 
I must be patiented:  
You that have turned 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.  Ros. 
I have it not.  Kin. 
What Ring was yours I pray you?  Dian. 
Sir much like the same upon your finger.  Kin. 
Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late.  Dia. 
And this was it I gave him being a bed.  Kin. 
The story than goes false, you threw it him  
Out of a Casement.  Dia. 
I have spoke the truth.  Enter Parolles. Ros. 
My Lord, I do confess the ring was hers.  Kin. 
You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you:  
Is this the man you speak of?  Dia. 
I, my Lord.  Kin. 
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?  Par. 
So please your Majesty, my master hath been an honourable Gentleman. Tricks he hath had in him, which Gentlemen have.  Kin. 
Come, come, to ' th' purpose: Did he love this woman?  Par. 
Faith sir he did love her, but how.  Kin. 
How I pray you?  Par. 
He did love her sir, as a Gent. love's a Woman.  Kin. 
How is that?  Par. 
He loved her sir, and loved her not.  Kin. 
As thou art a knave and no knave, what an equivocal Companion is this?  Par. 
I am a poor man, and at your Majesty's command.  Laf. 
he's a good drum my Lord, but a naughty Orator.  Dian. 
Do you know he promised me marriage?  Par. 
Faith I know more than I'll speak.  Kin. 
But wilt thou not speak all thou knowst?  Par. 
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 known 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.  Kin. 
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.  Dia. 
I my good Lord.  Kin. 
Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you?  Dia. 
It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.  Kin. 
Who lent it you?  Dia. 
It was not lent me neither.  Kin. 
Where did you find it then?  Dia. 
I found it not.  Kin. 
If it were yours by none of all these ways,  
How could you give it him?  Dia. 
I never gave it him.  Laf. 
This woman's an easy glove my Lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.  Kin. 
This Ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.  Dia. 
It might be yours or hers for aught I know.  Kin. 
Take her away, I do not like her now,  
To prison with her: and away with him,  
Unless thou tellest me where thou hadst this Ring,  
Thou diest within this hour.  Dia. 
I'll never tell you.  Kin. 
Take her away.  Dia. 
I'll put in bail my liege.  Kin. 
I think thee now some common Customer.  Dia. 
By jove if ever I knew man 'twas you.  King. 
Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while.  Dia. 
Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty:  
He knows I am no Maid, and he'll swear too'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.  Kin. 
She does abuse our ears, to prison with her.  Dia. 
Good mother fetch my bail. Stay Royal sir,  
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 harmed 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.  Enter Helen and Widow. Kin. 
Is there no exorcist  
Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes?  
Is't real that I see?  Hel. 
No my good Lord,  
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,  
The name, and not the thing.  Ros. 
Both, both, O pardon.  Hel. 
Oh 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 is by me with child, etc. This is done,  
Will you be mine now you are doubly won?  Ros. 
If she my Liege can make me know this clearly,  
I'll love her dear, ever, ever dearly.  Hel. 
If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,  
Deadly divorce step between me and you.  
O my dear mother do I see you living?  Laf. 
Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weep anon:  
Good Tom Drum lend me a handkerchief.  
So I thank thee, wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones.  King 
Let us from point to point this story know,  
To make the even truth in pleasure flow:  
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 keptst a wife herself, thyself a Maid▪  
Of that and all the progress more and less,  
Resolduedly more leisure shall express:  
All yet seems well, and if it end so meet,  
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.  

Flourish.  
THe Kings 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 lends us, and take our hearts.   Exeunt omn.  
FINIS.   

Twelve Night, Or what you will.  

Actus Primus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords. Duke. 
IF Music be the food of Love, play on,  
Give me excess of it: that surfeiting,  
The appetite may sicken, and so dye.  
That strain again, it had a dying fall:  
O, it came over 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,  
Receives as the Sea. Nought enters there,  
Of what validity, and pitch so ere,  
But falls into abatement, and low price  
Even in a minute; so full of shapes is fancy,  
That it alone, is high fantastical.  Cu. 
Will you go hunt my Lord?  Du. 
What Curio?  Cu. 
The Hart.  Du. 
Why so I do, the Noblest that I have:  
O when mine eyes did see Olivia first,  
Me thought she purged the air of pestilence;  
That instant was I turned into a Hart,  
And my desires like fell and cruel hounds,  
Ere since pursue me. How now what news from her?  Enter Valentine. Val. 
So please my Lord, I might not be admitted,  
But from her handmaid do return this answer:  
The Element itself, till seven year's heat,  
Shall not behold her face at ample view:  
But like a Cloystresse she will veil 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.  Du. 
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 killed the flock of all affections else  
That live in her. When Liver, Brain, and Heart,  
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and filled  
Her sweet perfections with oneself king:  
Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowers,  
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopyed with bowers.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Viola, a Captain, and Saylors. Vio. 
What Country (Friends) is this?  Cap. 
This is Illyria Lady.  Vio. 
And what should I do in Illyria?  
My brother he is in Elysium,  
Perchance he is not drowned: What think you sailors?  Cap. 
It is perchance that you yourself were saved.  Vio. 
O my poor brother, and so perchance may he be.  Cap. 
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 practice)  
To a strong Mast, that lived upon the sea:  
Where like Orion on the Dolphines back,  
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,  
So long as I could see.  Ʋio. 
For saying so, there's Gold:  
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,  
Whereto thy speech serves for authority  
The like of him. knowst thou this Country?  Cap. 
I Madam well, for I was bred and borne  
Not three hours' travail from this very place:  Vio. 
Who governs here?  Cap. 
A noble Duke in nature, as in name.  Vio. 
What is his name?  Cap. 
Orsino.  Vio. 
Orsino: I have heard my father name him.  
He was a Bachelor then.  Cap. 
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.  Vio. 
What's she?  Cap. 
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 sight  
And company of men.  Vio. 
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.  Cap 
That were hard to compass,  
Because she will admit no kind of suit,  
No not the Dukes.  Vio. 
There is a fair behaviour 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 shalt 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.  Cap. 
Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute I'll be,  
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.  Ʋio. 
I thank thee: Led me on.  Exeunt  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Sir Toby, and Maria. Sir To. 
What a plague means my Niece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.  Mar. 
By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer a nights▪ your Cousin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.  To. 
Why let her except, before excepted.  Ma. 
I, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.  To. 
Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too: and they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.  Ma. 
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  To. 
Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?  Ma. 
I he.  To. 
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.  Ma. 
What's that to th' purpose?  To. 
Why he has three thousand ducats a year.  Ma. 
I, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: He's a very fool, and a prodigal.  To. 
Fie, that you'll say so: he plays o' th' Viol-de-ga●-boys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, & hath all the good gifts of nature.  Ma. 
He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarrel: 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.  Tob. 
By this hand they are scoundrels and substractor▪ that say so of him. Who are they?  Ma. 
They that add moreour, he's drunk nightly in your company.  To. 
With drinking healths to my Niece: I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drink in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coistrel that will not drink to my Niece▪ till his brains turn o' th' toe, like a parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.  Enter Sir Andrew. And. 
Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch?  To. 
Sweet sir Andrew.  And. 
Bless you fair Shrew.  Mar. 
And you too sir.  Tob. 
Accost Sir Andrew, accost.  And. 
What's that?  To. 
My Niece's Chambermaid.  Ma. 
Good Mistress accost, I desire better acquaintance  Ma. 
My name is Mary sir.  And. 
Good mistress Mary, accost.  To, 
You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.  And. 
By my troth I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of Accost?  Ma. 
Far you well Gentlemen.  To. 
And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.  And. 
And you part so mistress, I would I might never draw sword again: Fair Lady, do you think you have fools in hand?  Ma. 
Sir, I have not you by ' th' hand.  An. 
Marry but you shall have, and here's my hand.  Ma. 
Now sir▪ thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to ' th' Buttery bar, and let it drink.  An. 
Wherefore (sweetheart?) What's your Metaphor?  Ma. 
It's dry sir.  And. 
Why I think so: I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?  Ma. 
A dry jest Sir.  And. 
Are you full of them?  Ma. 
I Sir, I have them at my finger's ends: marry now I let go your hand, I am barren.  Exit Maria To. 
O knight, thou lackest a cup of Canary: when did I see thee so put down?  An. 
Never in your life I think, unless you see Canary put me down: me thinks 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.  To. 
No question.  An. 
And I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to morrow sir Toby.  To. 
Purquoy my dear knight?  An. 
What is purquoy? 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.  To. 
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.  An. 
Why, would that have mended my hair?  To. 
Past question, for thou seest it will not cool my nature  An 
But it becomes we well enough, dost not?  To. 
Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaff: & I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off.  An. 
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,  To. 
she'll none o' th' 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.  And. 
I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i' th' world: I delight in Masks and Revels sometimes altogether.  To. 
Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?  And. 
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with an old man.  To. 
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?  And. 
Faith, I can cut a caper.  To. 
And I can cut the Mutton too't.  And. 
And I think I have the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.  To. 
Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these gifts a Curtain before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistress Male picture? Why dost thou not go to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My very walk should be a jig: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-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.  And, 
I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a damned coloured stock. Shall we sit about some Revels?  To. 
What shall we do else: were we not borne under Taurus?  And. 
Taurus? That sides and heart.  To. 
No sir, it is legs and thighs: let me see thee caper. Ha', higher: ha', ha', excellent.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. Val. 
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.  Vio. 
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.  Val. 
No believe me.  Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Vio. 
I thank you: here comes the Count  Duke. 
Who saw Cesario hoa?  Vio. 
On your attendance my Lord here.  Du 
Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario,  
Thou know'st no less, but all: I have unclasped  
To thee the book even of my secret soul.  
Therefore good youth, address thy gate unto her,  
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,  
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow  
Till thou have audience.  Ʋio. 
Sure my Noble Lord,  
If she be so abandoned to her sorrow  
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.  Du, 
Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,  
Rather than make unprofited return,  Vio. 
Say I do speak with her (my Lord) what then?  Du. 
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,  
Then in a Nuntios of more grave aspect.  Vio. 
I think not so, my Lord.  Du. 
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.  Ʋio. 
I'll do my best  
To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife,  
Who ere I woe, myself would be his wife.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Maria, and Clown. Ma. 
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.  Clo. 
Let her hang me: he that is well hang'de in this world, needs to fear no colours.  Ma. 
Make that good.  Clo. 
He shall see none to fear.  Ma. 
A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was borne, of I fear no colours.  Clo. 
Where good mistress Mary?  Ma. 
In the wars, & that may you be bold to say in your foolery.  Clo. 
Well, God give them wisdom that have it: & those that are fools, let them use their talents.  Ma. 
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?  Clo. 
Many a good hanging, prevents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer bear it out.  Ma. 
You are resolute then?  Clo. 
Not so neither, but I am resolved on two points  Ma. 
That if one break, the other will hold: or if both break, your gaskins fall.  Clo. 
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.  Ma. 
Peace you rogue, no more o' that: here comes my Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.  Enter Lady Olivia, with Maluolio. Clo. 
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 jacke thee, may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus, Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit. God bless thee Lady.  Ol. 
Take the fool away.  Clo. 
Do you not hear fellows, take away the Lady.  Ol. 
Go too, ye are a dry fool: I'll no more of you: besides you grow dishonest.  Clo. 
Two faults Madonna, that drink & 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 Butcher 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 beauties a flower; The Lady bade take away the fool, therefore I say again, take her away.  Ol. 
Sir, I bade them take away you.  Clo. 
Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum: thats as much to say, as I wear not motley in my brain: good Madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.  Ol. 
Can you do it?  Clo. 
Dexteriously, good Madonna.  Ol. 
Make your proof.  Clo. 
I must catechise you for it Madonna, Good my Mouse of virtue answer me.  Ol. 
Well sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.  Clo. 
Good Madonna, why mournest thou?  Ol. 
Good fool, for my brother's death.  Clo. 
I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.  Ol. 
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.  Clo. 
The more fool (Madonna) to mourn for your Brother's soul, being in heaven. Take away the Fool, Gentlemen.  Ol. 
What think you of this fool Maluolio, doth he not mend?  Mal. 
Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.  Clow. 
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 Foole.  Ol. 
How say you to that Maluolio?  Mal. 
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 gauged. I protest I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fool's Zanies.  Ol. 
O you are ficke of self-love Maluolio, 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.  Clo. 
Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools.  Enter Maria. Mar. 
Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman, much desires to speak with you.  Ol. 
From the Count Orsino, is it?  Ma 
I know not (Madam) 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.  Ol. 
Who of my people hold him in delay▪  Ma. 
Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman.  Ol. 
Fetch him off I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a● suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home. What you will, to dismiss it.  Exit Maluo. 
Now you see sir, how your fooling grows old, & people dislike it.  Clo. 
Thou hast spoke for us (Madonna) as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose scull, jove cram with brains, for here he comes.  Enter Sir Toby. 
One of thy kin has a most weak Pia-mater.  Ol. 
By mine honour half drunk. What is he at the gate Cousin?  To. 
A Gentleman.  Ol. 
A Gentleman? What Gentleman?  To. 
'Tis a Gentleman here. A plague o' these pickle herring: How now Sot.  Clo. 
Good Sir Toby.  Ol. 
Cousin, Cousin, how have you come so early by this Lethargy?  To. 
Lechery, I defy Lechery: there's one at the gate.  Ol. 
I marry, what is he?  To. 
Let him be the devil and he will, I care not: give me faith say I. Well, it's all one.  Exit Ol. 
What's a drunken man like, fool?  Clo. 
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.  Ol. 
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.  Clo. 
He is but mad yet Madonna, and the fool shall look to the madman.  Enter Maluolio. Mal. 
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 fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him Lady, he's fortified against any denial.  Ol. 
Tell him, he shall not speak with me.  Mal. 
ha's 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.  Ol. 
What kind o' man is he?  Mal. 
Why of mankind.  Ol. 
What manner of man?  Mal. 
Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you, will you, or no.  Ol. 
Of what personage, and years is he?  Mal. 
Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy: as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a Coddling 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.  Ol. 
Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.  Mal. 
Gentlewoman, my Lady calls.  Exit. Enter Maria. Ol. 
Give me my veil: come throw it o'er my face,  
we'll once more hear Orsinos Embassy.  Enter Violenta. Vio. 
The honourable Lady of the house, which is she?  Ol. 
Speak to me, I shall answer for her: your will.  Ʋio. 
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.  Ol. 
Whence came you sir?  Vio. 
I can say little more than I have studied, & that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the Lady of the house, that may proceed in my speech.  Ol. 
Are you a Comedian?  Vio. 
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?  Ol. 
If I do not usurp myself, I am.  Ʋio. 
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.  Ol. 
Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.  Vio. 
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis Poetical.  Ol. 
It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, & allowed your approach rather to wonder at you, then 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.  Ma. 
Will you hoist sail sir, here lies your way.  Vio. 
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.  Ol. 
Sure you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.  Vio. 
It alone concerns your ear: I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.  Ol. 
Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?  Vio. 
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 others, profanation.  Ol. 
Give us the place alone,  
We will hear this divinity. Now sir, what is your text?  Vio. 
Most sweet Lady.  Ol. 
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your Text?  Vio. 
In Orsinoes' bosom.  Ol. 
In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?  Vio. 
To answer by the method in the first of his hart.  Ol. 
O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?  Vio. 
Good Madam, let me see your face.  Ol. 
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?  Ʋio. 
Excellently done, if God did all.  Ol. 
'Tis in grain sir, 'twill endure wind and weather.  Vio. 
'tis beauty truly blended, whose red and white,  
Natures own sweet, and cunning hand laid on:  
Lady, you are the cruelest she alive,  
If you will lead these graces to the grave,  
And leave the world no copy.  Ol. 
O sir, I will not be so hardhearted: I will give out diverse schedules of my beauty. It shallbe Inuentoried and every particle and utensile labeled to my will: As, Item two lips indifferent red, Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one neck, one chin, & so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?  Vio. 
I see you what you are, you are too proud:  
But if you were the devil, you are fair:  
My Lord, and master love's you: O such love  
Can be but recompensed, though you were crowned  
The non-pareil of beauty.  Ol. 
How does he love me?  Vio. 
With adorations, fertile tears,  
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.  Ol. 
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, learned, and valiant,  
And in dimension, and the shape of nature,  
A gracious person; But yet I cannot love him:  
He might have taken his answer long ago.  Vio. 
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.  Ol. 
Why, what would you?  Vio. 
Make me a willow Cabin at your gate,  
And call upon my soul within the house,  
Writ loyal Cantons of contemned love,  
And sing them loud even in the dead of night:  
Hollow 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.  Ol. 
You might do much:  
What is your Parentage?  Vio. 
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:  
I am a Gentleman.  Ol. 
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: Far you well:  
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.  Vio. 
I am no feed post, Lady; keep your purse,  
My Master, not myself, lacks recompense.  
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love,  
And let your fervour like my masters be,  
Placed in contempt: Farewell fair cruelty.  Exit Ol. 
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 fivefold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,  
Unless the Master were the man. How now?  
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?  
Me thinks I feel this youths perfections  
With an invisible, and subtle stealth  
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.  
What hoa, Maluolio.  Enter Maluolio. Mal. 
here Madam, at your service.  Ol. 
Run after that same peevish Messenger  
The Countess' 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 Maluolio.  Mal. 
Madam, I will.  Exit. Ol. 
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.   
Finis, Actus primus.   

Actus Secundus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Antonio & Sebastian. Ant. 
Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that I go with you.  Seb. 
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.  An. 
Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.  Seb. 
No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is mere extravagancie. 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 Rodorigo) my father was that Sebastian of Messalina, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him, myself, and a sister, both borne 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.  Ant. 
Alas the day.  Seb. 
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 over-farre believe that, yet thus fare 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.  Ant. 
Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment.  Seb. 
O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.  Ant. 
If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.  Seb. 
If you will not undo what you have done, that is kill him, whom you have recovered, desire it not. Far 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 Ant. 
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.  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Viola and Maluolio, at several doors. Mal. 
Were not you even now, with the Countess Olivia?  Vio. 
Even now sir, on a moderate pace, I have since arrived but hither.  Mal. 
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: o come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your Lords taking of this: receive it so.  Vio. 
She took the Ring of me, I'll none of it.  Mal. 
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. Vio. 
I left no Ring with her: what means this Lady?  
Fortune forbidden my outside have not charmed her:  
She made good view of me, indeed so much,  
That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue,  
For she did speak in starts distractedly.  
She love's 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 waxed hearts to set their forms:  
Alas, O frailty is the cause, not we,  
For such as we are made, if such we be:  
How will this fadge? My master love's 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 breath?  
O time, thou must untangle this, not I,  
It is too hard a knot for me t'vnty.   

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. To. 
Approach Sir Andrew: not to be a bed after midnight, is to be up betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou knowst.  And. 
Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.  To. 
A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfilled 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 lives consist of the four Elements?  And. 
Faith so they say, but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.  To. 
The art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink Marian I say, a stoop of wine.  Enter Clown. And. 
here comes the fool i'faith.  Clo. 
How now my hearts: Did you never see the Picture of we three?  To. 
Welcome ass, now let's have a catch.  And. 
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. Insooth thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good i'faith: I sent thee six pence for thy Lemon, hadst it?  Clo. 
I did impeticos thy gratility: for Maluolios' nose is no Whipstock. My Lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.  An. 
Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now a song.  To. 
Come on, there is six pence for you. Let's have a song.  An. 
There's a testrill of me too: if one knight give a  Clo. 
Would you have a lovesong, or a song of good life?  To. 
A love song, a love song.  An. 
I, I. I care not for good life.  Clown sings. 
O Mistress mine where are you roaming?  
O stay and hear, your true loves coming,  
That can sing both high and low.  
Trip no further pretty sweeting.  
journeys end in lover's meeting,  
Every wise man's son doth know.  An. 
Excellent good, i'faith.  To. 
Good, good.  Clo. 
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:  
Youths a stuff will not endure.  An. 
A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.  To. 
A contagious breath.  An. 
Very sweet, and contagious i'faith.  To. 
To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-Owle in a Catch, that will draw three souls out of one Weaver? Shall we do that?  And. 
And you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a Catch.  Clo. 
Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well.  An. 
Most certain: Let our Catch be, Thou Knave.  Clo. 
Hold thy peace, thou Knave knight. I shall be constrained in't, to call thee knave, Knight.  An. 
'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin fool: it gins, Hold thy peace.  Clo. 
I shall never begin if I hold my peace.  An. 
Good i'faith: Come begin.  Catch sung Enter Maria. Mar. 
What a caterwauling do you keep here? If my Lady have not called up her Steward Maluolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.  To, 
My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios a Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be we. Am not I consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly valley. Lady, There dwelled a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.  Clo. 
Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling.  An. 
I, 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.  To. 
O the twelfe day of December.  Mar. 
For the love o' God peace.  Enter Maluolio. Mal. 
My masters are you mad? Or what are you? Have you 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?  To. 
We did keep time sir in our Catches. Snecke up.  Mal. 
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 misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.  To. 
Farewell dear heart, since I must needs be gone.  Mar. 
Nay good Sir Toby.  Clo. 
His eyes do show his days are almost done.  Mal. 
Is't even so?  To. 
But I will never dye.  Clo. 
Sir Toby there you lie.  Mal. 
This is much credit to you.  To. 
Shall I bid him go.  Clo. 
What and if you do?  To. 
Shall I bid him go, and spare not?  Clo. 
O no, no, no, no, you dare not.  To. 
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?  Clo. 
Yes by S. Anne, and Ginger shall be hot ye th' mouth too.  To. 
Th' art i' th' right. Go sir, rub your Chain with crumbs. A stoup of Wine Maria.  Mal. 
Mistress Mary, if you prized my Lady's savour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; the shall know of it by this hand.  Exit Mar. 
Go shake your ears.  An. 
'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.  To. 
Do't knight, I'll write thee a Challenge: or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.  Mar. 
Sweet Sir Toby be patiented for to night: Since the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into an ayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie strait in my bed: I know I can do it.  To. 
Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.  Mar. 
Marry sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.  An. 
O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog.  To. 
What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, dear knight.  An. 
I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough.  Mar. 
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.  To. 
What wilt thou do?  Mar. 
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 gate, 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.  To. 
Excellent, I smell a device.  An. 
I have't in my nose too.  To. 
He shall think by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my Niece, and that she's in love with him.  Mar. 
My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.  An. 
And your horse now would make him an Ass.  Mar. 
Ass, I doubt not.  An. 
O 'twill be admirable.  Mar. 
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 To. 
Good night Penthesilea.  An. 
Before me she's a good wench.  To. 
She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me: what o' that?  An. 
I was adored once too.  To. 
Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst need send for more money.  An. 
If I cannot recover your Niece, I am a foul way out.  To. 
Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i' th' end, call me Cut.  An. 
If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.  To. 
Come, come, I'll go burn some Sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Du. 
Give me some Music; Now good morrow friends.  
Now good Cesario, but that piece of song,  
That old and Antic 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.  Cur. 
He is not here (so please your Lordship) that should sing it?  Du. 
Who was it?  Cur. 
Fest● the lester my Lord, a fool that the Lady Oliviaes' Father took much delight in. He is about the house.  Du. 
Seek him out, and play the tune the while.  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?  Vio. 
It gives a very echo to the seat  
Where love is throned.  Du. 
Thou dost speak masterly,  
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye  
Hath stayed upon some favour that it love's:  
Hath it not boy?  Vio. 
A little, by your favour.  Du. 
What kind of woman is't?  Ʋio. 
Of your complexion.  Du. 
She is not worth thee then. What years i'faith?  Vio. 
About your years my Lord.  Du. 
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 our seives,  
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirme,  
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,  
Than women's are.  Ʋio. 
I think it well my Lord.  Du. 
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 displayed, doth fall that very hour.  Vio. 
And so they are: alas, that they are so:  
To die, even when they to perfection grow.  Enter Curio & Clowne. Du. 
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 wove their thread with bones,  
Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,  
And dallies with the innocence of love,  
Like the old age.  Clo. 
Are you ready Sir?  Duke. 
I prithee sing.  Music. 

The Song.  

Come away, come away death,  
And in sad cypress let me be laid.  
Fie away, fie away breath,  
I am slain by a fair cruel maid:  
My shroud of white, stuck all with Ewe, 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 strewne:  
Not a friend, not a friend greet  
My poor corpses, 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.    Du. 
There's for thy pains.  Clo. 
No pains sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.  Du. 
I'll pay thy pleasure then.  Clo. 
Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid one time, or another.  Du. 
Give me now leave, to leave thee.  Clo. 
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 Du. 
Let all the rest give place: 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 bestowed 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.  Vio. 
But if she cannot love you sir.  Du. 
It cannot be so answered.  Vio. 
Sooth but you must.  
Say that some Lady, as perhaps there is,  
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart  
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her:  
You tell her so: Must she not then be answered?  Du. 
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 called 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 own Olivia.  Ʋio. 
I but I know.  Du. 
What dost thou know?  Ʋio. 
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.  Du. 
And what's her history?  Vio. 
A blank my Lord: she never told her love,  
But let concealment like a worm i' th' 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.  Du. 
But died thy sister of her love my Boy?  Vio. 
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?  Du. 
I that's the Theme,  
To her in haste: give her this jewel: say,  
My love can give no place, bide no denay.  exeunt  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. To. 
Come thy ways Signior Fabian.  Fab. 
Nay I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with Melancholy.  To. 
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly Rascally sheep-biter, come by some notable shame?  Fa. 
I would exult man: you know he brought me out o' favour with my Lady, about a Bearbaiting here.  To. 
To anger him we'll have the Bear again, and we will fool him black and blue, shall we not sir Andrew?  An. 
And we do not, it is pity of our lives.  Enter Maria. To. 
here comes the little villain: How now my Mettle of India?  Mar. 
Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's coming down this walk, he has been yonder i' the Sun practising behaviour 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: for here comes the Trout, that must be caught with tickling.  Exit Enter Maluolio. Mal. 
'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?  To. 
here's an overweening rogue.  Fa. 
Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey Cock of him, how he jets under his advanced plumes.  And. 
'Slight I could so beat the Rogue.  To. 
Peace I say.  Mal. 
To be Count Maluolio.  To. 
Ah Rogue.  An. 
Pistol him, pistol him.  To. 
Peace, peace.  Mal. 
There is example for't: The Lady of the Strachy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe.  An. 
Fie on him jezabel.  Fa. 
O peace, now he's deeply in: look how imagination blows him.  Mal. 
Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state.  To. 
O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye.  Mal. 
Calling my Officers about me, in my branched Velvet gown: having come from a day bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping.  To. 
Fire and Brimstone.  Fa. 
O peace, peace.  Mal. 
And then to have the humour of state: and after a demure travail of regard: telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs: to ask for my kinsman Toby.  To. 
Bolts and shackles.  Fa. 
Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.  Mal. 
Seven of my people with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while, and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my some rich jewel: Toby approaches; curtsies there to me.  To. 
Shall this fellow live?  Fa. 
Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.  Mal. 
I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control.  To. 
And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips, then?  Mal. 
Saying, Cousin Toby, my Fortunes having cast me on your Niece, give me this prerogative of speech.  To. 
What, what?  Mal. 
You must amend your drunkenness.  To. 
Out scab.  Fab. 
Nay patience, or we break the sinews of our plot?  Mal. 
Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish knight.  And. 
That's me I warrant you.  Mal. 
One sir Andrew.  And. 
I knew 'twas I, for many do call me fool.  Mal. 
What employment have we here?  Fa. 
Now is the Woodcock near the gin.  To. 
Oh peace, and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him.  Mal. 
By my life this is my Lady's hand: these be her very Cs▪ her V's, and her 't's, and thus makes she haet great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand.  An. 
Her C's, her V's, and her 't's: why that?  Mal. 
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?  Fab. 
This wins him, Liver and all.  Mal. 
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 Maluolio?  To. 
Marry hang thee brock.  Mal. 
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.  Fa. 
A fustian riddle.  To. 
Excellent Wench, say I.  Mal. 
M.O.A.I. doth sway my life. Nay but first let me see, let me see, let me see.  Fab. 
What dish a poison has she dressed him?  To. 
And with what wing the stallion checks at it?  Mal. 
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.  To 
O I, make up that, he is now at a cold sent.  Fab. 
Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as rank as a Fox.  Mal. 
M. Maluolio, M. why that gins my name.  Fab. 
Did not I say he would work it out, the Cur is excellent at faults.  Mal. 
M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequel that suffers under probation: A. should follow, but O. does.  Fa. 
And O shall end, I hope.  To. 
I, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O.  Mal. 
And then I. comes behind.  Fa. 
I, and you had any eye behind you, you● might see more detraction at your heels, than Fortunes before you.  Mal. 
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: If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness: Some are become great, some atcheeves greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to enure 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 advices thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross gartered: I say remember, go too, thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune's singers Farewell, She that would alter services with thee, that fortunate unhappy daylight and champain discovers not more: This is open, I will be proud, I will read pollticke Authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point device, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my Lady love's 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, & 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. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my love, let it appear in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, deero my sweet, I prithee. jove I thank thee, I will smile, I will do every thing that thou wilt have me.  Exit Fab. 
I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.  To. 
I could marry this wench for this device.  An. 
So could I too.  To. 
And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest.  Enter Maria. An. 
Nor I neither.  Fab. 
here comes my noble gull catcher.  To. 
Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck.  An. 
Or o' mine either?  To. 
Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bondslave?  An. 
I'faith, or I either?  Tob. 
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.  Ma. 
Nay but say true, does it work upon him?  To. 
Like Aqua vite with a Midwife.  Mar. 
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.  To. 
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit.  And. 
I'll make one too.  Exeunt. Finis Actus secundus   

Actus Tertius,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Viola and Clowne. Vio. 
Save thee Friend and thy Music: dost thou live by thy Tabor?  Clo. 
No sir, I live by the Church.  Vio. 
Art thou a Churchman?  Clo. 
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  Vio. 
So thou mayst say the Kings lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.  Clo. 
You have said sir: To see this age: A sentence is but a chevril glove to a good wit, how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward.  Vio. 
Nay that's certain: they that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.  Clo. 
I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir.  Vio. 
Why man?  Clo. 
Why sir, her names a word, and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeed, words are very Rascals, since bonds disgraced them.  Vio. 
Thy reason man?  Clo. 
Troth sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.  Vio. 
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.  Clo. 
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.  Ʋio. 
Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's fool?  Clo. 
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 Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husbands the bigger, I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.  Vio. 
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.  Clo. 
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.  Vio. 
Nay, and thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold there's expenses for thee.  Clo. 
Now jove in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard.  Vi●▪ 
By my troth I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy Lady within?  Clo 
Would not a pair of these have bred sir?  Vio. 
Yes being kept together, and put to use.  Clo. 
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.  Vio. 
I understand you sir, 'tis well begged.  Clo. 
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 overworn.  exit Vio. 
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, check at every Feather  
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,  
As full of labour as a Wiseman's Art:  
For folly that he wisely shows, is fit;  
But wiseman's folly fall'n, quite taint their wit.  Enter Sir Toby and Andrew. To. 
Save you Gentleman.  Ʋio. 
And you sir.  And. 
Dieu vou guard Monsieur.  Vio. 
Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture.  An. 
I hope sir, you are, and I am yours.  To. 
Will you encounter the house, my Niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.  Vio. 
I am bound to your Niece sir, I mean she is the list of my voyage.  To. 
Taste your legs sir, put them to motion.  Vio. 
My legs do better understand me sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.  To. 
I mean to go sir, to enter.  Vio. 
I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we are prevented.  Enter Olivia, and Gentlewoman. 
Most excellent accomplished Lady, the heaven's rain Odours on you.  And. 
That youth's a rare Courtier, rain odours, well.  Vio. 
My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.  And. 
Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: I'll get 'em all three already.  Ol. 
Let the Garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. Give me your hand sir.  Ʋio. 
My duty Madam, and most humble seruices  Ol. 
What is your name?  Vio. 
Cesario is your servant's name, fair Princess.  Ol. 
My servant sir? 'Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was called compliment: ye are servant to the Count Orsino youth.  Vio. 
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: your servant's servant, is your servant Madam.  Ol. 
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,  
Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me.  Vio. 
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts  
On his behalf.  Ol. 
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,  
Then Music from the spheres.  Vio. 
Dear Lady.  Ol. 
Give me leave, beseech you: I did send,  
After the last enchantment you did hear,  
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 th' unmuzled thoughts  
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving  
Enough is shown, a Cypress, not a bosom,  
Hides my heart: so let me hear you speak.  Vio. 
I pity you.  Ol. 
That's a degree to love.  Vio. 
No not a grize: for 'tis a vulgar proof  
That very oft we pity enemies.  Ol. 
Why then me thinks '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 wife is like to reap a proper man:  
There lies your way, due West.  Vio. 
Then Westward ho:  
Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship:  
you'll nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:  Ol. 
Stay: I prithee tell me what thou thinkest of me?  Vio. 
That you do think you are not what you are.  Ol. 
If I think so, I think the same of you.  Ʋio. 
Then think you right: I am not what I am.  Ol. 
I would you were, as I would have you be.  Vio. 
Would it be better Madam, than I am?  
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.  Ol. 
O what a deal of scorn, looks beautiful?  
In the contempt and anger of his lip,  
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon,  
Then love that would seem hid: Love's night, is noon.  
Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring,  
By maid-hood, 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 woe, thou therefore hast no cause:  
But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;  
Love sought, is good: but given unsought, is better.  Ʋio. 
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.  Ol. 
Yet come again: for thou perhaps mayst move  
That heart which now abhors, to like his love.  Exeunt  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. And. 
No faith, I'll not stay a jot longer:  To. 
Thy reason dear venom, give thy reason.  Fab. 
You must needes yield your reason, Sir Andrew?  And. 
Marry I saw your Niece do more favours to the Count's Servingman, than ever she bestowed upon me: I saw't i' th' Orchard.  To. 
Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that.  And. 
As plain as I see you now.  Fab. 
This was a great argument of love in her toward you.  And. 
'Slight; will you make an Ass o'me.  Fab. 
I will prove it legitimate sir, upon the Oaths of judgement, and reason.  To. 
And they have been grand jury men, since before Noah was a Sailor.  Fab. 
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, firenew from the mint, you should have bangd 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 ysickle on a Dutchmans' beard, unless you do redeem it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policy.  And. 
an't be any way, it must be with Valour, for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist, as a Politician.  To. 
Why then build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Count's youth to sight 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, then report of valour.  Fab. 
There is no way but this sir Andrew.  An. 
Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?  To 
●o, writ it in a martial hand, be cursed and brief: it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt hi● 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 gaulle enough in thy ink, though thou writ with a Goo●e-pen, no matter: about it.  And. 
Where shall I find you?  To. 
we'll call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.  Exit Sir Andrew. Fa. 
This is a dear Manakin to you Sir Toby.  To. 
I have been dear to him lad, some two thousand strong, or so.  Fa. 
We shall have a rare Letter from him; but you'll not delivered.  To. 
Never trust me then: and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think Oxen and waine-ropes 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 th' anatomy.  Fab. 
And his opposite the youth bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.  Enter Maria. To. 
Look where the youngest Wren of mine comes.  Mar. 
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned Heathen, a very Renegatho; 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.  To. 
And cross gartered?  Mar. 
Most villainously: like a Pedant that keeps a School i' th' 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, then 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.  To. 
Come bring us, bring us where he is.  Exeunt Omnes.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Sebastian and Anthonio. Seb. 
I would not by my will have troubled you,  
But since you make your pleasure of your pains,  
I will no further chide you.  Ant. 
I could not stay behind you: my desire  
(More sharp than filled 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 rravell,  
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.  Seb. 
My kind Anthonio,  
I can no other answer make, but thankes,  
And thankes: and ever oft good turns,  
Are shuffled off with such uncurrant pay:  
But were my worth, as is my conscience firm,  
You should find better dealing: what's to do?  
Shall we go see the relics of this Town?  Ant. 
To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?  Seb. 
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night  
I pray you let us satisfy our eyes  
With the memorial, and the things of fame  
That do renown this City.  Ant. 
Would you'd 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 answered.  Seb. 
Belike you slew great number of his people.  Ant. 
Th' 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 answered in repaying  
What we took from them, which for Traffics sake  
Most of our City did. Only myself stood out,  
For which if I be lapsed in this place  
I shall pay dear.  Seb. 
Do not then walk too open.  Ant. 
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.  Seb. 
Why I your purse?  Ant. 
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy  
You have desire to purchase: and your store  
I think is not for idle Markets, sir.  Seb. 
I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you  
For an hour.  Ant. 
To th' Elephant.  Seb. 
I do remember.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter Olivia and Maria. Ol. 
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, then begged, or borrowed.  
I speak too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and civil,  
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes,  
Where is Maluolio?  Mar. 
He's coming Madame:  
But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed Madam.  Ol. 
Why what's the matter, does he rave?  Mar. 
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.  Ol. 
Go call him hither.  Enter Maluolio. 
I am as mad as he,  
If sad and merry madness equal be.  
How now Maluolio?  Mal. 
Sweet Lady, ho, ho.  Ol. 
Smil'st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.  Mal. 
Sad Lady, I could be sad:  
This does make some obstruction in the blood:  
This crosse-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.  Mal. 
Why how dost thou man?  
What is the matter with thee?  Mal. 
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.  Ol. 
Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?  Mal. 
To bed? I sweet heart, and I'll come to thee.  Ol. 
God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?  Mar. 
How do you Maluolio?  Maluo. 
At your request:  
Yes Nightingales answer Daws.  Mar. 
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my Lady.  Mal. 
Be not afraid of greatness: 'twas well writ.  Ol. 
What meanest thou by that Maluolio?  Mal. 
Some are borne great.  Ol. 
Ha'?  Mal. 
Some atcheeve greatness.  Ol. 
What sayest thou?  Mal. 
And some have greatness thrust upon them.  Ol. 
Heaven restore thee.  Mal. 
Remember who commended thy yellow stockings.  Ol. 
Thy yellow stockings?  Mal. 
And wished to see thee cross gartered.  Ol. 
Cross gartered?  Mal. 
Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so.  Ol. 
Am I made?  Mal. 
If not, let me see thee a servant still.  Ol. 
Why this is very Midsummer madness.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count Orsino's is returned, I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your Ladyship's pleasure.  Ol. 
I'll come to him.  
Good Maria, let this fellow be looked too. 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.  exit Mal. 
Oh ho, do you come near me now: no worse man than sir Toby to look to me. This concurres 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 langer 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 too: Fellow? not Maluolio, 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.  Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria. To. 
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.  Fab. 
here he is, here he is: how is't with you sir?  
How is't with you man?  Mal. 
Go off, I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go off.  Mar. 
Lo, how hollow the s●end speaks within him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prays you to have a care of him.  Mal. 
Ah ha', does she so?  To. 
Go too, go too: peace, peace, we must deal gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How is't with you? What man, defy the devil: consider, he's an enemy to mankind.  Mal. 
Do you know what you say?  Mar. 
La you, and you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart Pray God he be not bewitched.  Fab. 
Carry his water to th' wise woman.  Mar. 
Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I live. My Lady would not lose him for more than i'll say.  Mal. 
How now mistress?  Mar. 
Oh Lord.  To. 
Prithee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Do you not see you move him? Let me alone with him.  Fa. 
No way but gentleness, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.  To. 
Why how now my bawcock? how dost thou chuck?  Mal. 
Sir.  To. 
I biddy, come with me. What man, 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry pit with sathan Hang him foul Collier.  Mar. 
Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby get him to pray.  Mal. 
My prayers Minx.  Mar. 
No I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.  Mal. 
Go hang yourselves all: you are idle shallow things, I am not of your element, you shall know more hereafter.  Exit To. 
Is't possible?  Fa. 
If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.  To 
His very genius hath taken the infection of the device man.  Mar. 
Nay pursue him now, lest the device take air, and taint.  Fa. 
Why we shall make him mad indeed.  Mar. 
The house will be the quieter.  To. 
Come, we'll have him in a dark room & 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. Fa. 
More matter for a May morning.  An. 
here's the Challenge, read it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.  Fab. 
Is't so saucy?  And. 
I, is't? I warrant him: do but read.  To. 
Give me.  
Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.  Fa. 
Good, and valiant.  To. 
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.  Fa. 
A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the Law  To. 
Thou com'st 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.  Fa. 
Very brief, and to exceeding good senseless.  To. 
I will waylay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me.  Fa. 
Good.  To. 
Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.  Fa. 
Still you keep o' th' windy side of the Law: good.  Tob. 
Fartheewell, 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, & thy sworn enemy, Andrew Ague-cheeke.  To. 
If this Letter move him not, his legs cannot:  
I'll give't him.  Mar. 
You may have very sit occasion foted: he is now in some commerce with my Lady, and will by and by departed.  To. 
Go sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bumbaylie: so soon as ever thou seest him, draw, and as thou drawest, swear horrible: for ●t 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.  And. 
Nay let me alone for swearing.  Exit To. 
Now will not I deliver his Letter: for the behaviour 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 Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliver his Challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheeke 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.  Enter Olivia and Viola. Fab. 
here he comes with your Niece, give them way till he take leave, and presently after him.  To 
I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a Challenge.  Ol. 
I have said too much unto a hart of stone,  
And laid mine honour too unchary on't:  
There's something in me that reproves my fault:  
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,  
That it but mocks reproof.  Vio. 
With the same behaviour that your passion bears,  
Goes on my Master's griefs.  Ol. 
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 ask give.  Ʋio. 
Nothing but this, your true love for my master.  Ol. 
How with mine honour may I give him that,  
Which I have given to you.  Ʋio 
I will acquit you.  Ol. 
Well▪ come again to morrow: faretheewell,  
A Fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.  Enter Toby and Fabian. To. 
Gentleman, God save thee.  Vio. 
And you sir.  To. 
That defence thou hast, betake the too'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 you're in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.  Vio. 
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.  To. 
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.  Vio. 
I pray you sir what is he?  To. 
He is knight dubbed with vnhatched 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.  Vio. 
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.  To. 
Sir, no: his indignation derives itself out of a very computent 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.  Vio. 
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.  To. 
I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this Gentleman, till my return.  Exit Toby. Vio. 
Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?  Fab. 
I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.  Vio. 
I beseech you what manner of man is he?  Fab. 
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, & 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.  Vio. 
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. Enter Toby and Andrew. To. 
Why man hee●s a very devil, I have not seen such a virago: 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 hits the ground they step on. They say, he has been Fencer to the Sophy.  And. 
Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.  To. 
I but he will not now be pacified,  
Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.  An. 
Plague on't, and I thought he had been vallant, and so cunning in Fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.  To. 
I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show on't, this shall end without the perdition of souls, marry I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.  Enter Fabian and Viola. 
I have his horse to take up the quarrel, I have persuaded him the youths a devil.  Fa. 
He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & looks pale, as if a Bear were at his heels.  To. 
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.  Vio. 
Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.  Fab. 
Give ground if you see him furious.  To. 
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, too't.  And. 
Pray God he keep his oath.  Enter Antonio. Vio. 
I do assure you 'tis against my will.  Ant. 
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.  To. 
You sir? Why, what are you?  Ant. 
One sir, that for his love dares yet do more  
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.  To. 
Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.  Enter Officers. Fab. 
O good sir Toby hold: here come the Officers.  To. 
I'll be with you anon.  Vio. 
Pray sir, put your sword up if you please.  And. 
Marry will I sir: and for that I promised you I'll be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and rain well.  1. Off. 
This is the man, do thy Office.  2 Off. 
Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino  An. 
You do mistake me sir.  1. Off. 
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.  Ant. 
I must obey. 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.  2 Off. 
Come sir away.  Ant. 
I must entreat of you some of that money.  Vio. 
What money sir?  
For the fair kindness you have showed 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.  Ant. 
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.  Vio. 
I know of none,  
Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:  
I hate ingratitude more in a man,  
Then lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness,  
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption  
Inhabits our frail blood.  Ant. 
Oh heavens themselves.  2. Off. 
Come sir, I pray you go.  Ant. 
Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here,  
I snatched one half out of the jaws of death,  
Relieved him with such sanctity of jove;  
And to his image, which me thought did promise  
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.  1. Off. 
What's that to us, the time goes by: Away.  Ant. 
But oh, how vild an idol proves this God:  
Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame.  
In Nature, there's no blemish but the mind:  
None can be called deformed, but the unkind.  
Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil  
Are empty trunks, ore-flourished by the devil.  1. Off. 
The man grows mad, away with him:  
Come, come sir.  Ant. 
Lead me on.  Exit Vio. 
Me thinks his words do from such passion fly  
That he believes himself, so do not I:  
Prove true imagination, oh prove true,  
That I dear brother, be now ta'en for you.  To. 
Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: we'll whisper over a couplet or two of most sage saws.  Vio. 
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: Oh if it prove,  
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love.  To. 
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appears, in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship ask Fabian.  Fab. 
A Coward, a most devout Coward, religious in it.  And, 
'Slid I'll after him again, and beat him.  To. 
Do, cuff him sound, but never draw thy sword  And. 
And I do not.  Fab. 
Come, let's see the event.  To. 
I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet.  Exit   

Actus Quartus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Sebastian and Clowne. Clo. 
Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you?  Seb. 
Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow,  
Let me be clear of thee.  Clo. 
Well held our 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.  Seb. 
I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else, thou knowst not me.  Clo. 
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?  Seb. 
I prithee foolish greek depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.  Clo. 
By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen that give fools money, get themselves a good report, after fourteen year's purchase.  Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian. And. 
Now sir, have I met you again: there's for you.  Seb. 
Why there's for thee, and there, and there,  
Are all the people mad?  To 
Hold sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.  Clo. 
This will I tell my Lady strait, I would not be in some of your coats for two pence.  To. 
Come on sir, hold.  An. 
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.  Seb. 
Let go thy hand.  To. 
Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my young soldier put up your iron: you are well fleshed: Come on.  Seb. 
I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?  
If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.  To. 
What, what? Nay then I must have an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.  Enter Olivia. Ol. 
Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold.  To. 
Madam.  Ol. 
Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,  
Fit for the Mountains, and the barbarous Caves,  
Where manners ne'er were preached: out of my sight.  
Be not offended, dear Cesario:  
Rudesbey be gone. I prithee gentle friend,  
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion sway  
In this uncivil, and unjust extent  
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,  
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks  
This Ruffian hath botched 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.  Seb. 
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 sleep,  
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep.  Ol. 
Nay come I prithee, would thou'dst be ruled by me  Seb. 
Madam, I will.  Ol. 
O say so, and so be.  Exeunt  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Maria and Clowne. Mar. 
Nay, I prithee put on this gown, & this beard, make him believe thou art sir Topas the Curate, do it quickly. I'll call sir Toby the whilst.  Clo. 
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, & a great scholar. The Competitors enter.  Enter Toby. To. 
jove bless thee M. Parson.  Clo. 
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 Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M. Parson, am M. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?  To. 
To him ●r Topas.  Clow. 
What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison.  To. 
The knave counterfeits well: a good knave.  Maluolio within. Mal. 
Who calls there?  Clo. 
Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio the Lunatic.  Mal. 
Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas go to my Lady.  Clo. 
Out hyperbolical fiend, how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?  Tob. 
Well said M. Parson.  Mal. 
Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged, good sir Topas do not think I am mad: they have laid me here in hideous darkness.  Clo. 
Fie, thou dishonest sathan: 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?  Mal. 
As hell sir Topas.  Clo. 
Why it hath bay Windows transparent as baricadoes, and the clear stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction?  Mal. 
I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is dark.  Clo. 
Madman thou errest: I say there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzeled than the Egyptians in their fog.  Mal. 
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.  Clo. 
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning Wildfowl?  Mal. 
That the soul of our grandam, might happily inhabit a bird.  Clo. 
What thinkest thou of his opinion?  Mal. 
I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.  Clo. 
Far thee well: remain thou still in darkness, thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a Woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Far thee well.  Mal. 
Sir Topas, sir Topas.  Tob. 
My most exquisite sir Topas.  Clo. 
Nay I am for all waters.  Mar. 
Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown, he sees thee not.  To. 
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 fare in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the uppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.  Exit Clo. 
hay Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does.  Mal. 
Foole.  Clo. 
My Lady is unkind, perdie.  Mal. 
Foole.  Clo. 
Alas why is she so?  Mal. 
Fool, I say.  Clo. 
She love's another. Who calls, ha'?  Mal. 
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.  Clo. 
M. Maluolio?  Mal. 
I good Foole.  Clo. 
Alas sir, how fell you besides your five wits?  Mall. 
Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits (fool) as thou art.  Clo. 
But as well: than you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits then a fool.  Mal. 
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.  Clo. 
Advise you what you say: the Minister is here. Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wits the heavens restore: endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.  Mal. 
Sir Topas.  Clo. 
Maintain no words with him good fellow.  
Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry Amen. I will sir, I will.  Mal. 
Fool, fool, fool I say.  Clo. 
Alas sir be patiented. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you.  Mal. 
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.  Clo. 
Welladay, that you were sir.  Mal. 
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.  Clo. 
I will help you too't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit.  Mal. 
Believe me I am not, I tell thee true.  Clo. 
Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains  
I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.  Mal. 
Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree:  
I prithee be gone.  Clo. 
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, pair thy nails dad,  
Adieu good man devil.  Exit  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter 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 Anthonio 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 council 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 fare 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 Ladies 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 deceivable. But here the Lady comes.  Enter Olivia, and Priest. Ol. 
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?  Seb. 
I'll follow this good man, and go with you,  
And having sworn truth, ever will be true.  Ol. 
Then lead the way good father, & heavens so shine,  
That they may fairly note this act of mine.  Exeunt.  
Finis Actus Quartus.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Clowne and Fabian. Fab. 
Now as thou lov'st me, let me see his Letter.  Clo. 
Good M. Fabian, grant me another request.  Fab. 
Any thing.  Clo. 
Do not desire to see this Letter.  Fab. 
This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.  Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords. Duke. 
Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?  Clo. 
I sir, we are some of her trappings.  Duke. 
I know thee well: how dost thou my good Fellow?  Clo. 
Truly sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.  Du. 
Just the contrary: the better for thy friends.  Clo. 
No sir, the worse.  Du. 
How can that be?  Clo. 
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 foe's 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.  Du. 
Why this is excellent.  Clo. 
By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends.  Du. 
Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold.  Clo. 
But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make it another.  Du. 
O you give me ill counsel.  Clo. 
Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.  Du. 
Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer: there's another.  Clo. 
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 S. Bennet sir, may put you in mind, one, two, three.  Du. 
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.  Clo. 
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 Enter Anthonio and Officers. Vio. 
Here comes the man sir, that did rescue me.  Du. 
That face of his I do remember well,  
yet when I saw it last, it was besmeared  
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 scathfull 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?  1 Offi. 
Orsino, this is that Anthonio  
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.  Ʋio. 
He did me kindness sir, drew on my side,  
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me,  
I know not what 'twas, but distraction.  Du. 
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?  Ant. 
Orsino: Noble sir,  
Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me:  
Anthonio 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 seas enraged and foamy mouth  
Did I redeem: a wrack 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.  Vio. 
How can this be?  Du. 
When came he to this Town?  Ant. 
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. Du. 
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.  Ol. 
What would my Lord, but that he may not have,  
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?  
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.  Vio. 
Madam:  Du. 
Gracious Olivia.  Ol. 
What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord.  Ʋio. 
My Lord would speak, my duty hushes me.  Ol. 
If it be aught to the old tune my Lord,  
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear  
As howling after Music.  Du. 
Still so cruel?  Ol. 
Still so constant Lord.  Du. 
What to perverseness? you uncivil Lady  
To whose ingrate, and unauspicious Altars  
My soul the faithfullest offerings have breathed out  
That ere devotion tendered. What shall I do?  Ol 
Even what it please my Lord, that shall become him  Du. 
Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it)  
Like to th' Egyptian thief, at point of death  
Kill what I love: (a savage jealousy,  
That sometime 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.  Ʋio. 
And I most jocund, apt, and willingly,  
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye.  Ol. 
Where goes Cesario?  Vio. 
After him I love,  
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,  
More by all moor, then ere I shall love wife.  
If I do feign, you witnesss above  
Punish my life, for tainting of my love.  Ol. 
Ay me detested, how am I beguiled?  Ʋio. 
Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?  Ol. 
Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?  
Call forth the holy Father.  Du. 
Come, away.  Ol. 
Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay.  Du. 
Husband?  Ol. 
I Husband. Can he that deny?  Du. 
Her husband, sirrah?  Vio. 
No my Lord, not I  Ol. 
Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear,  
That makes thee strangle thy propriety:  
Fear not Cesario, take thy fortunes up,  
Be that thou knowst thou art, and then thou art  
As great as that thou fearest.  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 passed, between this youth, and me.  Priest. 
A Contract of eternal bond of love,  
Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,  
Attested by the holy close of lips,  
Strengthened by enterchangement of your rings,  
And all the Ceremony of this compact  
Sealed in my function, by my testimony:  
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave  
I have travailed but two hours.  Du. 
O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be  
When time hath sowed 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.  Vio. 
My Lord, I do protest.  Ol. 
O do not swear,  
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.  Enter Sir Andrew. And. 
For the love of God a Surgeon, send one presently to sir Toby.  Ol. 
What's the matter?  And. 
H'as 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.  Ol. 
Who has done this sir Andrew?  And. 
The Count's Gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a Coward, but he's the very devil incarnate.  Du. 
My Gentleman Cesario?  And. 
Odd'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.  Vio. 
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.  Enter Toby and Clowne. And. 
If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think you set nothing by a bloody Coxcomb. here comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you other gates than he did.  Du. 
How now Gentleman? how is't with you?  To. 
That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th' end on't:  
Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?  Clo. 
O he's drunk sir Toby an hour agone: his eyes were set at eight i' th' morning.  To. 
Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I hate a drunken rogue.  Ol. 
Away with him? Who hath made this havoc with them?  And. 
I'll help you sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.  To. 
Will you help an Ass-head, and a coxcomb, & a knave: a thin faced knave, a gull?  Ol. 
Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked too.  Enter Sebastian. Seb. 
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.  Du. 
One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,  
A natural Perspective, that is, and is not.  Seb. 
Anthonio: O my dear Anthonio,  
How have the hours racked, and tortured me,  
Since I have lost thee?  Ant. 
Sebastian are you?  Seb. 
Fearest thou that Anthonio?  Ant. 
How have you made division of yourself,  
An apple cleft in two, is not more twin  
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?  Ol. 
Most wonderful.  Seb. 
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 devoured:  
Of charity, what kin are you to me?  
What Countryman? What name? What Parentage?  Ʋio. 
Of Messalina: 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.  Seb. 
A spirit I am indeed,  
But am in that dimension grossly clad,  
Which from the womb I did participate.  
Were you a woman, a● the rest goes even,  
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,  
And say, thrice welcome drowned Viola.  Vio. 
My father had a mole upon his brow.  Seb. 
And so had mine.  Vio. 
And died that day when Viola from her birth  
Had numbered thirteen years.  Seb. 
O that record is lively in my soul,  
He finished indeed his mortal act  
That day that made my sister thirteen years.  Vio. 
If nothing lets to make us happy both,  
But this my masculine usurped attire:  
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance,  
Of place, time, fortune, do co-here 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.  Seb. 
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 betrothed both to a maid and man.  Du. 
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 wrack,  
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,  
Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.  Vio. 
And all those sayings, will I over swear,  
And all those swear keep as true in soul,  
As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire,  
That severs day ftom night.  Du. 
Give me thy hand,  
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.  Ʋio. 
The Captain that did bring me first on shore  
Hath my Maid's garments: he upon some Action  
Is now in durance, at Maluolio's suit,  
A Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies.  Ol. 
He shall enlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither,  
And yet alas, now I remember me,  
They say poor Gentleman, he's much distracted.  Enter Clown with a Letter, and Fabian. 
A most extracting frenzy of mine own  
From my remembrance, clearly banished his.  
How does he sirrah?  Cl. 
Truly Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staff'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 madmans' Epistles are no Gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.  Ol. 
Open't, and read it.  Clo. 
Look then to be well edified, when the Fool delivers the Madman. By the Lord Madam.  Ol. 
How now, art thou mad?  Clo. 
No Madam, I do but read madness: and your Ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.  Ol. 
Prithee read i' thy right wits.  Clo. 
So I do Madonna: but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore, perpend my Princess, and give ear.  Ol. 
Read it you, sirrah.  Fab. 
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 Maluolio. Ol. 
Did he write this?  Clo. 
I Madame.  Du. 
This savours not much of distraction.  Ol. 
See him delivered Fabian, bring him hither:  
My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on,  
To think me as well a sister, as a wife,  
One day shall crown th' alliance on't, so please you,  
here at my house, and at my proper cost.  Du. 
Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer:  
Your Master quits you; and for your service done him,  
So much against the mettle of your sex,  
So fare beneath your soft and tender breeding,  
And since you called me Master, for so long:  
here is my hand, you shall from this time be  
your Master's Mistress.  Ol. 
A sister, you are she.  Enter Maluolio. Du. 
Is this the Madman?  Ol. 
I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio?  Mal. 
Madam, you have done me wrong,  
Notorious wrong.  Ol. 
Have I Maluolio? No.  Mal. 
Lady you have, pray you peruse that Letter.  
You must not now deny it is your hand,  
Writ from it if you can, in hand, or phrase,  
Or say, 'tis not your seal, not 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-gartered 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 suffered me to be imprisoned,  
Kept in a dark house, visited by the Priest,  
And made the most notorious gecke and gull,  
That ere invention played on? Tell me why?  Ol. 
Alas Maluolio, 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 cam'st in smiling,  
And in such forms, which here were presupposed  
Upon thee in the Letter: prithee be content,  
This practice hath most shrewdly passed 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.  Fab. 
Good Madam hear me speak,  
And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come,  
Taint the condition of this present hour,  
Which I have wondered at. In hope it shall not,  
Most freely I confess myself, and Toby  
Set this device against Maluolio here,  
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts  
We had conceived against him. Maria writ  
The Letter, at sir Tobyes' great importance,  
In recompense whereof, he hath married her:  
How with a sportful malice it was followed,  
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge,  
If that the injuries be justly weighed,  
That have on both sides past.  Ol. 
Alas poor Fool, how have they baffled thee?  Clo. 
Why some are borne 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, and you smile not he's gauged: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his revenges.  Mal. 
I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you?  Ol. 
He hath been most notoriously abused.  Du. 
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. Mean time sweet sister,  
We will not part from hence. Cesaerio 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 Clown sings. 


When that I was and a little tine boy, with hay, 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 hay ho, etc.  
'Gainst Knaves and Thiefs men shut their gate, for the rain, etc.   

But when I came alas to wine, with hay ho, etc.  
By swaggering could I never thrive, for the rain, etc.   

But when I came unto my beds, with hay ho▪ etc.  
With tospottes still had drunken heads, for the rain, etc.   

A great while ago the world begun, hay ho, etc.  
But that's all one, our Play is done, and we'll strive to please you every day.      
FINIS.   

The Winter's Tale.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Camillo and Archidamus. Arch. 
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.  Cam. 
I think, this coming Summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which he justly owes him.  Arch. 
Wherein our Entertainment shall shame us: we will be justified in our Loves: for indeed—  Cam. 
‛ Beseech you—  Arch. 
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 (un-intelligent of our insufficience) may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.  Cam. 
You pay a great deal to dear, for what's given freely.  Arch. 
‛ Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.  Cam. 
Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia: They were trained together in their Child-hoods; 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) hath been Royally attornyed with interchange of Gifts, Letters, loving Embassies, that they have seemed to be together, though absent: shaken hands, as over a Vast; and embraced as it were from the ends of opposed Winds. The Heavens continue their Loves.  Arch. 
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.  Cam. 
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 borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man.  Arch. 
Would they else be content to die?  Cam. 
Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should desire to live.  Arch. 
If the King had no Son, they would desire to live on Crutches till he had one.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo. Pol. 
Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been  
The Shepherd's Note, since we have left our Throne  
Without a Burden: Time as long again  
Would be filled 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 more,  
That go before it.  Leo. 
Stay your Thanks a while,  
And pay them when you part.  Pol. 
Sir, that's to morrow:  
I am questioned 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 stayed  
To tire your Royalty.  Leo. 
We are tougher (Brother)  
Than you can put us to't.  Pol. 
No longer stay.  Leo. 
One Seue'night longer.  Pol. 
Very sooth, to morrow.  Leo. 
we'll part the time betweene's then: and in that I'll no gainsaying.  Pol. 
Press me not (' beseech you) so:  
There is no Tongue that moves; none, none i' th' 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.)  Leo. 
Tongue-tied our Queen? speak you.  Her. 
I had thought (Sir) to have held my peace, until  
You had 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 proclaimed, say this to him,  
He's beat from his best ward.  Leo. 
Well said, Hermione.  Her. 
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  
Prefixed for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes,  
I love thee not a jar o' th' Clock, behind  
What Lady she her Lord. You'll stay?  Pol. 
No, Madame.  Her. 
Nay, but you will?  Pol. 
I may not verily.  Her. 
Verily?  
You put me off with limber Vows: but I,  
Though you would seek t' unsphere the Stars with Oaths,  
Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verily  
You shall not go; a Ladies Verily ' is  
As potent as a Lords. 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.  Pol. 
Your Guest then, Madame:  
To be your Prisoner, should import offending;  
Which is for me, less easy to commit,  
Than you to punish.  Her. 
Not your Gaoler then,  
But your kind Hostess. Come, I'll question you  
Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boys:  
You were pretty Lordings then?  Pol. 
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.  Her. 
Was not my Lord  
The verver Wag o' th' two?  Pol. 
We were as twyned Lambs, that did frisk i' th' Sun,  
And bleat the one at th' other: what we changed,  
Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not  
The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dreamed  
That any did: Had we pursued that life,  
And our weak Spirits ne'er been higher reared  
With stronger blood, we should have answered Heaven  
Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition cleared,  
Hereditary ours.  Her. 
By this we gather  
You have tripped since.  Pol. 
O my most sacred Lady,  
Temptations have since then been borne to's: for  
In those vnfledged days, was my Wife a Girl;  
Your precious self had then not crossed the eyes  
Of my young Play fellow.  Her 
Grace to boot:  
Of this make no conclusion, lest you say  
Your Queen and I are Devils: yet go on,  
Th' offences we have made you do, we'll answer,  
If you first sinned with us: and that with us  
You did continue fault; and that you slipped not  
With any, but with us.  Leo. 
Is he won yet?  Her. 
he'll stay (my Lord.)  Leo. 
At my request he would not:  
Hermione (my dearest) thou never spoak'st  
To better purpose.  Her. 
Never?  Leo. 
Never, but once.  Her. 
What? have I twice said well? when was't before?  
I prithee tell me: crams with praise, and makes  
As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tongueless,  
Slaughters a thousand▪ waiting upon that.  
Our praises are our Wages. You may rides  
With one soft Kiss a thousand Furlongs, ere  
With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' 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 th' purpose? when?  
Nay, let me have't: I long.  Leo. 
Why, that was when  
Three crabbed Months had soured themselves to death,  
Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand:  
A clap thyself, my Love; then didst thou utter,  
I am yours for ever.  Her. 
'Tis Grace indeed.  
Why lo-you now; I have spoke to th' purpose twice:  
The one, for ever earned a Royal Husband;  
Th' other, for some while a Friend.  Leo. 
Too hot, too hot:  
To mingle friendship fare, 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: it may; I grant:  
But to be paddling Palms, and pinching Fingers,  
As now they are, and making practised Smiles  
As in a Lookingglass; and then to sigh, as 'twere  
The Mort o' th' Deer: oh, that is entertainment  
My Bosom likes not, nor my Brows. Mamillius,  
Art thou my Boy?  Mam. 
I, my good Lord.  Leo. 
I' faith:  
Why that's my Bawcock: what? hast smutched 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 Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calf,  
Are all called Neat. Still Virginalling  
Upon his Palm? How now (you wanton Calf)  
Art thou my Calf?  Mam. 
Yes, if you will (my Lord.)  Leo. 
Thou want'st a rough pash, & 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 any thing.) But were they false  
As o're-dyed Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false  
As Dice are to be wished, by one that fixes  
No borne '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 dearest, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be  
Affection? thy Intention stabs the Centre.  
Thou dost make possible things not so held,  
Communicat'st with Dreams (how can this be?)  
With what's unreall: thou coactive art,  
And fellowest nothing. Then 'tis very credent,  
Thou may'st co-joine 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.)  Pol. 
What means Sicilia?  Her. 
He something seems unsettled.  Pol. 
How? my Lord?  Leo. 
What cheer? how is't with you, best Brother?  Her. 
You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction:  
Are you moved (my Lord?)  Leo. 
No, in good earnest.  
How sometimes Nature will betray its folly?  
It's tenderness? and make itself a Pastime  
To harder bosoms? Looking on the Lynes  
Of my Boy's face, me thoughts I did requoyle  
Twenty three years, and saw myself vn-breeched,  
In my green Velvet Coat; my Dagger muzzled,  
Lest it should bite its Master, and so prove  
(As Ornaments oft does) too dangerous:  
How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernel,  
This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend,  
Will you take Eggs for Money?  Mam. 
No (my Lord) I'll fight.  Leo. 
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?  Pol. 
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 julyes' day, short as December,  
And with his varying child-nesse, cures in me  
Thoughts, that would thick my blood.  Leo. 
So stands this Squire  
Officed with me: We two will walk (my Lord)  
And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,  
How thou lov'st 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.  Her. 
If you would seek us,  
We are yours i' th' Garden: shall's attend you there?  Leo. 
To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,  
Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now,  
(Though you perceive me not how I give Lyne)  
Go too, go too.  
How she holds up the Neb? the Bill to him?  
And arms her with the boldness of a Wife  
To her allowing Husband. Gone already,  
Ynch-thick knee-deep; o'er head and ears a forked one.  
Go play (Boy) play: thy Mother plays, and I  
Play too; but so disgraced a part, whose issue  
Will hisse 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 th' Arm,  
That little thinks she has been sluyced in's absence,  
And his Pond fished by his next Neighbour (by  
Sir Smile, his Neighbour:) nay, there's comfort in't,  
Whiles other men have Gates, and those Gates opened  
(As mine) against their will. Should all despair  
That have revolted Wives, the tenth of Mankind  
Would hang themselves. Physic for't, there's 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 Barricodo 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 feeleed not. How now Boy?  Mam. 
I am like you say.  Leo. 
Why, that's some comfort.  
What? Camillo there?  Cam. 
I, my good Lord.  Leo. 
Go play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man:  
Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer.  Cam. 
You had much ado to make his Anchor hold,  
When you cast out, it still came home.  Leo. 
Didst note it?  Cam. 
He would not stay at your Petitions, made  
His Business more material.  Leo. 
Didst perceive it?  
They're here with me already; whispering, rounding:  
Sicilia is a soforth: 'tis fare gone,  
When I shall gust it last. How camed (Camillo)  
That he did stay?  Cam. 
At the good Queen's entreaty.  Leo. 
At the Queens 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 Severalls  
Of Head-piece extraordinary? Lower Messes  
Perchance are to this Business purblind? say.  Cam. 
Business, my Lord? I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer.  Leo. 
Ha'?  Cam. 
Stays here longer.  Leo. 
I, but why?  Cam. 
To satisfy your Highness, and the Entreaties  
Of our most gracious Mistress.  Leo. 
Satisfy?  
Th' 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-Councels, wherein (Priestlike) thou  
Hast cleansed my Bosom: I, from thee departed  
Thy Penitent reformed: but we have been  
Deceived in thy Integrity, deceived  
In that which seems so.  Cam. 
Be it forbidden (my Lord.)  Leo. 
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 played home, the rich Stake drawn,  
And tak'st it all for jest.  Cam. 
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 wilfull-negligent,  
It was my folly: if industriously  
I played the Fool, it was my negligence,  
Not weighing well the end: if ever fearful  
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,  
Whereof the execution did cry out  
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear  
Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord)  
Are such allowed 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.  Leo. 
Ha' not you seen Camillo?  
(But that's past doubt: you have, or your eye-glasse  
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 Holy-Horse, deserves a Name  
As rank as any Flax-Wench, that puts to  
Before her trothplight: say't, and iustifyed.  Cam. 
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.  Leo. 
Is whispering nothing?  
Is leaning Cheek to Cheek? is meating Noses?  
Kissing with inside Lip? stopping the Career  
Of Laughter, 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.  Cam. 
Good my Lord, be cured  
Of this diseased Opinion, and betimes,  
For 'tis most dangerous.  Leo. 
Say it be, 'tis true.  Cam. 
No, no, my Lord.  Leo. 
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 hover 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.  Cam. 
Who does infect her?  Leo. 
Why he that wears her like her Medulla, 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: I, and thou  
His Cupbearer, whom I from meaner form  
Have Benched, and reared to Worship, who may'st see  
Plainly, as Heaven sees Earth▪ and Earth sees Heaven,  
How I am galled, mightst be-spice a Cup,  
To give mine Enemy a lasting Wink:  
Which Draught to me, were cordial.  Cam. 
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 soveraignely being Honourable.)  
I have loved thee.  Leo 
Make that thy question, and go rot:  
Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,  
To appoint myself in this vexation?  
Su●ly the purity and whiteness of my Sheets  
(Which to preserve, is Sleep; which being spotted,  
Is Go●es, Thorns Nettles, Tails of Wasps)  
Give scandal to the blood o' th' Prince, my Son,  
(Who I do think is mine, and jove as mine)  
Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this?  
Can man so blench?  Cam. 
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.  Leo. 
Thou dost advice me,  
Even so as I mine own course have set down:  
I'll give no blemish to her Honour, none.  Cam. 
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 Beveridge,  
Account me not your Servant.  Leo. 
This is all:  
Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart;  
Do't not, thou splitt'st thine own.  Cam. 
I'll do't, my Lord.  Leo. 
I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.  Exit Cam. 
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 thousand's that had struck anointed Kings,  
And flourished after, I'd not do't: But since  
Nor Brass, nor Stone, nor Parchment bears not one,  
Let Villainy itself forswear't. I must  
Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certain  
To me a breakeneck. Happy Star reign now,  
Here comes Bohemia.  Enter Polixenes. Pol. 
This is strange: methinks  
My favour here gins to warp. Not speak?  
Good day Camillo.  Cam. 
Hail most Royal Sir.  Pol. 
What is the News i' th' Court?  Cam. 
None rare (my Lord.)  Pol. 
The King hath on him such a countenance,  
As he had lost some Province, and a Region  
Loved, as he love's himself: even now I met him  
With customary compliment, when he  
Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling  
A Lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and  
So leaves me, to consider what is breeding,  
That changes thus his Manners.  Cam. 
I dare not know (my Lord.)  Pol. 
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 altered with't.  Cam. 
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.  Pol. 
How caught of me?  
Make me not sighted like the Basilisque.  
I have looked on thousands, who have sped the better  
By my regard, but killed none so: Camillo,  
As you are certainly a Gentleman, thereto  
Clerke-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 behoove my knowledge,  
Thereof to be informed, imprisoned not  
In ignorant concealment.  Cam. 
I may not answer.  Pol. 
A Sickness caught of me, and yet I well?  
I must be answered. 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 incidencie thou dost guess of harm  
Is creeping toward me; how fare off, how near,  
Which way to be prevented, if to be:  
If not, how best to bear it.  Cam. 
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 followed, as  
I mean to utter it; or both yourself, and me,  
Cry lost, and so good night.  Pol. 
On, good Camillo.  Cam. 
I am appointed him to murder you.  Pol. 
By whom, Camillo?  Cam. 
By the King.  Pol. 
For what?  Cam. 
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 touched his Queen  
Forbiddenly.  Pol. 
Oh 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 shunned,  
Nay hated too, worse than the great'st Infection  
That ere was heard, or read.  Cam. 
Swear his thought over  
By each particular Star in Heaven, and  
By all their Influences; you may as well  
Forbidden 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.  Pol. 
How should this grow?  Cam. 
I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to  
Avoid what's grown, then question how 'tis borne.  
If therefore you dare trust my honesty,  
That lies enclosed in this Trunk, which you  
Shall bear along impawnd, away to Night,  
Your Followers I will whisper to the Business,  
And will by twoes, and three, at several Posterns,  
Clear them o' th' 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 uttered Truth: which if you seek to prove,  
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer,  
Than one condemned by the Kings own mouth:  
Thereon his Execution sworn.  Pol. 
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 dishonoured by a man, which ever  
Professed 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'ne suspicion. Come Camillo,  
I will respect thee as a Father, if  
Thou bearest my life off, hence: Let us avoid.  Cam. 
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.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords. Her. 
Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me,  
'Tis past enduring.  Lady. 
Come (my gracious Lord)  
Shall I be your playfellow?  Mam. 
No, I'll none of you.  Lady. 
Why (my sweet Lord?)  Mam. 
You'll kiss me hard, and speak to me, as if  
I were a Baby still. I love you better.  2. Lady. 
And why so (my Lord?)  Mam. 
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 Cemicircle,  
Or a halfmoon, made with a Pen.)  2. Lady. 
Who taught ' this?  Mam. 
I learned it out of women's faces: pray now,  
What colour are your eyebrows?  Lady. 
Blew (my Lord.)  Mam. 
Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a Lady's Nose  
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.  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'd wanton with us,  
If we would have you.  2. Lady. 
She is spread of late  
Into a goodly Bulk (good time encounter her.)  Her. 
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now  
I am for you again: Pray you sit by us,  
And tell's a Tale.  Mam. 
Merry, or sad, shalt be?  Her. 
As merry as you will.  Mam. 
A sad Tale's best for Winter:  
I have one of Sprights, and Goblins.  Her. 
Let's have that (good Sir.)  
Come-on, sit down, come-on, and do your best,  
To fright me with your Sprights: you're powerful at it.  Mam. 
There was a man.  Her. 
Nay, come sit down: then on.  Mam. 
Dwelled by a Churchyard: I will tell it softly,  
Yond Crickets shall not hear it.  Her. 
Come on then, and give't me in mine care.  Leon. 
Was he met there? his Train? Camillo with him?  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.  Leo. 
How blessed am I  
In my just Censure? in my true Opinion?  
Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accursed,  
In being so blessed? There may be in the Cup  
A Spider steeped, and one may drink; depart,  
And yet partake no venom: (for his knowledge  
Is not infected) but if one present  
Th' abhorred 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 employed, was pre-employed by him:  
He has discovered my Design, and I  
Remain a pinched Thing; yea, a very Trick  
For them to play at will: how came the Posterns  
So easily open?  Lord. 
By his great authority,  
Which often hath no less prevailed, then so,  
On your command.  Leo. 
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.  Her. 
What is this? Sport?  Leo. 
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.  Her. 
But I'd say he had not;  
And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,  
How e'er you leave to th' Nay-ward.  Leo. 
You (my Lords)  
Look on her, mark her well: be but about  
To say she is a goodly Lady, and  
The justice of your hearts will thereto add  
'Tis pity she's not honest: Honourable;  
Praise her but for this her without-dore-Forme,  
(Which on my faith deserves high speech) and strait  
The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha', (these Petty-brands  
That Calumny doth use; Oh, I am out,  
That Mercy does, for Calumny will fear  
Virtue itself) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Has,  
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 Adultress.  Her. 
Should a Villain say so,  
(The most replenished Villain in the World)  
He were as much more Villain: you (my Lord)  
Do but mistake.  Leo. 
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 Adultress, I have said with whom:  
More; she's a Traitor, and Camillo is  
A Federarie with her, and one that knows  
What she should shame to know herself,  
But with her most vild Principal: that she's  
A Bed-swaruer, even as bad as those  
That Vulgars' give boldest Titles; I, and privy  
To this their late escape.  Her. 
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 published me? Gentle my Lord.  
You scarce can right me throughly, then, to say  
You did mistake.  Leo. 
No: if I mistake  
In those Foundations which I build upon,  
The Centre is not big enough to bear  
A Schoolboys Top. Away with her, to Prison:  
He who shall speak for her, is a far-off guilty,  
But that he speaks.  Her. 
There's some ill Planet reigns:  
I must be patiented, 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 Kings will be performed.  Leo. 
Shall I be heard?  Her. 
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 wished to see you sorry, now  
I trust I shall: my Women come, you have leave.  Leo. 
Go, do our bidding: hence.  Lord. 
Beseech your Highness call the Queen again.  Antig. 
Be certain what you do (Sir) lest your justice  
Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer,  
Yourself, your Queen, your Son.  Lord. 
For her (my Lord)  
I dare my life lay down, and will do't (Sir)  
Please you t' accept it, that the Queen is spotless  
I' th' eyes of Heaven, and to you (I mean  
In this, which you accuse her.)  Antig. 
If it prove  
she's otherwise, I'll keep my Stables where  
I lodge my Wife, I'll go in couples with her:  
Then when I feel, and see her, no farther trust her:  
For every inch of Woman in the World,  
I, every dram of Woman's flesh is false,  
If she be.  Leo. 
Hold your peaces.  Lord. 
Good my Lord.  Antig. 
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:  
You are abused, and by some butter on,  
That will be damned for't: would I knew the Villain,  
I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flawed,  
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 gelled 'em all: fourteen they shall not see  
To bring false generations: they are coheirs,  
And I had rather glib myself, than they  
Should not produce fair issue.  Leo. 
Cease, no more:  
You smell this business with a sense as cold  
As is a deadman's nose: but I do see't, and feel't,  
As you feel doing thus: and see withal  
The Instruments that feel.  Antig. 
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.  Leo. 
What? lacke I credit?  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.  Leo. 
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▪  Antig. 
And I wish (my Liege)  
You had only in your silent judgement tried it,  
Without more overture.  Leo. 
How could that be?  
Either thou art most ignorant by age,  
Or thou were't borne a fool: Camillo's flight  
Added to their Familiarity  
(Which was as gross, as ever touched conjecture,  
That lacked sight only, nought for approbation  
But only seeing, all other circumstances  
Made up to ' th' 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 dispatched in post,  
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's Temple,  
Cleomines 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?  Lord. 
Well done (my Lord.)  Leo. 
Though I am satisfied, and need no more  
Than what I know, yet shall the Oracle  
Give rest to th' minds of others; such as he  
Whose ignorant credulity, will not  
Come up to th' 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.  Antig. 
To laughter, as I take it,  
If the good truth, were known.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Jailer, Emilia. Paul. 
The Keeper of the prison, call to him:  
Let him have knowledge who I am. Good Lady,  
No Court in Europe is too good for thee,  
What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir,  
You know me, do you not?  Gao. 
For a worthy Lady,  
And one, who much I honour.  Pau. 
Pray you then,  
Conduct me to the Queen.  Gao. 
I may not (Madam)  
To the contrary I have express commandment.  Pau. 
Here's ado, to lock up honesty & honour from  
Th' access of gentle visitors. Is't lawful pray you  
To see her Women? Any of them? Emilia?  Gao. 
So please you (Madam)  
To put apart these your attendants, I  
Shall bring Emilia forth.  Pau. 
I pray now call her:  
Withdraw yourselves.  Gao. 
And Madam,  
I must be present at your Conference.  Pau. 
Well: be't so: prithee.  
here's such ado, to make no stain, a stain,  
As passes colouring. Dear Gentlewoman,  
How fares our gracious Lady?  Emil. 
As well as one so great, and so forlorn  
May hold together: On her frights, and griefs  
(Which never tender Lady hath borne greater)  
She is, something before her time, delivered.  Pau. 
A boy?  Emil. 
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,  Pau. 
I dare be sworn:  
These dangerous, unsafe Lunes i' th' 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 hony-mouthed, let my tongue blister.  
And never to my red-looked 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 th' loudest. We do not know  
How he may soften at the sight o' th' Child:  
The silence often of pure innocence  
Persuades, when speaking fails.  Emil. 
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 hammered of this design,  
But durst not tempt a minister of honour  
Lest she should be denied.  Paul. 
Tell her (Emilia)  
I'll use that tongue I have: If wit flow from't  
As boldness from my bosom, lead not be doubted  
I shall do good.  Emil. 
Now be you blessed for it.  
I'll to the Queen: please you come something nearer.  Gao. 
Madam, if't please the Queen to send the babe,  
I know not what I shall incur, to pass it,  
Having no warrant.  Pau. 
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.  Gao. 
I do believe it.  Paul. 
Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I●  
Will stand betwixt you, and danger.  Exeunt  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Leontes, Servants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords. Leo. 
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' th' cause,  
She, th' Adultress: for the harlot-King  
Is quite beyond mine Arm, out of the blank  
And level of my brain: plot-proofe: 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. Whose there?  Ser. 
My Lord.  Leo. 
How does the boy?  Ser. 
He took good rest to night: 'tis hoped  
His sickness is discharged.  Leo. 
To see his Nobleness,  
Conceyving the dishonour of his Mother.  
He strait declined, drooped, took it deeply,  
Fastened, and fixed the shame on't in himself:  
Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleep,  
And downright languished. Leave me solely: go,  
See how he fares: Fie, fie, no thought of him,  
The very 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. Lord. 
You must not enter.  Paul. 
Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me:  
Fear you his tyrannous passion more (alas)  
Then the Queen's life? A gracious innocent soul,  
More free, than he is jealous.  Antig. 
That's enough.  Ser. 
Madam; he hath not slept to night, commanded  
None should come at him.  Pau. 
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 heave: 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.  Leo. 
Who noise there, ho?  Pau. 
No noise (my Lord) but needful conference,  
About some Gossips for your Highness.  Leo. 
How?  
Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus,  
I charged thee that she should not come about me,  
I knew she would.  Ant. 
I told her so (my Lord)  
On your displeasures peril, and on mine,  
She should not visit you.  Leo. 
What? canst not rule her?  Paul. 
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:  Ant. 
La-you now, you hear,  
When she will take the rain, I let her run,  
But she'll not stumble.  Paul. 
Good my Liege, I come:  
And I beseech you hear me, who professes  
Myself your loyal Servant, your Physician,  
Your most obedient Counsellor: yet that dares  
Less appear so, in comforting your Evils,  
Then such as most seem yours. I say, I come  
From your good Queen.  Leo. 
Good Queen?  Paul. 
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.  Leo. 
Force her hence.  Pau. 
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.  Leo. 
Out:  
A mankind Witch? Hence with her, out o'dore:  
A most intelligencing bawd.  Paul. 
Not so:  
I am as ignorant in that, as you,  
In so entit'ling me: and no less honest  
Than you are mad: which is enough, I'll warrant  
(As this world goes) to pass for honest:  Leo. 
Traitors;  
Will you not push her out? Give her the Bastard,  
Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyred: unroosted  
By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the Bastard,  
Take't up, I say: give't to thy Crone.  Paul. 
For ever  
Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou  
Tak'st up the Princess, by that forced baseness  
Which he has put upon't.  Leo. 
He dreads his Wife.  Paul. 
So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubt  
you'd call your children, yours.  Leo. 
A nest of Traitors.  Ant. 
I am none, by this good light.  Pau. 
Nor I: nor any  
But one that's here: and that's himself: for he,  
The sacred Honour of himself, his Queens,  
His hopeful Sons, his Babes, betrays to Slander,  
Whose sting is sharper than the Swords; and will not  
(For as the case now stands, it is a Curse  
He cannot be compelled too't) once remove  
The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,  
As ever Oak, or Stone was sound.  Leo. 
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.  Paul. 
It is yours:  
And might we lay th' 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 Husbands.  Leo. 
A gross Hag:  
And Lozel, thou art worthy to be hanged,  
That wilt not stay her Tongue.  Antig. 
Hang all the Husbands  
That cannot do that Feat, you'll leave yourself  
Hardly one Subject.  Leo. 
Once more take her hence.  Paul. 
A most unworthy, and unnatural Lord  
Can do no more.  Leo. 
I'll h● ' thee burnt.  Paul. 
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 weake-hindged Fancy) something savours  
Of Tyranny, and will ignoble make you,  
Yea, scandalous to the World.  Leo. 
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.  Paul. 
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. Leo. 
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 strait:  
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-braynes with these my proper hands  
Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire,  
For thou sett'st on thy Wife.  Antig. 
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.  Leo. 
You're liars all.  Lord. 
Beseech your Highness, give us better credit:  
We have always truly served you, and beseech '  
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  
Led on to some foul Issue. We all kneel.  Leo. 
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,  
Then 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 Brats life?  Antig. 
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.  Leo. 
It shall be possible: Swear by this Sword  
Thou wilt perform my bidding.  Antig. 
I will (my Lord.)  Leo. 
Mark, and perform it: seest 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 Liegeman 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 it own protection,  
And favour of the Climate: as by strange fortune  
It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,  
On thy Souls peril, and thy Bodies torture,  
That thou commend it strangely to some place,  
Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it up.  Antig. 
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, condemned to loss.)  Exit. Leo. 
No: I'll not rear  
Another's Issue.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
Please ' your Highness, Posts  
From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come  
An hour since: Cleomines and Dion,  
Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed,  
Hasting to th' Court.  Lord. 
So please you (Sir) their speed  
Hath been beyond account.  Leo. 
Twenty three days  
They have been absent: 'tis good speed: foretelleth  
The great Apollo suddenly will have  
The truth of this appear: Prepare you Lords,  
Summon a Session, that we may arraign  
Our most ●sloyall Lady▪ for as she hath  
Been publicly accused, so shall she have  
A just and open Trial. While she life's,  
My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me,  
And think upon my bidding.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Cleomines and Dion. Cleo. 
The Clymat'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 un-earthly  
It was i' th' Offering?  Cleo. 
But of all, the burst  
And the eare-deaff●ning Voice o' th' Oracle,  
Kin to Jove's Thunder, so surprised my Sense,  
That I was nothing.  Dio. 
It th' event o' th' 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.  Cleo. 
Great Apollo  
Turn all to th' best: these Proclamations,  
So forcing faults upon Hermione,  
I little like.  Dio. 
The violent carriage of it  
Will clear, or end the Business, when the Oracle  
(Thus by Apollo's great Divine sealed up)  
Shall the Contents discover: something rare  
Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh Horses,  
And gracious be the issue.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Trial) Ladies: Cleomines, Dion. Leo. 
This Sessions (to our great grief we pronounce)  
Even bushes 'gainst our heart. The party tried,  
The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one  
Of us too much beloved. Let us be cleared  
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly  
Proceed in justice, which shall have due course,  
Even to the Gild, or the Purgation:  
Produce the Prisoner.  Officer. 
It is his Highness' pleasure, that the Queen  
Appear in person, here in Court.  Silence. Leo. 
Read the Indictment.  Officer. 
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.  Her. 
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 humane 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  
(Whom 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 played, to take Spectators. For behold me,  
A Fellow of the Royal Bed, which own  
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 prise 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 uncurrant, I  
Have strained t' appear thus; if one jot beyond  
The bound of Honour, or in act, or will  
That way inclining, hardened be the hearts  
Of all that hear me, and my nearest of Kin  
Cry fie upon my Grave.  Leo. 
I ne'er heard yet,  
That any of these bolder Vices wanted  
Less Impudence to gainsay what they did,  
Then to perform it first.  Her. 
That's true enough,  
Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me.  Leo. 
You will not own it.  Her. 
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 dished  
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.  Leo. 
You knew of his departure, as you know  
What you have vnderta'ne to do in's absence.  Her. 
Sir,  
You speak a Language that I understand not:  
My Life stands in the level of your Dreams,  
Which I'll lay down.  Leo. 
Your Actions are my Dreams.  
You had a Bastard by Polixenes,  
And I but dreamed it: As you were passed 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 out justice; in whose easiest passage,  
Look for no less than death.  Her. 
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 favor)  
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 barred, like one infectious. My third comfort  
(Stared most unluckily) is from my breast  
(The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth)  
Haled out to murder. Myself on every Post  
Proclaimed a Strumpet: With immodest hatred  
The Childbed privilege denied, which longs  
To Women of all fashion. Lastly, horrid  
Here, to this place, i' th' 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 prise it not a straw) but for mine Honour,  
Which I would free: if I shall be condemned  
Upon surmizes (all proofs sleeping else,  
But what your jealousies awake) I tell you  
'Tis Rigour, and not Law Your Honours all,  
I do refer me to the Oracle:  
Apollo be my judge.  Lord. 
This your request  
Is altogether just: therefore bring forth  
(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle.  Her. 
The Emperor of Russia was my Father.  
Oh 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.  Officer. 
You here shall swear upon this Sword of justice,  
That you (Cleomines and Dion) have  
Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought  
This seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand delivered  
Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since then,  
You have not dared to break the holy Seal,  
Nor read the Secrets in't.  Cleo Dio. 
All this we swear.  Leo. 
Break up the Seals, and read.  Officer. 
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.  Her. 
Praised.  Leo 
Hast thou read truth?  Offic. 
I (my Lord) even so as it is here set down.  Leo. 
There is no truth at all i' th' Oracle:  
The Sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.  Ser. 
My Lord the King: the King?  Leo. 
What is the business?  Ser. 
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.  Leo. 
How? gone?  Ser. 
Is dead.  Leo. 
Apollo's angry, and the Heavens themselves  
Do strike at my Injustice. How now there?  Paul. 
This news is mortal to the Queen: Look down  
And see what Death is doing.  Leo. 
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. Apollo pardon  
My great profaneness 'gainst thine Oracle.  
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,  
New woe 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 it, and being done: he (most humane,  
And filled with Honour) to my Kingly Guest  
Unclasped my practice, quit his fortunes here  
(Which you knew great) and to the hazard  
Of all Incertainties, himself commended,  
No richer than his Honour: How he glisters  
Through my Rust? and how his Piety  
Does my deeds make the blacker?  Paul. 
Woe the while:  
O cut my Lace, lest my heart (cracking it)  
Break too.  Lord. 
What fit is this? good Lady?  Paul. 
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 bygone fooleries were but spices of it.  
That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing,  
(That did but show thee, of a Fool, inconstant,  
And damnable ingrateful:) Nor was't much,  
Thou wouldst have poisoned 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 don't:  
Nor is't directly laid to thee the death  
Of the young Prince, whose honourable thoughts  
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cloven the heart  
That could conceive a gross and foolish Sire  
Blemished 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 Oueene,  
The sweetest, dearest creature's dead: & vengeance for't  
Not dropped down yet.  Lord. 
The higher powers forbidden.  Pau. 
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 were't.  Leo. 
Go on, go on:  
Thou canst not speak too much, I have deserved  
All tongues to talk their bittrest.  Lord. 
Say no more;  
How ere the business goes, you have made fault  
I ' th' boldness of your speech.  Pau. 
I am sorry for't;  
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,  
I do repent: Alas, I have showed too much  
The rashness of a woman: he is touched  
To th' 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 punished, 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.  Leo. 
Thou didst speak but well,  
When most the truth: which I receive much better,  
Then 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  
To these sorrows.  Exeunt  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Antigonus, a Mariner, Babe, Shepherd, and Clown. Ant. 
Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touched upon  
The Deserts of Bohemia.  Mar. 
I (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.  Ant. 
Their sacred will's be done: go get aboard,  
Look to thy bark, I'll not be long before  
I call upon thee.  Mar. 
Make your best haste, and go not  
Toofarre i' th' Land: 'tis like to be loud weather,  
Besides this place is famous for the Creatures  
Of prey, that keep upon't.  Antig. 
Go thou away,  
I'll follow instantly.  Mar. 
I am glad at heart  
To be so rid o' th' business.  Exit Ant. 
Come, poor babe;  
I have heard (but not believed) the Spirits o' th' dead  
May walk again: if such thing be, thy Mother  
Appeared 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 filled, and so becoming: in pure white Robes  
Like very sanctity she did approach  
My Cabin where I lay: thrice bowed 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 Thower-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 suffered 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 enjoined 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. Shep. 
I would there were no age between ten 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 Auncientry, stealing, fight, hark you now: would any but these boylde-braines 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, brouzing of juy▪ Good-luck (an't be thy will) what have we here? Mercy on's, a Barn? A very pretty barn; A boy, or a Child I wonder? (A pretty one, a very pretty one) sure some Escape; Though I am not bookish▪ yet I can read Waiting-Gentlewoman in the escape: this has been some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some behinde-doore 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 hallowed but even now. Whoa-ho-hoa.  Enter Clown. Clo. 
Hilloa, loa.  Shep. 
What? art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither: what ail'st thou, man?  Clo. 
I have seen two such sights, by Sea & 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 bodkins point.  Shep. 
Why boy, how is it?  Clo. 
I would you did but see how it chases, how it rages, how it takes up the shore, but that's not to the point: Oh, the most piteous cry of the poor souls, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Ship boaring the Moon with her main Mast, and anon swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd 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 flapdragoned 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.  Shep. 
Name of mercy, when was this boy?  Clo. 
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.  Shep. 
Would I had been by, to have helped the old man.  Clo. 
I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing.  Shep. 
Heavy matters, heavy matters: but look thee here boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things dying, I with things new borne Here's a sight for thee: Look thee, a bearing-cloath 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?  Clo. 
You're a mad old man: If the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold, all Gold.  Shep. 
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.  Clo. 
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 cursed but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it.  Shep. 
That's a good deed: if thou mayest discern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him.  Clown. 
‛ Marry will I: and you shall help to put him i' th' ground.  Shep. 
'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't  Exeunt   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  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  
over sixteen years, and leave the growth untride  
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 ancientest Order was,  
Or what is now received. I witness to  
The times that brought them in, so shall I do  
To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stolen  
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  
Th' 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' th' Kings, which Florizell  
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 prophesy: but let Time's news  
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter  
And what to her adheres, which follows after,  
Is th' 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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Polixenes, and Camillo. Pol. 
I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate: 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing: a death to grant this.  Cam. 
It is fifteen years since I saw my Country: though I have (for the most part) been ayred 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 oreweene to think so) which is another spur to my departure.  Pol. 
As thou lov'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest of thy services, by leaving me now: the need I have of thee, thine owne● goodness hath made: better not to have had thee, then 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, punnishes me with the remembrance of that penitent (as thou call'st him) and reconciled King my brother, whose loss of his most precious Queen & Children, are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizel my son? King's are no less unhappy, their issue, not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved their Virtues.  Cam. 
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 then formerly he hath appeared.  Pol. 
I have considered so much (Camillo) and with some care, so fare, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removednesse: 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.  Cam. 
I have heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended more, then can be thought to begin from such a cottage  Pol. 
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.  Cam. 
I willingly obey your command.  Pol. 
My best Camillo, we must disguise ourselves.  Exit  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Antolicus singing. 


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 winters pale.   

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,  
With boy the sweet birds, O how they sing:  
Doth set my pugging tooth an edge,  
For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.   

The Lark that tirra Lyra chants,  
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 Bowget,  
Then my account I well may give,  
and in the Stocks avouch-it.   
My Traffic is sheets: when the Kite builds, look to lesser Linnen. My Father named me Autolicus, who being (as I am) lyttered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles: With die and drab, I purchased this Caparison, and my Revennew 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. Clo. 
Let me see, every Leaven-weather toddes, every tod yields pound and odd shilling: fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool too?  Aut. 
If the springe hold, the Cocke's mine.  Clo. 
I cannot do't without Compters. Let me see, what am I to buy for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three pound of Sugar, five pound of Currence, 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 mademe four and twenty Nosegays 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 horne-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 Prewyns, and as many of Raisins o' th' Sun.  Aut. 
Oh, that ever I was borne.  Clo. 
I' th' name of me.  Aut. 
Oh help me, help me: pluck but off these rags: and then, death, death.  Clo. 
Alack poor soul, thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.  Aut. 
Oh sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me, more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions.  Clo. 
Alas poor man, a million of beating may come to a great matter.  Aut. 
I am robbed sir, and beaten: my money, and apparel ta'en from me, and these derestable things put upon me.  Clo. 
What, by a horseman, or a footman?  Aut. 
A footman (sweet sir) a footman.  Clo. 
Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left with thee: If this be a horsemans' Coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy hand.  Aut. 
Oh good sir, tenderly, oh.  Clo. 
Alas poor soul.  Aut. 
Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I fear (sir) my shoulderblade is out.  Clo. 
How now? Canst stand?  Aut. 
Softly, dear sir: good sir, softly: you ha' done me a charitable office.  Clo. 
Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.  Aut. 
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.  Clow. 
What manner of Fellow was he that robbed you?  Aut. 
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.  Clo. 
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.  Aut. 
Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well, he hath been since an Ape-bearer, than a Processe-seruer (a Bailiff) than 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 Autolicus.  Clo. 
Out upon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts Wakes, Fairs, and Bear-baitings.  Aut. 
Very true sir: he sir he: that's the Rogue that put me into this apparel.  Clo. 
Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd have run.  Aut. 
I must confess to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him.  Clo. 
How do you now?  Aut. 
Sweet sir, much better than I was: I can stand, and walk: I will even take my leave of you, & pace softly towards my Kinsman's.  Clo. 
Shall I bring thee on the way?  Aut. 
No, good faced sir, no sweet sir.  Clo. 
Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our sheepshearing.  Exit. Aut. 
Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your Spice: I'll be with you at your sheepshearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out another, and the sheerers prove sheep, let me be unrold, and my name put in the book of Virtue.  

Song  
jog-on, jog-on, the footpath way,  
And merrily hent the Stile:  
A merry heart goes all the day,  
Your sad tires in a Mile.   Exit.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clown, Polixenes, Camillo, Mopsa, Dorcas, Servants, Autolicus. Flo. 
These your unusual weeds, to each part of you  
Does give a life: no Shepherdess, but Flora  
Peering in April's front. This your sheepshearing,  
Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,  
And you the Queen on't.  Perd. 
Sir: my gracious Lord,  
To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me:  
(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high self  
The gracious mark o' th' Land, you have obscured  
With a Swains wearing: and me (poor lowly Maid)  
Most Goddese-like pranked up: But that our Feasts  
In every Mess, have folly; and the Feeders  
Digest with a Custom, I should blush  
To see you so attired: sworn I think,  
To show myself a glass.  Flo. 
I bless the time,  
When my good Falcon, made her flight across  
Thy Father's ground  Perd. 
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: Oh the Pates,  
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,  
Vildly bound up? What would he say? Or how  
Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold  
The sternness of his presence?  Flo. 
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 bellowed: the green Neptune  
A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God  
Golden Apollo, a poor humble Swain,  
As I seem now. Their transformations,  
Were never for a piece of beauty, rarer,  
Not in a way so chaste: since my desires  
Run not before mine honour: nor my Lusts  
Burn hotter than my Faith.  Perd. 
O but Sir,  
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis  
Opposed (as it must be) by th' 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.  Flo. 
Thou dearest Perdita,  
With these forced thoughts, I prithee darken not  
The Mirth o' th' Feast: Or I'll be thine (my Fair)  
Or not my Fathers. 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.  Perd. 
O Lady Fortune,  
Stand you auspicious.  Flo. 
See, your Guests approach,  
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,  
And let's be red with mirth.  Shep. 
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' th' Table; now, i' th' 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' th' Feast. Come on,  
And bid us welcome to your sheepshearing,  
As your good flock shall prosper.  Perd. 
Sir, welcome:  
It is my Father's will, I should take on me  
The Hostesseship o' th' day: 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.  Pol. 
Shepherdess,  
(A fair one are you:) well you fit our ages  
With flowers of Winter.  Perd. 
Sir, the year growing ancient,  
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth  
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season  
Are our Carnations, and streaked Gillyvores,  
(Which some call Nature's bastards) of that kind  
Our rustic Gardens barren, and I care not  
To get slips of them.  Pol. 
Wherefore (gentle Maiden)  
Do you neglect them.  Perd. 
For I have heard it said,  
There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares  
With great creating-Nature.  Pol. 
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 Sien, to the wildest Stock,  
And make conceive a bark of base kind  
By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art  
Which does mend Nature: change it rather, but  
The Art itself, is Nature.  Perd. 
So it is.  Pol. 
Then make you Garden rich in Gilly'vors,  
And do not call them bastards.  Perd. 
I'll not put  
The Dible 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, Mariorum,  
The Marigold, that goes to bed with Sun,  
And with him rises, weeping: These are flowers  
Of middle summer, and I think they are given  
To men of middle age. YE are very welcome.  Cam. 
I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,  
And only live by gazing.  Perd. 
Out alas:  
You'd be so lean, that blasts of january  
Would blow you through and through. Now my fa●st Friend,  
I would I had some Flowers o' th' 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 lettest fall  
From Dysses Wagon: 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  
Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Malady  
Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and  
The Crown Imperial: Lilies of all kinds,  
(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lack,  
To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,  
To strew him o'er, and over.  Flo. 
What? like a Coarse?  Perd. 
No, like a bank, for Love to lie, and play on:  
Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,  
But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flours,  
Me thinks I play as I have seen them do  
In Whitso●-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine  
Does change my disposition:  Flo. 
What you do,  
Still betters what is done. When you speak (Sweet)  
I'd have you do it ever: When you sing,  
I'd 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' th' 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 deeds,  
That all your Acts, are Queens.  Perd. 
O Doricles,  
Your praises are too large: but that your youth  
And the true blood which peeps fairly through't,  
Do plainly give you out an unstained Sphepherd  
With wisdom, I might fear (my Doricles)  
You wooed me the false way.  Flo. 
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.  Perd. 
I'll swear for 'em.  Po. 
This is the prettiest Low-born Lass, that ever  
Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she does, or seems  
But smacks of something greater than herself,  
Too Noble for this place.  Cam. 
He tells her something  
That makes her blood look on't: Good sooth she is  
The Queen of Curds and Cream.  Clo. 
Come on: strike up.  Dorcas 
Mopsa must be your Mistress: marry Garlic to mend her kissing with.  Mop. 
Now in good time.  Clo. 
Not a word, a word, we stand upon our manners,  
Come, strike up.  here a Dance of Shepherds and Shephearddesses. Pol. 
Pray good Shepherd, what fair Swain is this,  
Which dances with your daughter?  Shep. 
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 love's 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 love's another best.  Pol. 
She dances fearly.  Shep. 
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. Ser. 
O Master: if you did but hear the Pedlar at the door, you would never dance again after a Tabor and Pipe: no, the Bagpipe could not move you: he singes 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.  Clo. 
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.  Ser. 
He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes: No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloves: he has the prettiest Lovesongs for Maids, so without bawdry (which is strange,) with such delicate burdens of Dildoes and Fade: jump-her, and thump-her; and where some stretch-mouthed Rascal, would (as it were) mean mischief, and break a fowl gap into the Matter, he makes the maid to answer, Whoop, do me no harm good man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm good man.  Pol. 
This is a brave fellow.  Clo. 
Beleeee me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow, has he any unbraided Wares?  Ser. 
He hath Ribbons of all the colours i' th' Rainbow; Points, more than all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' gross: Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrics, Lawns: why he sings 'em over, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would think a Smock were a shee-Angell, he so chants to the sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't:  Clo. 
Prithee bring him in, and let him approach singing.  Perd. 
Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in's tunes.  Clow. 
You have of these Pedlars, that have more in them, than you'd think (Sister.)  Perd. 
I, good brother, or go about to think.  Enter Autolicus singing. 
Lawn as white as driven Snow,  
Cypress black as ere was Crow,  
Gloves as sweet as Damask Roses,  
Masks for faces, and for noses:  
Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,  
Perfume for a Lady's Chamber:  
Golden Quoises, and Stomachers  
For my Lads, to give their deres:  
Pins, and poaking-stickes 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.  Clo. 
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.  Mop. 
I was promised them against the Feast, but they come not too late now.  Dor. 
He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.  Mop. 
He hath paid you all he promised you: ' May be he has paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.  Clo. 
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 kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispering: clamour your tongues, and not a word more.  Mop. 
I have done; Come you promised me a tawdry-lace, and a pair of sweet Gloves.  Clo. 
Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way, and lost all my money.  Aut. 
And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therefore it behoves men to be wary.  Clo. 
Fear not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here  Aut. 
I hope so sir, for I have about me many parcels of charge.  Clo. 
What hast here? Ballads?  Mop. 
Pray now buy some: I love a ballet in print, a life, for than we are sure they are true.  Aut. 
Here's one, to a very doleful tune, how a Usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money bags at a burden, and how she longed to eat Adders heads, and Toads carbonadoed.  Mop. 
Is it true, think you?  Aut. 
Very true, and but a month old.  Dor. 
Bless me from marrying a Usurer.  Aut. 
Here's the Midwives name to't: one Mist. Tale-Porter, and five or six honest Wives, that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad?  Mop. 
Pray you now buy it.  Clo. 
Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see more Ballads: we'll buy the other things anon.  Aut. 
Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared upon the coast, on wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, & 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.  Dor. 
Is it true too, think you.  Autol. 
Five justices hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold.  Clo. 
Lay it by too; another.  Aut. 
This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.  Mop. 
Let's have some merry ones.  Aut. 
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.  Mop. 
We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear, 'tis in three parts.  Dor. 
We had the tune on't, a month ago.  Aut. 
I can bear my part, you must know 'tis my occupation: Have at it with you.  Song 
Get you hence, for I must go  Aut. 
Where it fits not you to know.  Dor. 
Whether?  Mopas 
O Whether?  Dor. 
Whether?  Mop. 
It becomes thy oath full well,  
Thou to me thy secrets tell.  Dor: 
Me too: Le me go thither:  Mopas 
Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,  Dor: 
If to either thou dost ill,  Aut: 
Neither.  Dor: 
What neither?  Aut: 
Neither:  Dor: 
Thou hast sworn my Love to be,  Mopas 
Thou hast sworn it more to me.  
Then whether goest? Say whether?  Clo. 
we'll have this song out anon by ourselves: My Father, and the Gent▪ are in sad talk, & 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.  Aut. 
And you shall pay well for 'em.  Song. 
Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your irpe?  
My dainty Duck, my deere-a?  
Any Silk, any Thread, any Toys for your head  
Of the newsed, and finsed, finsed wearea.  
Come to the Pedlar, Money's a meddler,  
That doth utter all men's ware.  Exit Servant. 
Master, there is three Carters, three Shepherds, three Neatherds, three Swineherds 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' th' mind (if it be not too rough for some, that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully.  Shep. 
Away: we'll none on't; here has been too much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) we weary you.  Pol. 
You weary those that refresh us: pray let's see these foure-threes of Herdsmen.  Ser. 
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 th' squire.  Shep. 
Leave your prating, since these good men are pleased, let them come in: but quickly now.  Ser. 
Why, they stay at door Sir.  here a Dance of twelve Satyrs. Pol. 
O Father, you'll know more of that hereafter:  
Is it not too fare gone? 'Tis time to part them,  
He's simple, and tells much. 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 Shee with knacks: I would have ransacked  
The Pedlar's silken Treasury, and have poured it  
To her acceptance: you have let him go,  
And nothing matted 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.  Flo. 
Old Sir, I know  
She prizes not such trifles as these are:  
The gifts she looks from me, are packed and locked  
up in my heart, which I have given already,  
But not delivered. O hear me breathe my life  
Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seem)  
Hath sometime loved: I take thy hand, this hand,  
As soft as Doves down, and as white as it,  
Or Ethyopians tooth, or the saned snow, that's bolted  
By th' Northern blasts, twice over.  Pol. 
What follows this?  
How prettily th' 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.  Flo. 
Do, and be witness too't.  Pol. 
And this my neighbour too?  Flo. 
And he, and more  
Than he, and men: the earth, the heavens, and all;  
That were I crowned 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 prise them  
Without her Love; for her, employ them all,  
Commend them, and condemn them to her service,  
Or to their own perdition.  Pol. 
Fairly offered.  Cam. 
This shows a sound affection.  Shep. 
But my daughter,  
Say you the like to him.  Pol. 
I cannot speak  
So well, (nothing so well) no, nor mean better  
By th' par●erne of mine own thoughts, I cut out  
The purity of his.  Shep. 
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.  Flo. 
O, that must be  
I' th' 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.  Shep. 
Come, your hand:  
And daughter, yours.  Pol. 
Soft Swain awhile, beseech you,  
Have you a Father?  Flo. 
I have: but what of him?  Pol. 
Knows he of this?  Flo. 
He neither does, nor shall.  Pol. 
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 bedrid? And again, does nothing  
But what he did, being childish?  Flo. 
No good Sir:  
He has his health, and ampler strength indeed  
Then most have of his age.  Pol. 
By my white beard,  
You offer him (if this be so) a wrong  
Something unfilliall: 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.  Flo. 
I yield all this;  
But for some other reasons (my grave Sir)  
Which 'tis not sit you know, I not acquaint  
My Father of this business.  Pol. 
Let him know't.  Flo 
He shall not.  Pol. 
Prithee let him.  Flo 
No, he must not.  Shep. 
Let him (my son) he shall not need to grieve  
At knowing of thy choice.  Flo. 
Come, come, he must not:  
Mark our Contract.  Pol. 
Mark your divorce (young sir)  
Whom son I dare not call: Thou art too base  
To be acknowledge. Thou a Sceptres heir,  
That thus affects a sheephook? 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, whom of force must know  
The royal Fool thou coap'st with.  Shep. 
Oh my heart.  Pol. 
I'll have thy beauty scratched with briers & made  
More homely than thy state. For thee (fond boy)  
If I may ever know thou dost but sigh,  
That thou no more shalt never 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,  
Fare then Deucalion off: (mark thou my words)  
Fellow 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 hope his body more, with thy embraces,  
I will device a death, as cruel for thee  
As thou art tender to't.  Exit. Perd. 
Even here undone:  
I was not much afeared: 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. Wilt 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.  Cam. 
Why how now Father,  
Speak ere thou diest.  Shep. 
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 dye 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. Oh cursed wretch,  
That knewest this was the Prince, and wouldst adventure  
To mingle faith with him. Undone, undone:  
If I might dye within this hour, I have lived  
To die when I desire.  Exit. Flo. 
Why look you so upon me?  
I am but sorry, not afeared: delayed,  
But nothing altered: What I was, I am:  
More straining on, for plucking back; not following  
My leash unwillingly.  Cam. 
Gracious my Lord,  
You know my 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.  Flo. 
I not purpose it:  
I think Camillo.  Cam. 
Even he, my Lord.  Per. 
How often have I told you 'twould be thus?  
How often said my dignity would last  
But till 'twere known?  Flo. 
It cannot fail, but by  
The violation of my faith, and then  
Let Nature crush the sides o' th' earth together,  
And mar the feeds within. Lift up thy looks:  
From my succession wipe me (Father) I  
Am heir to my affection.  Cam. 
Be advised.  Flo. 
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.  Cam. 
This is desperate (sir.)  Flo. 
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 there at gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or  
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas, 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 honoured 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, who here I cannot hold on shore:  
And most opportune to her 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.  Cam. 
O my Lord,  
I would your spirit were easier for advice,  
Or stronger for your need.  Flo. 
Hark Perdita,  
I'll hear you by and by.  Cam. 
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.  Flo. 
Now good Camillo,  
I am so fraught with curious business, that  
I leave out ceremony.  Cam. 
Sir, I think  
You have heard of my poor services, i' th' love  
That I have borne your Father?  Flo. 
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.  Cam. 
Well (my Lord)  
If you may please to think I love the King,  
And through him, what's 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.  Flo. 
How Camillo  
May this (almost a miracle) be done?  
That I may call thee something more than man,  
And after that trust to thee.  Cam. 
Have you thought on  
A place whereto you'll go?  Flo. 
Not any yet:  
But as th' 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.  Cam, 
Then lift 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 there Son forgiveness,  
As 'twere i' th' Father's person: kisses the hands  
Of your fresh Princess; over and over divides him,  
'Twixt his unkindness, and his Kindness: th' one  
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow  
Faster than Thought, or Time.  Flo. 
Worthy Camillo,  
What colour for my Visitation, shall I  
Hold up before him?  Cam. 
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.  Flo. 
I am bound to you:  
There is some sap in this.  Cam. 
A Course more promising,  
Then a wild dedication of yourselves  
To vnpathed Waters, vndreamed 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,  
Prosperitie's the very bond of Love,  
Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,  
Affliction altars.  Perd. 
One of these is true:  
I think Affliction may subdue the Cheek,  
But not take-in the Mind.  Cam. 
Yea? say you so?  
There shall not, at your Father's House, these seven years  
Be borne another such.  Flo. 
My good Camillo,  
She's as forward, of her Breeding, as  
She is i' th' rear ' our Birth.  Cam. 
I cannot say, 'tis pity  
She lacks Instructions, for she seems a Mistress  
To most that teach.  Perd. 
Your pardon Sir, for this,  
I'll blush you Thanks.  Flo. 
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 furnished like Bohemia's Son,  
Nor shall appear in Sicilia.  Cam. 
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.  Enter Autolicus. Aut. 
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, Browch, Table-book, Ballad, Knife, Tape, Glove, Shoe-tie, Bracelet, Horne-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 Petty-toes, 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 would have filled Keys of that hung in Chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargy, I pickd and cut most of their Festival Purses: And had not the old-man come in with a Who-bub against his Daughter, and the King's Son, and scared my Chowghes from the Chaff, I had not left a Purse alive in the whole Army.  Cam. 
Nay, but my Letters by this means being there  
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.  Flo. 
And those that you'll procure from King Leontes?  Cam. 
Shall satisfy your Father.  Perd. 
Happy be you:  
All that you speak, shows fair.  Cam. 
Who have we here?  
we'll make an Instrument of this: omit  
Nothing may give us aid.  Aut. 
If they have overheard me now: why hangging.  Cam. 
How now (good Fellow)  
Why shak'st thou so? Fear not (man)  
Here's no harm intended to thee.  Aut. 
I am a poor Fellow, Sir.  Cam. 
Why, be so still: here's no body will steal that from thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty, we must make an exchange; therefore dis-case 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.  Aut. 
I am a poor Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.)  Cam. 
Nay prithee dispatch: the Gentleman is half fled already.  Aut. 
Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)  Flo. 
Dispatch, I prithee.  Aut. 
Indeed I have had Earnest, but I cannot with conscience take it.  Cam. 
Unbuckle, unbuckle.  
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,  
Dis-mantle 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.  Perd. 
I see the Play so lies,  
That I must bear a part.  Cam. 
No remedy:  
Have you done there?  Flo. 
Should I now meet my Father,  
He would not call me Son.  Cam. 
Nay, you shall have no Hat:  
Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)  Aut. 
Adieu, Sir.  Flo. 
O Perdita: what have we twain forgot?  
Pray you a word.  Cam. 
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.  Flo. 
Fortune speed us:  
Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Seaside.  Cam. 
The swifter speed, the better.  Exit. Aut. 
I understand the business, I hear it: to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a Cutpurse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out work for th' 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.  Enter Clowne and Shepheard. 
Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot brain: Every Lanes 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.  Shep. 
Nay, but hear me.  Clow. 
Nay; but hear me.  Shep. 
Go too then.  Clow. 
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.  Shep. 
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.  Clow. 
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.  Aut. 
Very wisely (Puppies.)  Shep. 
Well: let us to the King: there is that in this Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard.  Aut. 
I know not what impediment this Complaint may be to the flight of my Master.  Clo. 
Pray hearty he be at ' Palace.  Aut. 
Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: Let me pocket up my Pedlar's excrement. How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound?  Shep. 
To th' Palace (and it like your Worship.)  Aut. 
Your Affairs there? what? with whom? the Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling? your names? your ages? of what having? breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known, discover?  Clo. 
We are but plain fellows, Sir.  Aut. 
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 Lye.  Clo. 
Your Worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner.  Shep. 
Are you a Courtier, an't like you Sir?  Aut. 
Whether it lke me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest thou not the air of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receives not thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy Baseness, Court-Contempt? Thinkest thou, for that I insinuate, at 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.  Shep. 
My Business, Sir, is to the King.  Aut. 
What Advocate hast thou to him?  Shep. 
I know not (an't like you.)  Clo. 
advocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say you have none.  Shep. 
None, Sir: I have no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen.  Aut. 
How blessed are we, that are not simple men?  
Yet Nature might have made me as these are,  
Therefore I will not disdain.  Clo. 
This cannot be but a great Courtier.  Shep. 
His Garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.  Clo. 
He seems to be the more Noble, in being fantastical: A great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking on's Teeth.  Aut. 
The Farthell there? What's i' th' Farthell? Wherefore that Box?  Shep. 
Sir, there lies such Secrets in this Farthell and Box, which none must know but the King, and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to th' speech of him.  Aut. 
Age, thou hast lost thy labour.  Shep. 
Why Sir?  Aut. 
The King is not at the Palace, he is gone aboard a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and air himself: for if thou be'st capable of things serious, thou must know the King is full of grief.  Shep. 
So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Son, that should have married a Shepherd's Daughter.  Aut. 
If that Shepherd be not in handfast, let him fly; the Curses he shall have, the Tortures he shall feel, will break the back of Man, the heart of Monster.  Clo. 
Think you so, Sir?  Aut. 
Not he alone shall suffer what Wit can make heavy, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are jermaine to him (though removed fifty times) shall all come under the Hangman: which, though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old Sheepe-whistiing 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-Coat? all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.  Clo. 
Has the old-man ere a Son Sir (do you hear) an't like you, Sir?  Aut. 
He has a Son: who shall be flayed alive, than ' anointed 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 Aquavite, or some other hot Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hottest day Prognostication proclaims) shall he be set against a Brickwall, (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 behalves; and if it be in man, besides the King, to effect your Suits, here is man shall do it.  Clow. 
He seems to be of great authority: close with him, give him Gold; and though Authority be a stubborn Beare, 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 ●on'd, and stayed alive.  Shep. 
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.  Aut. 
After I hate done what I promised?  Shep. 
I Sir.  Aut. 
Well, give me the Mo●: Are you a party in this Business?  Clow. 
In so●e sort, Sir: but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not ●s ●d out o● it.  Aut. 
Oh, that's the case 〈◊〉 the Shepherd's Son: hang him, he'll be ma● a● exile.  Clow. 
Comfort ●ood co●. We must to the King, and she ●our strange sights: ●●st know 'tis none of your Daughter my 〈…〉 are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does when the Business i● pursued, and remain (as he says) your pawn till it be brought you.  Aut. 
I will trust you. Walk before toward the Seaside, go on the right hand, I will but look upon the Hedge, and follow you.  Clow. 
We are blessed, in this man: as I may say, even blessed.  Shep. 
Let's before, as he bids us: he was provided to do us good.  Aut. 
If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer m●●sh● d●s 〈◊〉 in my mouth. I am courted now with a double ●sion: (Gold, and a means to do the Prince my Master ●od▪ which, who knows how that may turn back to 〈◊〉 uncement?) I will bring these too M●aie●, t●e ●d-ones, aboard him▪ if he think it ●it to shore th● again, and that the Complaint they have ●o 〈◊〉 King▪ concerns him nothing, let him call me Rogue, ●o● being 〈◊〉 fare officious, for I am proof against that side, and what shame else belongs to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in it.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Leontes, Cleomines, Dion, Paulina, Servants: Florizel, Perdita. Cleo. 
Sir, you have done enough, and have performed  
A Saintlike Sorrow: No fault could you make,  
Which you have not redeemed; indeed paid down  
More penitence▪ than done trespass: At the last  
Do as the Heavens have done; forget your evil,  
With them, forgive yourself.  Leo. 
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 Heirelesse it hath made my Kingdom, and  
Destroyed the sweetest Companion, that ere man  
Bred his hopes out of true.  Paul. 
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 killed,  
Would be vnparallelled.  Leo. 
I think so. Killed?  
She I killed? I did so: but thou strik'st me  
Sorely, to say I did: it is as bitter  
Upon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now,  
Say so but seldom.  Cleo. 
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.  Paul. 
You are one of those  
Would have him wed again.  Dio. 
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,  
Then to rejoice the former Queen is well?  
What holier, then for Royalties repair,  
For present comfort, and for future good,  
To bless the Bed of Majesty again  
With a sweet Fellow to't?  Paul. 
There is none worthy,  
(Respecting her that's gone:) besides the Gods  
Will have fulfilled 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,  
I● all as monstrous to our humane reason,  
As my Antigonus to break his Grave,  
And come again to me: who, on my life,  
Did perish with the Infant. 'Tis your council,  
My Lord should to the Heavens be contrary,  
Oppose against their wills. Care not for Issue,  
The Crown will find an Heir. Great Alexander  
Left his to th' Worthiest: so his Successor  
Was like to be the best.  Leo. 
Good Paulina,  
Who hast the memory of Hermione  
I know in honour: O, that ever I  
Had squared me to thy council: then, even now,  
I might have looked upon my Queen's full eyes,  
Have taken Treasure from her Lips.  Paul. 
And left them  
More rich, for what they yielded.  Leo. 
Thou speakest 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 Offenders now appear) Soule-vext,  
And begin, why to me?  Paul. 
Had she such power,  
She had just such cause.  Leo. 
She had, and would incense me  
To murder her I married.  Paul. 
I should so:  
Were I the Ghost that walked, I'd bid you mark  
Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't  
You chose her: then I'd shrieke, that even your ears  
Should rift to hear me, and the words that followed,  
Should be, Remember mine.  Leo. 
Stars, Stars,  
And all eyes else, dead coals: fear thou no Wife;  
I'll have no Wife, Paulina.  Paul. 
Will you swear  
Never to marry, but by my free leave?  Leo. 
Never (Paulina) so be blessed my Spirit.  Paul. 
Then good my Lords, bear witness to his Oath.  Cleo. 
You tempt him overmuch.  Paul. 
Unless another,  
As like Hermione, as is her Picture,  
Affront his eye.  Cleo. 
Good Madame, I have done.  Paul. 
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 (walked your first Queen's Ghost) it should take joy  
To see her in your arms.  Leo. 
My true Paulina,  
We shall not marry, till thou bidst us.  Paul. 
That  
Shall be when your first Queen's again in breath:  
Never till then.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
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.  Leo. 
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?  Ser. 
But few,  
And those but mean.  Leo. 
His Princess (say you) with him?  Ser. 
I: the most peerless piece of Earth, I think,  
That ere the Sun shone bright on.  Paul. 
Oh 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 equalled, thus your Verse  
Flowed with her Beauty once; 'tis shrewdly ebbed,  
To say you have seen a better.  Ser. 
Pardon, Madame:  
The one, I have almost forgot (your pardon:)  
The other, when she has obtained 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.  Paul. 
How? not women?  Ser. 
Women will love her, that she is a Woman  
More worth than any Man: Men, that she is  
The rarest of all Women.  Leo. 
Go Cleomines,  
Yourself (assisted with your honoured Friends)  
Bring them to our embracement. Still 'tis strange,  
He thus should steal upon us.  Exit. Paul. 
Had our Prince  
(jewel of Children) seen this hour, he had paired  
Well with this Lord; there was not full a month  
Between their births.  Leo. 
Prithee no more; cease: thou knowst  
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  
Vnfurnish me of Reason. They are come.  Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleomines, and others. 
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 performed before. Most dear welcome,  
And your fair Princess (Goddess) oh: 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.  Flo. 
By his command  
Have I here touched 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 wished Ability, he had himself  
The Lands and Waters, 'twixt your Throne and his,  
Measured, to look upon you; whom he love's  
(He bade me say so) more than all the Sceptres,  
And those that bear them, living.  Leo. 
Oh 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 behindhand slackness. Welcome hither,  
As is the Spring to th' Earth. And hath he too  
Exposed this Paragon to th' fearful usage  
(At least ungentle) of the dreadful Neptune,  
To greet a man, not worth her pains; much less,  
Th' adventure of her person?  Flo. 
Good my Lord,  
She came from Libya.  Leo. 
Where the Warlike Smalus,  
That Noble honoured Lord, is feared, and loved?  Flo. 
Most Royal Sir,  
From thence: from him, whose Daughter  
His Tears proclaimed his parting with her: thence  
(A prosperous Southwind friendly) we have crossed,  
To execute the Charge my Father gave me,  
For visiting your Highness: My best Train  
I have from your Sicilian Shores dismissed;  
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify  
Not only my success in Libya (Sir)  
But my arrival, and my Wives, in safety  
Here, where we are.  Leo. 
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 blessed  
(As he from Heaven merits it) with you,  
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,  
Might I a Son and Daughter now have looked 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.  Leo. 
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.  Flo. 
Camillo has betrayed me;  
Whose honour, and whose honesty till now,  
Endured all Wethers.  Lord. 
Lay't so to his charge:  
He's with the King your Father.  Leo. 
Who? Camillo?  Lord. 
Camillo (Sir:) I spoke 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 diverse deaths, in death.  Perd. 
Oh my poor Father:  
The Heaven sets Spies upon us, will not have  
Our Contract celebrated.  Leo. 
You are married?  Flo. 
We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be:  
The Stars (I see) will kiss the Valleys first:  
The odds for high and lows alike.  Leo. 
My Lord,  
Is this the Daughter of a King?  Flo. 
She is,  
When once she is my Wife.  Leo. 
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.  Flo. 
Dear, look up:  
Though Fortune, visible an Enemy,  
Should chase us, with my Father; pour no jot  
Hath she to change our Loves. Beseech you (Sir)  
Remember, since you owed no more to Time  
Then I do now: with thought of such Affections,  
Stop forth mine Advocate: at your request,  
My Father will grant precious things, as Trifles.  Leo. 
Would he do so. I'd beg your precious Mistress,  
Which he counts but a Trifle.  Paul. 
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.  Leo. 
I thought of her,  
Even in these Looks I made. But your Petition  
Is yet unanswered: 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.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Autolicus, and a Gentleman. Aut. 
Beseech you (Sir) were you present at this Relation?  Gent. 1. 
I was by at the opening of the Farthell, 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 (me thought) I heard the Shepherd say, he found the Child.  Aut. 
I would most gladly know the issue of it.  Gent. 1. 
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 th' importance were I●y, or Sorrow; but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be.  Enter another Gentleman. 
Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knows more: The News, Rogero.  Gent. 2. 
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 another 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?  Gent. 3. 
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 Hermiones: 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?  Gent. 2. 
No.  Gent. 3. 
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 Countenance of such distraction, that they were to be known by Garment, not by favor. 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, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then asks Bohemia forgiveness, then embraces his Son-in-law: then again worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her. Now he thanks the old Shepherd (which stands by, like a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many King's Reigns.) I never heard of such another Encounter; which lame Report to follow it, and vndo's description to do it.  Gent. 2. 
What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the Child?  Gent. 3. 
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.  Gent. 1. 
What became of his Bark, and his Followers?  Gent. 3. 
Wracked 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 loft, when it was found. But oh 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.  Gent. 1. 
The Dignity of this Act was worth the audience of Kings and Princes, for by such was it acted.  Gent. 3. 
One of the prettyest 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 swownded, all sorrowed: if all the World could have seen't, the Woe had been universal.  Gent. 1. 
Are they returned to the Court?  Gent. 3. 
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 Romaeno, 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 intent to Sup.  Gent. 2. 
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?  Gent. 1. 
Who would be thence, that has the benefit of Access? every wink of an Eye, some new Grace will be borne: our Absence makes us unthrifty to our Knowledge. Let's along.  Exit. Aut. 
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 Farthell, 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 Shepheard and Clown. 
Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their Fortune.  Shep. 
Come Boy, I am passed more Children: but thy Sons and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne.  Clow. 
You are well met (Sir.) you denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no Gentleman borne. See you these Clothes? say you see them not, and think me still no Gentleman borne: You were best say these Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Give me the Lie: do: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman borne.  Aut. 
I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne.  Clow. 
I, and have been so any time these four hours.  Shep. 
And so have I, Boy.  Clow. 
So you have: but I was a Gentleman borne 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 mv Father, Father; and so we wept: and there was the first Gentlemanlike tears that ever we shed.  Shep. 
We may live (Son) to shed many more.  Clow. 
I: or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are.  Aut. 
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.  Shep. 
Prithee Son do: for we must be gentle, now we are Gentlemen.  Clow. 
Thou wilt amend thy life?  Ant. 
I, and it like your good Worship.  Clow. 
Give me thy hand: I will swear to the Prince, thou art as honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia.  Shep. 
You may say it, but not swear it.  Clow. 
Not swear it, now I am a Gentleman? Let Boors and Francklins' say it, I'll swear it.  Shep. 
How if it be false (Son?)  Clow. 
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.  Aut. 
I will prove so (Sir) to my power.  Clow. 
I, 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.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina: Hermione (like a Statue:) Lords, etc. Leo. 
O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort  
That I have had of thee?  Paul. 
What (Sovereign Sir)  
I did not well, I meant well: all my Services  
You have paid home. But that you have vouchsafed  
(With your Crowned 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.  Leo. 
O Paulina,  
We honour you with trouble: but we came  
To see the Statue of our Queen. Your Gallery  
Have we passed 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.  Paul. 
As she lived peerless,  
So her dead likeness I do well believe  
Excels what ever yet you looked upon,  
Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keep it  
Lovely, apart. But here it is: prepare  
To see the Life as lively mocked, as ever  
Still Sleep mocked Death: behold, and say 'tis well.  
I like your silence, it the more shewes-off  
Your wonder: but yet speak, first you (my Liege)  
Comes it not something near?  Leo. 
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.  Pol. 
Oh, not by much.  Paul. 
So much the more our Carver's excellence.  
Which lets goe-by some sixteen years, and makes her  
As she lived now.  Leo. 
As now she might have done,  
So much to my good comfort, as it is  
Now piercing to my Soul. Oh, thus she stood,  
Even with such Life of Majesty (warm Life,  
As now it coldly stands) when first I wooed her.  
I am ashamed: Does not the Stone rebuke me,  
For being more Stone than it? Oh 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.  Perd. 
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.  Paul. 
O, patience:  
The Statue is but newly fixed; the Colour's  
Not dry.  Cam. 
My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on,  
Which sixteen Winters cannot blow away,  
So many Summer's dry: scarce any joy  
Did ever so long live; no Sorrow,  
But killed itself much sooner.  Pol. 
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.  Paul. 
Indeed my Lord,  
If I had thought the sight of my poor Image  
Would thus have wrought you (for the Stone is mine)  
I'd not have showed it.  Leo. 
Do not draw the Curtain.  Paul. 
No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your Fancy  
May think anon, it moves.  Leo. 
Let be, let be:  
Would I were dead, but that me thinks 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?  Pol. 
‛ Masterly done:  
The very Life seems warm upon her Lip.  Leo. 
The fixure of her Eye has motion in't,  
As we are mocked with Art.  Paul. 
I'll draw the Curtain:  
My Lord's almost so fare transported, that  
he'll think anon it life's.  Leo. 
Oh sweet Paulina,  
Make me to think so twenty years together:  
No settled Senses of the World can match  
The pleasure of that madness. Leted alone.  Paul. 
I am sorry (Sir) I have thus fare stirred you: but  
I could afflict you farther.  Leo. 
Do Paulina:  
For this Affliction has a taste as sweet  
As any Cordial comfort. Still me thinks  
There is an air comes from her. What fine Chizzell  
Can ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,  
For I will kiss her.  Paul. 
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.  Leo. 
No: not these twenty years.  Perd. 
So long could I  
Standby, a looker-on.  Paul. 
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 than you'll think  
(Which I protest against) I am assisted  
By wicked Powers.  Leo. 
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.  Paul. 
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 departed.  Leo. 
Proceed:  
No foot shall stir.  Paul. 
Music; awake her: Strike:  
'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:  
Start not: her Actions shall be holy, as  
You hear my Spell is lawful: do not shun her,  
Until you see her dye again; for than  
You kill her double: Nay, present your Hand:  
When she was young, you wooed her: now, in age,  
Is she become the Suitor?  Leo. 
Oh, she's warm:  
If this be Magic, let it be an Art  
Lawful as Eating.  Pol. 
She embraces him.  Cam. 
She hangs about his neck,  
If she pertain to life, let her speak too.  Pol. 
I, and make it manifest where she has lived,  
Or how stolen from the dead?  Paul. 
That she is living,  
Were it but told you, should be hooted at  
Like an old Tale: but it appears she life's,  
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.  Her. 
You Gods look down,  
And from your sacred Viols 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.  Paul. 
There's ttme enough for that,  
Left 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 withered bough, and there  
My Mate (that's never to be found again)  
Lament, till I am lost.  Leo. 
O peace Paulina:  
Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,  
As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,  
And made betweene's by Vows. Thou hast found mine,  
But how, is to be questioned: for I saw her  
(As I thought) dead: and have (in vain) said many  
A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek fair  
(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 ere I put between your holy looks  
My ill suspicion: This your Son-in-law,  
And Son unto the King, whom heavens directing  
Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,  
Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely  
Each one demand, and answer to his part  
Performed in this wide gap of Time, since first  
We were dissevered: Hastily lead away.  Exeunt.   

The Names of the Actors.  

LEontes, King of Sicilia.  
Mamillus, young Prince of Sicilia.  
Camillo. Four Lords of Sicilia.  
Antigonus. Four Lords of Sicilia.  
Cleomines. Four Lords of Sicilia.  
Dion. Four Lords of Sicilia.  
Hermione, Queen to Leontes.  
Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.  
Paulina, wife to Antigonus'.  
Emilia, a Lady.  
Polixenes, King of Bohemia.  
Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.  
Old Shepherd, reputed Father of Perdita.  
Clown, his Son.  
Autolicus, a Rogue.  
Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia.  
Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Servants.  
Shepherds, and Shephearddesses.    
FINIS.   

The life and death of King john.  

Actus Primus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter King john, Queen Elinor, Pembroke; Essex, and Salisbury, with the Chattylion of France. King john. 
NOw say Chatillon, what would France with us?  Chat. 
Thus (after greeting) speaks the King of France,  
In my behaviour to the Majesty▪  
The borrowed Majesty of England here.  Elea. 
A strange beginning: borrowed Majesty?  K. john. 
Silence (good mother) hear the Embassy.  Chat. 
Philip of France, in right and true behalf  
Of thy deceased brother, Geffreyes' son,  
Arthur Plantagines, lays most lawful claim  
To this fair Island, and the Territories:  
To Ireland, Poitiers, Aniowe, Torayne, Maine,  
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword  
Which sways usurpingly these several titles,  
And put the same into young Arthur's hand,  
Thy Nephew, and right royal Sovereign▪  K. john. 
What follows if we disallow of this?  Chat. 
The proud control of fierce and bloody war,  
To enforce these rights, so forcibly withheld,  K. Io. 
here have we what for war, & blood for blood,  
Controlment for controlment▪ so answer France.  Chat. 
Then take my King's defiance from my mouth,  
The farthest limit of my Embassy.  K. john. 
Bear mine to him, and so departed 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 wraths  
And sullen presage of your own decay;  
An honourable conduct let him have,  
Pembroke look too't farewell Chattillion.  Exit Chat, and Pem Ele. 
What now my son, have I not ever said  
How that ambitious Constance would not coast  
Till she had kindled France and all the world,  
Upon the right and party of her son.  
This might have been prevened, and made whole  
With very easy arguments of love,  
Which now the mannage of two kingdoms must  
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate,  K. john. 
Out strong possession, and our right for us,  Eli. 
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 the Country to be judged by you  
That ere I heard: shall I produce the men?  K. john. 
Let them approach:  
Our Abbeys and our Priories shall pay  
This expeditious charge what men are you?  Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip. Philip. 
Your faithful subject, I a gentleman,  
Borne in Northamptonshire, and eldest son  
As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge,  
A Soldier by the Honor-giving-hand  
Of Cordelion, Knighted in the field.  K. john. 
What art thou?  Robert. 
The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge.  K. john. 
Is that the elder, and art thou the heir?  
You came not of one mother than it seems.  Philip. 
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.  Eli. 
Out on thee rude man, thou dost shame thy mother,  
And wound her honour with this diffidence.  Phil. 
I Madame? 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.  K. john. 
A good blunt fellow: why being younger born  
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?  Phil. 
I know not why, except to get the land:  
But once he slandered me with bastardy:  
But where 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 thankes I was not like to thee.  K. john. 
Why what a madcap hath heaven lent us here?  Elen. 
He hath a trick of Cordelion'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?  K. john. 
Mine eye hath well examined his parts,  
And finds them perfect Richard: sirrah speak,  
What doth move you to claim your brothers l●d.  Philip. 
Because he hath a half- 〈◊〉 like my 〈◊〉  
With half that face would he have all my ●and  
A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year.  Rob. 
My gracious Liege; when that my father lived,  
Your brother did employ my father much.  Phil. 
Well sir, by this you cannot get my land,  
Your tale must be how he employed my mother▪  Rob. 
And once dispatched him in an Embassy  
To Germany, there with the Emperor  
To treat of high affairs touching that time:  
Th' advantage of his absence took the King,  
And in the mean time sojourned at my fathers;  
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 deathbed he by will bequeathed  
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.  K. 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 claimed this son for his,  
Insooth, good friend, your father might have kept  
This Calf, bred from his Cow from all the world:  
Insooth he might: then if he were my brothers,  
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.  Rob. 
Shall then my fathers Will be of no force,  
To dispossess that child which is not his.  Phil. 
Of no more force to dispossess me sir,  
Then was his will to get me, as I think.  Eli. 
Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge,  
And like thy brother to enjoy thy land:  
Or the reputed son of Cordelion,  
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside.  Bast. 
Madam, and if my brother had my shape  
And I had his, sir Roberts his like him,  
And if my legs were two such riding rods,  
My arms, such eel skin's stuffed, 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:  
It would not be sir nobbe in any case.  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.  Bast. 
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.  Elinor. 
Nay, I would have you go before me thither.  Bast. 
Our Country manners give our betters way.  K. john. 
What i● thy name?  Bast. 
Philip ●y Liege, so is my name begun, Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son.  K. john. 
From henceforth bear his name  
Whose for me thou bearest:  
Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great,  
Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.  Bast. 
Brother by th' mother's side, give me your hand,  
My father gave me honour, yours gave land:  
Now blessed be the hour by night or day  
When I was got, Sir Robert was away.  Ele. 
The very spirit of Plantagenet:  
I am thy grandam Richard, call me so.  Bast. 
Madam by chance, but not by truth, what tho;  
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, how ever men do catch:  
near or fare off well won is still well shot,  
And I am I, how ere I was begot.  K. 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.  Bast. 
Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee,  
For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty.  Exeunt all but bastard. Bast. 
A foot of Honour better than I was,  
But many a many foot of Land the worse.  
Well, now can I make any joane 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 two 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 Alpes and Apennineses,  
The Perennean and the river Poe,  
It draws toward fupper 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 smoke 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?  
O me, 'tis my mother: how now good Lady,  
What brings you here to Court so hastily?  Enter Lady Faulconbridge and james Gurney. Lady. 
Where is that slave thy brother? where is he?  
That holds in chase mine honour up and down.  Bast. 
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. 
Sir Robert's son, I thou unreverend boy,  
Sir Robert's son? why scornest thou at sir Robert?  
He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou.  Bast. 
james Gournie, wilt thou give us leave a while?  Gour. 
Good leave good Philip.  Bast. 
Philip, sparrow, james,  
There's toys abroad, anon I'll tell thee more.  Exit James. 
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  
Can 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. 
Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,  
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour?  
What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?  Bast. 
Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like:  
What, I am dubbed, I have it on my shoulder:  
But mother, I am not Sir Robert's son,  
I have disclaimed 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. 
Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?  Bast. 
As faithfully as I deny the devil.  Lady. 
King Richard Cordelion 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,  
That art the issue of my dear offence  
Which was so strongly urged past my defence.  Bast. 
Now by this light were I ●o 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 awlesse 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: aye my mother,  
With all my heart I thank thee for my father:  
Who life's 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.  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Dauphin, Austria, Constance, Arthur. Lewis. 
Before Angiers well met brave Austria,  
Arthur that great forerunner of thy blood,  
Richard that robbed 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.  Arth. 
God shall forgive you Cordelion's death  
The rather, that you give his offspring life,  
Shadowing their right under your wings of war:  
I give you welcome with a powerlesse 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?  Aust. 
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.  Const. 
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.  Aust. 
The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords  
In such a just and charitable war.  King. 
Well, then to work our Cannon shall be bend  
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 marketplace in Frenchman's blood,  
But we will make it subject to this boy.  Con. 
Stay for an answer to your Embassy,  
Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood,  
My Lord Chattilion 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 Chattilion. King. 
A wonder Lady: lo upon thy wish  
Our Messenger Chattilion is arrived,  
What England says, say briefly gentle Lord,  
We coldly pause for thee, Chatilion speak,  Chat. 
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 stayed, 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 Ace stirring him to blood and strife,  
With her her Niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain,  
With them a Bastard of the Kings deceased,  
And all th' unsettled humours of the Land,  
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,  
With Lady's faces, and fierce Dragon's spleens,  
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,  
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,  
To make a hazard of new fortunes here:  
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits  
Then now the English bottoms have waft o'er,  
Did never float upon the swelling tide,  
To do offence and scathe in Christendom:  
The interruption of their churlish drums  
Cuts off more circumstance, they are at hand,  Drum beats. 
To parley or to fight, therefore prepare.  Kin. 
How much unlooked for, is this expedition.  Aust. 
By how much unexpected, by so much  
We must awake endeavour for defence,  
For courage mounteth with occasion,  
Let them be welcome then, we are prepared.  Enter K. of England, Bastard, Queen, Blanch, Pembroke, and others. K. 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 Gods wrathful agent do correct  
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven.  Fran. 
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 fare,  
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful King,  
Cut off the sequence of posterity,  
Outfaced Infant State, and done a rape  
Upon the maiden virtue of the Crown:  
Look here upon thy brother Geffreyes' 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 borne,  
And this his son, England was Geoffrey's right,  
And this is Geffreyes' in the name of God:  
How comes it then that thou art called a King,  
When living blood doth in these temples beat  
Which own the crown, that thou ore-masterest?  K. john. 
From whom hast thou this great commission  
To draw my answer from thy Articles?  Fra. 
From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts France,  
In any beast 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.  K. john. 
Alack thou dost usurp authority.  Fran. 
Excuse it is to beat usurping down.  Queen. 
Who is it thou dost call usurper France?  Const. 
Let me make answer: thy usurping son.  Queen. 
Out insolent, thy bastard shall be King,  
That thou mayst be a Queen, and check the world.  Con. 
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  
Then 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, and if thou wert his mother.  Queen. 
There's a good mother boy, that blots thy father  Const. 
There's a good grandam boy  
That would blot thee.  Aust. 
Peace.  Bast. 
Hear the Crier.  Aust. 
What the devil art thou?  Bast. 
One that will play the devil sir with you,  
And 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 and I catch you right,  
Sirrah look too't, i'faith I will, i'faith.  Blan. 
O well did he become that Lion's robe,  
That did disrobe the Lion of that robe.  Bast. 
It lies as sightly on the back of him  
As great Alcides' shoes upon an Ass:  
But Ass, I'll take that burden from your back,  
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.  Aust. 
What cracker is this same that deafs our ears  
With this abundance of superfluous breath?  
King Lewis, determine what we shall do straight.  Lew. 
Women & fools, break off your conference.  
King john, this is the very sum of all:  
England and Ireland, Angiers, Touraine, Maine,  
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee:  
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy Arms?  john. 
My life as soon: I do defy thee France,  
Arthur of Britain, yield thee to my hand,  
And out of my dear love I'll give thee more,  
Then ere the coward hand of France can win;  
Submit thee boy.  Queen. 
Come to thy grandam child.  Co●s. 
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.  Qu. Mo. 
His mother shames him so, poor boy he weeps.  Con. 
Now shame upon you where she does or no,  
His grandame'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:  
I, with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed  
To do him justice, and revenge on you.  Qu. 
Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth.  Con. 
Thou monstrous of 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 eldest sons 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 sinne-conceiving womb.  john. 
Beadle have done.  Con. 
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, plagued for her,  
And with her plague her sin: his injury  
Her injury the Beadle to her sin,  
All punished 〈◊〉 the person of this child,  
And all for her, a plague upon her.  Que. 
Thou unadvised scold, I can produce  
A Will, that bars the title of thy son.  Con. 
I who doubts that, a Will: a wicked will,  
A woman's will, a cankered Grandams will.  Fra. 
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 johns.  Trumpet sounds. Enter a Citizen upon the walls. Cit 
Who is it that hath warned us to the walls?  Fra. 
'Tis France, for England.  john. 
England for itself:  
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects.  Fra. 
You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,  
Our Trumpet called you to this gentle parley.  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 marched to your endamagement.  
The Canons 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  
And merciless proceeding, by these French.  
Comfort yours City's eyes, your winking gates:  
And but for our approach, those sleeping stones,  
That as a waste 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 counter-cheeke before your gates,  
To save vnscratched your City's threatened cheeks:  
Behold the French amazed vouchsafe a parley,  
And now instead of bullets wrapped 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 laboured spirits  
Forewearied in this action of swift speed,  
Craves harbourage within your City walls.  France. 
When I have said, make answer to us both.  
Lo in this right hand, whose protection  
Is most divinely vowed upon the right  
Of him it holds, stands young Pl●tagen●s,  
Son to the elder brother of this man,  
And King o'er him, and all that he enjoys:  
For this downe-troden equity, we tread  
In warlike march, these greene's before your Town,  
Being no further enemy to you  
Then the constraint of hospitable zeal,  
In the relief of this oppressed child,  
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then  
To pay that duty which you truly own,  
To him that owes it, namely, this young Prince,  
And then our Arms, like to a muzzled Bear,  
Save in aspect, hath all offence sealed up:  
Our Cannon's malice vainly shall be spent  
Against th' involuerable clouds of heaven,  
And with a blessed and unvexed retire,  
With vnhacked 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 fond pass our proffered offer,  
'Tis not the rounder of your old-faced walls,  
Can hide you from our messengers of War,  
Though all these English, and their discipline  
Were harboured 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?  Cit 
In brief, we are the King of England's subjects  
For him, and in his right, we hold this Town.  john. 
Acknowledge then the King, and let me in.  Cit 
That can we not: but he that proves the King  
To him will we prove loyal, till that time  
Have we rammed up our gates against the world.  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.  Bast. 
Bastards and else.  john. 
To verify our title with their lives.  Fran. 
As many and as well-born bloods as those.  Bast. 
Some Bastards too.  Fran. 
Stand in his face to contradict his claim.  Cit 
Till you compound whose right is worthiest,  
We for the worthiest hold the right from both.  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 kingdoms King.  Fran. 
Amen, Amen, mount Chevaliers to Arms.  Bast. 
Saint George that swindged the Dragon,  
And ere since sits on's horseback at mine Hostess door  
Teach us some fence. Sirrah, were I at home  
At your den sirrah, with your Lioness,  
I would set an Ox-head to your Lions hide:  
And make a monster of you.  Aust. 
Peace, no more.  Bast. 
O tremble: for you hear the Lion roar.  john. 
Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth  
In best appointment all our Regiments.  Bast. 
Speed then to take advantage of the field.  Fra. 
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. F. Her. 
You men of Angiers open wide your gates,  
And let young Arthur Duke of Britain 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 discoloured earth,  
And victory with little loss doth play  
Upon the dancing banners of the French,  
Who are at hand triumphantly displayed  
To enter Conquerors, and to proclaim  
Arthur of Britain, England's King, and yours.  Enter English Herald with Trumpet. E. Har. 
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 marched hence so silver bright,  
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmens 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 marched forth:  
And like a jolly troop of Huntsmen come  
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,  
Died in the dying slaughter of their foes,  
Open your gates, and give the Victor's way.  Hubert. 
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 matched 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.  Enter the two Kings with their powers, at several doors. john. 
France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?  
Say, shall the currant of our right room on,  
Whose passage vexed with thy impediment,  
Shall leave his native channel, and o'erswell  
with course disturbed even thy confining shores,  
Unless thou let his silver Water, keep  
A peaceful progress to the Ocean.  Fra. 
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 overlookes,  
Before we will lay down our iust-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 wars loss,  
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.  Bast. 
Ha' Majesty: how high thy glory towers,  
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire:  
Oh 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 vndetermined 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 others peace: till then, blows, blood, and death.  john. 
Whose party do the Townsmen yet admit?  Fra. 
Speak Citizens for England, whos's your king.  Hub. 
The king of England, when we know the king.  Fra. 
Know him in us, that here hold up his right.  john. 
In Us, that are our own great Deputy,  
And bear possession of our Person here▪  
Lord of our presence Angiers, and of you.  Fra. 
A greater power then▪ We denies all this,  
And till it be undoubted, we do lock  
Our former scruple in our strong barred gates:  
Kings of our fear, until our fears resolved  
Be by some certain king, purged and deposed.  Bast. 
By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you kings,  
And stand securely on their battelments,  
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 Canon charged to the mouths,  
Till their soule-fearing clamours have brauled down  
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous City,  
I'd 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.  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 with the ground,  
Then after fight who shall be king of it?  Bast. 
And 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 dashed them to the ground,  
Why then defy each other, and pellmell,  
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.  Fra. 
Let it be so: say, where will you assault?  john. 
We from the West will send destruction  
Into this City's bosom.  Aust. 
I from the North.  Fran. 
Our Thunder from the South,  
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this Town.  Bast. 
O prudent discipline! From North to South:  
Austria and France shoot in each others mouth.  
I'll stir them to it: Come, away, away.  Hub. 
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 dye in beds,  
That here come sacrifices for the field.  
Persever not, but hear me mighty kings.  john. 
Speak on with favour, we are bend to hear.  Hub. 
That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch  
Is near to England, look upon the years  
Of jews the Dolphin, and that lovely maid.  
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,  
Where should he find it fairer, the● in Blanch:  
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,  
Where should he find i● purer than in Blanch?  
If love ambitious, sought a match of birth,  
Whose veins bond richer blood than Lady Blanch?  
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,  
Is the young Dolphin 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 halfepart o● a blessed man,  
Left to be finished by such as she,  
And she a fair divided excellence,  
Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.  
O two such silver currents when they join  
Do glorify the banks that bond 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 sling wide open,  
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 mortal fury half so peremptory,  
As we to keep this City.  Bast. 
here's a stay,  
That shakes the rotten carcase 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 puppi-dogges.  
What Cannoneere begot this lusty blood,  
He speaks plain Cannon fire, and smoke, and bounce,  
He gives the bastinado with his tongue:  
Our ears are cudgeled, not a word of his  
But buffets better than a fist of France:  
Zounds, I was never so bethumpt with words,  
Since I first called my brother's father Dad.  Old Qu. 
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 vnsured assurance to the Crown,  
That you 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.  Hub. 
Why answer not the double Majesties,  
This friendly treaty of our threatened Town.  Fra. 
Speak England first, that hath been forward first  
To speak unto this City: what say you?  john. 
If that the Dolphin there thy Princely son,  
Can in this book of beauty read, I love:  
Her Dowry shall weigh equal with a Queen:  
For Angiers, and fair Touraine Maine, Poitiers,  
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.  Fra. 
What sayst thou boy? look in the Lady's face.  Dol. 
I do my Lord, and in her eye I find  
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,  
The shadow of myself formed in her eye,  
Which being but the shadow of your son,  
Becomes a son 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. Bast. 
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye,  
Hanged in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,  
And quartered in her heart, he doth espy  
Himself love's traitor, this is pity now;  
That hanged, and drawn, and quartered there should be  
In such a love, so vile a Lout as he.  Blan. 
My uncle's will in this respect is mine,  
If he see aught in you that makes him like,  
That any thing he see's 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,  
Then this, that nothing do I see in you,  
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge,  
That I can find, should merit any hate.  john. 
What say these yong-ones? What say you my Niece?  Blan. 
That she is bound in honour still to do  
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.  john. 
Speak then Prince Dolphin, can you love this Lady?  Dol. 
Nay ask me if I can refrain from love,  
For I do love her most unfeignedly.  john. 
Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,  
Poitiers, 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 daughtet to join hands.  Fra. 
It likes us well young Princes: close your hands  Aust. 
And your lips too, for I am well assured,  
That I did so when I was first assured.  Fra. 
Now Citizens of Angires open your gates,  
Let in that amity which you have made,  
For at Saint Mary's Chapel presently,  
The rights of marriage shallbe solemnised.  
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?  Dol. 
She is sad and passionate at your highness Tent.  Fra. 
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 turned another way,  
To our own vantage.  john. 
We will heal up all,  
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britain  
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 unlooked for unprepared pomp.  Exeunt. Bast. 
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 Gods 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 breake-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 poised 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,  
Clapped 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 wooed 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.   

Actus Secundus  Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury. Con. 
Gone to be married? Gone to swear a peace?  
False blood to false blood joined. Gone to be friends?  
Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those Provinces?  
It is not so, thou hast mispoke, misheard,  
Be well advised, tell over 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 punished for thus frighting me,  
For I am sick, and capable of fears,  
Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears,  
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears,  
A woman naturally borne to fears;  
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest  
With my vexed 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.  Sal. 
As true as I believe you think them false,  
That give you cause to prove my saying true.  Con. 
Oh if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,  
Teach thou this sorrow, how to make me dye,  
And let belief, and life encounter so,  
As doth the fury of two desperate men,  
Which in the very meeting fall, and dye.  
jews 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.  Sal. 
What other harm have I good Lady done.  
But spoke the harm, that is by others done?  Con. 
Which harm within itself so heinous is,  
As it makes harmful all that speak of it.  Ar. 
I do beseech you Madam be content.  Con. 
If thou that bidst 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,  
Patched with foul Moles, and eye-offending marks,  
I would not care, I then would be content,  
For than 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 joined to make thee great.  
Of Nature's gifts, thou mayst with Lilies boast,  
And with the halfe-blowne Rose. But Fortune, oh,  
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee▪  
She adulterates hourly with thine Uncle john,  
And with her golden hand hath plucked 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?  
Euvenom him with words, or get thee gone,  
And leave those woes alone, which I alone  
Am bound to underbeare.  Sal. 
Pardon me Madam,  
I may not go without you to the kings.  Con. 
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 greefe'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.   

Actus Tertius,  

Scaena prima.  Enter King john, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elinor, Philip, Austria, Constance. Fran. 
'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 splendour of his precious eye  
The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold:  
The yearly course that brings this day about,  
Shall never see it, but a holy day.  Const. 
A wicked day, and not a holy day.  
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 burdens may not fall this day,  
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crossed:  
But (on this day) let Seamen fear no wrack,  
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.  Fra. 
By heaven Lady, you shall have no cause  
To curse the fair proceed of this day:  
Have I not pawned to you my Majesty?  Const. 
You have beguiled me with a counterfeit  
Resembling Majesty, which being touched and tried,  
Proves valuelesse: you are forsworn, forsworn,  
You came in Arms to spill mine enemy's 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 days in Peace; but ere Sunset,  
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured Kings,  
Hear me, Oh, hear me.  Aust. 
Lady Constance, peace.  Const. 
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 villainy,  
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side;  
Thou Fortune's Champion, that dost never fight  
But when her humourous Ladyship is by  
To teach thee safety: thou art perjured too,  
And sooth'st 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 foes?  
Thou wear a Lions hide, doff it for shame,  
And hang a Calf's skin on those recreant limbs.  Aus. 
O that a man should speak those words to me.  Phil. 
And hang a Calves-skin on those recreant limbs  Aus. 
Thou darest not say so villain for thy life.  Phil. 
And hang a Calves-skin on those recreant limbs.  john. 
We like not this, thou dost forget thyself.  Enter Pandulph. Fra. 
here comes the holy Legate of the Pope.  Pan. 
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 Arshbishop  
Of Canterbury from that holy Sea:  
This in our foresaid holy Father's name  
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.  john. 
What earthy name to Interrogatories  
Can taste the free breath of a sacred King?  
Thou canst not (Cardinal) device 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 th' assistance of a mortal hand:  
So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart  
To him and his usurped authority.  Fra. 
Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.  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 vild 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.  Pand. 
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 called,  
Canonised and worshipped as a Saint,  
That takes away by any secret course  
Thy hateful life.  Con. 
O lawful let it be  
That I have room with Rome to curse a while,  
Good Father Cardinal, cry thou Amen  
To my keen curses; for without my wrong  
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right.  Pan. 
There's Law and Warrant (Lady) for my curse.  Cons. 
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 forbidden my tongue to curse?  Pand. 
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.  Elea. 
Look'st thou pale France? do not let go thy hand.  Con. 
Look to that Devil, lest that France repent,  
And by disjoining hands hell lose a soul.  Aust. 
King Philip, listen to the Cardinal.  Bast. 
And hang a Calves-skin on his recreant limbs.  Aust. 
Well ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because,  Bast. 
Your breeches best may carry them.  john. 
Philip, what sayest thou to the Cardinal?  Con. 
What should he say, but as the Cardinal?  Dolph. 
Bethink you father, for the difference  
Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,  
Or the light loss of England, for a friend:  
Forgo the easier.  Bla. 
That●s the curse of Rome.  Con. 
O Lewis, stand fast, the devil tempts thee here  
In likeness of a new untrimmed Bride.  Bla. 
The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith,  
But from her need.  Con. 
Oh, if thou grant my need,  
Which only life's 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.  john. 
The king is moved, and answers not to this.  Con. 
O be removed from him, and answer well.  Aust. 
Do so king Philip, hang no more in doubt.  Bast. 
Hang nothing but a Calf's skin most sweet lout.  Fra. 
I am perplexed, and know not what to say.  Pan. 
What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more?  
If thou stand excommunicate, and cursed?  Fra. 
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 religous strength of sacred vows,  
The latest breath that gave the sound of words  
Was deepe-sworne 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 besmeared and over-staind  
With slaughters pencil; where revenge did paint  
The fearful difference of incensed kings:  
And shall these hands so lately purged of blood?  
So newly joined in love? so strong in both,  
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet?  
Play fast and lose 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 blessed  
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.  Pand. 
All form is formelesse, 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 cased Lion by the mortal paw,  
A fasting Tiger safer by the tooth,  
Then keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.  Fra. 
I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.  Pand. 
So makest thou faith an enemy to faith,  
And like a civil war setst oath to oath,  
Thy tongue against thy tongue. O let thy vow  
First made to heaven, first be to heaven performed,  
That is, to be the Champion of our Church,  
What since thou swor'st, 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 burned:  
It is religion that doth make vows kept,  
But thou hast sworn against religion:  
By what thou swearest against the thing thou swearest,  
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,  
Then arm thy constant and thy nobler parts  
Against these giddy lose 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.  Aust. 
Rebellion, flat rebellion.  Bast. 
Wil't not be?  
Will not a Calves-skin stop that mouth of thine?  Daul. 
Father, to Arms.  Blanch. 
Upon thy wedding day?  
Against the blood that thou hast married?  
What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men?  
Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums  
Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp?  
O husband hear me: aye, 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.  Const. 
O, upon my knee made hard with kneeling,  
I do pray to thee, thou virtuous Dauphin,  
Altar not the doom forethought by heaven.  Blan. 
Now shall I see thy love, what motive may  
Be stronger with thee, than the name of wife?  Con. 
That which upholdeth him, that thee upholds,  
His Honour, Oh thine Honour, Lewis thine Honor.  Dolph. 
I muse your Majesty doth seem so cold,  
When such profound respects do pull you on?  Pand. 
I will denounce a curse upon his head.  Fra. 
Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from thee.  Const. 
O fair return of banished Majesty.  Elea. 
O foul revolt of French inconstancy.  Eng. 
France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour.  Bast. 
Old Time the clock setter, that bald sexton Time:  
Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue.  Bla. 
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 h● a hand,  
And in their rage, I having hold of both,  
They whirl 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 wishes thrive:  
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose:  
Assured loss, before the match be played.  Dolph. 
Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.  Bla. 
There where my fortune life's, there my life dies.  john. 
Cousin; go draw our puissance together,  
France, I am burned 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.  Fra. 
Thy rage shall burn thee up, & thou shalt turn  
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire:  
Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.  john. 
No more than he that threats. To Arms let's high.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Alarms, Excursions: Enter Bastard with Austria's head. Bast. 
Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot,  
Some eyrie Devil hovers in the sky,  
And pour's down mischief. Austria's head lie there,  Enter john, Arthur, Hubert. 
While Philip breathes.  john. 
Hubert, keep this boy: Philip make up,  
My Mother is assailed in our Tent,  
And ta'en I fear.  Bast. 
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.  Exit. Alarms, excursions, Retreat. Enter john, Eleanor, Arthur Bastard, Hubert, Lords▪ john. 
So shall it be: your Grace shall stay behind  
So strongly guarded: Cousin, look not sad,  
Thy Grandam love's thee, and thy Uncle will  
As dear be to thee, as thy father was.  Arth. 
O this will make my mother die with grief.  john. 
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.  Bast. 
Bell, Book, & 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.  Ele. 
Farewell gentle Cousin.  john. 
Coz, farewell.  Ele. 
Come hither little kinsman, hark, a word.  john. 
Come hither Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,  
We own 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  
Life's in this bosom, dearly cherished.  
Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say,  
But I will fit it with some better tune.  
By heaven Hubert, I am almost ashamed  
To say what good respect I have of thee.  Hub. 
I am much bounden to your Majesty.  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, for 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 gauds  
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 lov'st me well.  Hub. 
So well, that what you bid me undertake,  
Though that my death were adjunct to my Act,  
By heaven I would do it.  john. 
Do not I know thou wouldst?  
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye  
On you young boy: I'll tell thee what my friend,  
He is a very serpent in my way,  
And wheresoever this foot of mine doth tread,  
He lies before me: dost thou understand me?  
Thou art his keeper.  Hub. 
And I'll keep him so,  
That he shall not offend your Majesty.  john. 
Death.  Hub. 
My Lord.  john. 
A Grave.  Hub. 
He shall not live.  john. 
Enough.  
I could be merry now, Hubert, I love thee.  
Well, I'll not say what I intent for thee:  
Remember: Madam, Far you well,  
I'll send those powers o'er to your Majesty.  Ele. 
My blessing go with thee.  john. 
For England Cousin, go.  
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you  
Withal true duty: On toward Calais, hoa.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter France, Dolphin, Pandulpho, Attendants. Fra. 
So by a roaring Tempest on the flood,  
A whole Armado of convicted sail  
Is scattered and disjoined from fellowship.  Pand. 
Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well.  Fra. 
What can go well, when we have run so ill?  
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?  
Arthur ta'en prisoner? diverse dear friends slain?  
And bloody England into England gone,  
Ore-bearing interruption spite of France?  Dol. 
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?  Fra. 
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 th' eternal spirit against her will,  
In the vild prison of afflicted breath:  
I prithee Lady go away with me.  Con. 
Lo; now: now see the issue of your peace.  Fra. 
Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Constance.  Con. 
No, I defy all Counsel, all redress,  
But that which ends all counsel, true Redress:  
Death, death, O amiable, lovely death,  
Thou odoriferous 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 vaultie 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 smil'st,  
And buss thee as thy wife: Miseries Love,  
O come to me.  Fra. 
O fair affliction, peace.  Con. 
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 Ladies feeble voice,  
Which scorns a modern Invocation.  Pand. 
Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.  Con. 
Thou art 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 Canonised (Cardinal.)  
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,  
My reasonable part produces reason  
How I may be delivered 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 clowes were he:  
I am not mad: too well, too well I feel  
The different plague of each calamity.  Fra. 
Bind up those tresses: O what love I note  
In the fair multitude of ●hose her hairs;  
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fall'n,  
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry fiends  
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,  
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,  
Sticking together in calamity.  Con. 
To England, if you will.  Fra. 
Bind up your hairs.  Con. 
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 borne:  
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 meager as an Agues fit,  
And so he'll dye: 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.  Pand. 
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.  Const. 
He talks to me, that never had a son.  Fra. 
You are as fond of grief, as of your child.  Con. 
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,  
Remembets me of all his gracious parts,  
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;  
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?  
Fareyouwell: 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 sorrow's cure.  Exit. Fra. 
I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.  Exit. Dol. 
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 spoiled the sweet words taste,  
That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.  Pand. 
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?  Dol. 
All days of glory, joy and happiness.  Pan. 
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?  Dol. 
As hearty as he is glad he hath him.  Pan. 
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 snatched with an unruly hand,  
Must be as boisterously maintained as gained.  
And he that stands upon a slippery place,  
Makes nice of no vild hold to stay him up:  
That john may stand, than Arthur needs must fall;  
So be it, for it cannot be but so.  Dol. 
But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall?  Pan. 
You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,  
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.  Dol. 
And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.  Pan. 
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 borne shall cool the hearts  
Of all his people, and frieze up their zeal,  
That none so small advantage shall step forth  
To check his reign, but they will cherish it.  
No natural exhalation in the sky,  
No scope of Nature, no distempered day,  
No common wind, no customed event,  
But they will pluck away his natural cause,  
And call them Meteors, prodigies, and signs,  
Abbortives, presages, and tongues of heaven,  
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon john.  Dol. 
May be he will not touch young Arthur's life,  
But hold himself safe in his prisonment.  Pan. 
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.  
Me thinks I see this hurley all on foot;  
And O, what better matter breeds for you,  
Than I have named. The Bastard Falconbridge  
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 Dolphin,  
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.  Dol. 
Strong reasons makes strange actions: let us go,  
If you say I, the King will not say no.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Hubert and Executioners. Hub. 
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.  Exec. 
I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.  Hub. 
Uncleanly scruples fear not you: look too't.  
Young Lad come forth; I have to say with you.  Enter Arthur. Ar. 
Good morrow Hubert.  Hub. 
Good morrow; little Prince.  Ar. 
As little Prince, having so great a Title  
To be more Prince, as may be: you are sad.  Hub. 
Indeed I have been merrier.  Art. 
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 practices more harm to me:  
He is afraid of me, and I of him:  
Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes' son?  
No in deed is't not: and I would to heaven  
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert:  Hub. 
If I talk to him, with his innocent prate  
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:  
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.  Ar. 
Are you sick Hubert? you look pale to day,  
Insooth 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.  Hub. 
His words do take possession of my bosom.  
Read here young Arthur. How now foolish rheum?  
Turning dispitious 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?  Ar. 
Too fairly Hubert, for so foul effect,  
Must you with hot Irons, burn out both mine eyes?  Hub. 
Young Boy, I must.  Art. 
And will you?  Hub. 
And I will.  Art. 
Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,  
I knit my handkercher 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 cheered 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 lain 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, and 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.  Hub. 
I have sworn to do it:  
And with hot Irons must I burn them out.  Ar. 
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 this 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, then hammered Iron?  
And 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.  Hub. 
Come forth: Do as I bid you do.  Art. 
O save me Hubert, save me: my eyes are out  
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.  Hub. 
Give me the Iron I say, and bind him here.  Art. 
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 winch, nor speak a word,  
Nor look upon the Iron angrily:  
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,  
What ever torment you do put me too.  Hub. 
Go stand within: let me alone with him.  Exec. 
I am best pleased to be from such a deed.  Art. 
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.  Hub. 
Come (Boy) prepare yourself.  Art. 
Is there no remedy?  Hub. 
None, but to lose your eyes.  Art. 
O heaven: that there were but a moth 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 vild intent must needs seem horrible.  Hub. 
Is this your promise? Go too, hold your tongue  Art. 
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 troth, the Instrument is cold,  
And would not harm me.  Hub. 
I can heat it, Boy.  Art. 
No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with grief,  
Being created for comfort, to be used  
In undeserved extremes: See else yourself,  
There is no malice in this burning coal,  
The breath of heaven, hath blown his spirit out,  
And strewed repentant ashes on his head.  Hub. 
But with my breath I can revive it Boy.  Art. 
And if you do, you will but make it blush,  
And glow with shame of your proceed, Hubert:  
Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes:  
And, like a dog that is compelled to fight,  
Snatch at his Master that doth car 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.  Hub. 
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.  Art. 
O now you look like Hubert. All this while  
You were disguised.  Hub. 
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.  Art. 
O heaven! I thank you Hubert.  Hub. 
Silence, no more; go closely in with me,  
Much danger do I undergo for thee.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter john, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lords. john. 
here once again we sit: once against crowned  
And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.  Pem. 
This once again (but that your Highness pleased)  
Was once superfluous: you were Crowned before,  
And that high Royalty was ne'er plucked 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.  Sal. 
Therefore, to be possessed 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 ye, 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.  Pem. 
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.  Sal. 
In this the Antic, 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 fashioned robe.  Pem. 
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 th' excuse:  
As patches set upon a little breach,  
Discredit more in hiding of the fault,  
Then did the fault before it was so patched.  Sal. 
To this effect, before you were new crowned  
We breathed our Council: but it pleased your Highness  
To overbeare 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.  joh. 
Some reasons of this double Coronation  
I have possessed you with, and think them strong.  
And more, more strong, than lesser is my fear  
I shall endue you with: Mean time, but ask  
What you would have reformed▪ that is not well,  
And well shall you perceive, how willingly  
I will both hear, and grant you your requests.  Pem. 
Then I, as one that am the tongue of these  
To sound the purposes 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, hearty request  
Th' 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 times 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,  
Then, whereupon our weal on you depending,  
Counts it your weal: he have his liberty.  Enter Hubert. john. 
Let it be so: I do commit his youth  
To your direction: Hubert, what news with you?  Pem. 
This is the man should do the bloody deed:  
He showed his warrant to a friend of mine,  
The image of a wicked heinous fault  
Life's in his eye: that close aspect of his,  
Do show the mood of a much troubled breast,  
And I do fearfully believe 'tis done,  
What we so feared he had a charge to do.  Sal. 
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.  Pem. 
And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence  
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death.  john. 
We cannot hold mortalities 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.  Sal. 
Indeed we feared his sickness was past cure.  Pem. 
Indeed we heard how near his death he was,  
Before the child himself felt he was sick:  
This must be answered either here, or hence.  joh. 
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?  Sal. 
It is apparent foule-play, and 'tis shame  
That Greatness should so grossly offer it;  
So thrive it in your game, and so farewell.  Pem. 
Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) I'll go with thee,  
And find th' inheritance of this poor child,  
His little kingdom of a forced grave.  
That blood which owed the breadth of all this I'll,  
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 Io. 
They burn in indignation: I repent:  Enter Mes. 
There is no sure foundation set on blood:  
No certain life achieved by others death:  
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?  Mes. 
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 learned by them:  
For when you should be told they do prepare,  
The tidings comes, that they are all arrived.  joh. 
Oh 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?  Mes. 
My Liege, her ear  
Is stopped 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.  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 giv'st out are landed here?  Mes. 
Under the Dolphin.  Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret. joh. 
Thou hast made me giddy  
With these ill tidings: Now? What says the world  
To your proceed? Do not seek to stuff  
My head with more ill news: for it is full.  Bast. 
But if you be a-feard to hear the worst,  
Then let the worst un-heard, fall on your head.  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.  Bast. 
How I have sped among the Clergy men,  
The sums I have collected shall express:  
But as I travailed hither through the land,  
I find the people strangely fantasied,  
Possessed with rumours, full of idle dreams,  
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear.  
And here's 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.  john. 
Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?  Pet. 
Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so.  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 hanged.  
Deliver him to safety, and return,  
For I must use thee. O my gentle Cousin,  
Hearest thou the news abroad, who are arrived?  Bast. 
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, whom they say is killed to night, on your suggestion.  john. 
Gentle kinsman, go  
And thrust thyself into their Companies,  
I have a way to win their loves again:  
Bring them before me.  Bast. 
I will seek them out.  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.  Bast. 
The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.  Exit 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.  Mes. 
With all my heart, my Liege.  john. 
My mother dead?  Enter Hubert. Hub. 
My Lord, they say five Moons were seen to night:  
Four fixed, and the fift did whirl about  
The other four, in wondrous motion.  joh. 
Five Moons?  Hub. 
Old men, and Beldames, 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 hearers 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 Anvile 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 embattled, and ranked in Kent.  
Another lean, unwashed Artificer,  
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.  Io. 
Why seekest thou to possess me with these fears?  
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?  
Thy hand hath murdered him: I had a mighty cause  
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.  H 
No had (my Lord?) why, did you not provoke me?  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, then advised respect.  Hub. 
here is your hand and Seal for what I did.  joh. 
Oh, when the last account twixt heaven & 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 marked,  
Quoted, and signed to do a deed of shame,  
This murder had not come into my mind.  
But taking note of thy abhorred Aspect,  
Finding thee fit for bloody villainy:  
Apt, liable to be employed 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.  Hub. 
My Lord.  joh. 
Hadst thou but shaken thy head, or made a pause  
When I spoke darkly, what I purposed:  
Or turned 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 vild 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 breathe  
Hostility, and civil tumult reigns  
Between my conscience, and my Cousin's death.  Hub. 
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 entered yet  
The dreadful motion of a murderous thought,  
And you have slandered Nature in my form,  
Which howsoever rude exteriorly,  
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind,  
Then to be butcher of an innocent child.  john. 
Doth Arthur live? O hast 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 immaginarie eyes of blood  
Presented thee more hideous than thou art.  
Oh, answer not; but to my Closet bring▪  
The angry Lords, with all expedient haste,  
I conjure thee but slowly: run more fast.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Arthur on the walls. Ar. 
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 Shipboys 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 dye, and go; as dye, and stay.  
Oh me, my Uncle's spirit is in these stones,  
Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones.  Dyes Enter Pembroke, Salisburry, & Bigot. Sal. 
Lords, I will meet him at S. Edmondsbury,  
It is our safety, and we must embrace  
This gentle offer of the perilous time.  Pem. 
Who brought that Letter from the Cardinal?  Sal. 
The Count Meloone, a Noble Lord of France,  
Whose private with me of the Dolphines love,  
Is much more general, than these lines import.  Big. 
To morrow morning let us meet him then.  Sal. 
Or rather than set forward, for 'twill be  
Two long days journey (Lords) or ere we meet.  Enter Bastard. Bast. 
Once more to day well met, distempered Lords,  
The King by me requests your presence strait.  Sal. 
The king hath dispossessed 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 ere it walks.  
Return, and tell him so: we know the worst.  Bast. 
What ere you think, good words I think were best.  Sal. 
Our griefs, and not our manners reason now.  Bast. 
But there is little reason in your grief.  
Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now.  Pem. 
Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.  Bast. 
'Tis true, to hurt his master, no man's else.  Sal. 
This is the prison: What is he lies here?  P. 
Oh death, made proud with pure & princely beauty,  
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.  Sal. 
Murder, as hating what himself hath done,  
Doth lay it open to urge on revenge.  Big. 
Or when he doomed this Beauty to a grave,  
Found it too precious Princely, for a grave.  Sal. 
Sir Richard, what think you? you have beheld,  
Or have you read, or heard, or could you think?  
Or do you almost think, although you see,  
That you do see? Can thought, without this object  
Form such another? This is the very top,  
The height, the Crest: or Crest unto the Crest  
Of murders Arms: This is the bloodiest shame,  
The wildest savagery, the vildest stroke  
That ever wall-eyed wrath, or staring rage  
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.  Pem. 
All murders past, do stand excused in this:  
And this so sole, and so unmatcheable,  
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.  Bast. 
It is a damned, and a bloody work,  
The graceless action of a heavy hand,  
If that it be the work of any hand.  Sal. 
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 practice, and the purpose of the king:  
From whose obedience I forbidden 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.  Pem. Big. 
Our souls religiously confirm thy words.  Enter Hubert. Hub. 
Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you,  
Arthur doth live, the king hath sent for you.  Sal. 
Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death,  
Avaunt thou hateful villain, get thee gone.  Hu. 
I am no villain.  Sal. 
Must I rob the Law?  Bast. 
Your sword is bright sir, put it up again.  Sal. 
Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin.  Hub. 
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.  Big. 
Out dunghill: darest thou brave a Nobleman?  Hub. 
Not for my life: But yet I dare defend  
My innocent life against an Emperor.  Sal. 
Thou art a Murderer.  Hub. 
Do not prove me so:  
Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speaks false,  
Not truly speaks: who speaks not truly, Lies.  Pem. 
Cut him to pieces.  Bast. 
Keep the peace, I say.  Sal. 
Stand by, or I shall gall you Faulconbridge.  Bast. 
Thou were't 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 tosting-Iron,  
That you shall think the devil is come from hell.  Big. 
What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge?  
Second a Villain, and a Murderer?  Hub. 
Lord Bigot, I am none.  Big. 
Who killed this Prince?  Hub. 
'Tis not an hour since I left him well:  
I honoured him, I loved him, and will weep  
My date of life out, for his sweet life's loss.  Sal. 
Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,  
For villainy is not without such rheum,  
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem  
Like Rivers of remorse and innocence.  
Away with me, all you whose souls abhor  
Th' uncleanly savours of a Slaughter-house,  
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.  Big. 
Away, toward Bury, to the Dolphin there.  P. 
There tell the king, he may inquire us out.  Ex Lords. Ba. 
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 damned Hubert.  Hub 
Do but hear me sir.  Bast. 
Ha'? I'll tell thee what.  
Thou'rt damned as black, nay nothing is so black,  
Thou art more deep damned then Prince Lucifer:  
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell  
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.  Hub. 
Upon my soul.  Bast. 
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.  Hub. 
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.  Bast. 
Go, bear him in thine arms: am amazed me thinks, 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 th' teeth  
The un-owed interest of proud swelling State:  
Now for the bare-pickt 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 sicke-falne beast,  
The imminent decay of wrested pomp.  
Now happy he, whose cloak and centre 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.  Exit.   

Actus Quartus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter King john and Pandolph, attendants. K. john. 
Thus have I yielded up into your hand  
The Circle of my glory.  Pan. 
Take again  
From this my hand, as holding of the Pope  
Your Sovereign greatness and authority.  john. 
Now keep your holy word, go meet the French,  
And from his holiness use all your power  
To stop their marches before we are inflamed:  
Our discontented Counties do revolt:  
Our people quarrel with obedience,  
Swearing Allegiance, and the love of soul  
To stranger-bloud, to for●en Royalty;  
This inundation of mistempred humour,  
Rests by you only to be qualified.  
Then pause not: for the present time's so sick,  
That present medicine must be ministered,  
Or overthrew incurable ensues.  Pand. 
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. 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 thanked) it is but voluntary.  Enter Bastard. Bast. 
All Kent hath yielded: nothing there holds out  
But Dover Castle: London hath received  
Like a kind Host, the Dolphin 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.  john. 
Would not my Lords return to me again  
After they heard young Arthur was alive?  Bast. 
They found him dead, and cast into the streets,  
An empty Casket, where the jewel of life  
By some damned hand was robbed, and ta'en away.  john. 
That villain Hubert told me he did live.  Bast. 
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 behaviours 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?  
Oh let it not be said: forage, and run  
To meet displeasure farther from the doors,  
And grapple with him ere he come so nigh.  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 Dolphin.  Bast. 
Oh inglorious league:  
Shall we upon the footing of our land,  
Send fayre-play-orders, and make compromise,  
Insinuation, parley, and base truce  
To Arms Inuasive? Shall a beardless boy,  
A cockred-silken wanton brave our fields,  
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,  
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,  
And find no check? 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.  john. 
Have thou the ordering of this present time.  Bast. 
Away then with good courage: yet I know  
Our Party may well meet a prouder foe.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter (in Arms) Dolphin, Salisbury, Meloone, Pembroke, Bigot, Soldiers. Dol. 
My Lord Melloone, 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.  Sal. 
Upon our sides it never shall be broken.  
And Noble Dolphin, albeit we swear  
A voluntary zeal, and an vnurged Faith  
To your proceed: yet believe me Prince,  
I am not glad that such a sore of Time  
Should seek a plaster by contemned revolt,  
And heal the inveterate Canker of one wound,  
By making many: Oh it grieves my soul,  
That I must draw this mettle from my side  
To be a widdow-maker: oh, 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, (oh my grieved friends)  
That we, the sons and children of this Isle,  
Was borne to see so sad an hour as this,  
Wherein we step after a stranger, march  
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up  
Her Enemy's 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 cripple thee unto a Pagan shore,  
Where these two Christian Armies might combine  
The blood of malice, in a vain of league,  
And not to spend it so un-neighbourly.  Dolph. 
A noble temper dost thou show in this,  
And great affections wrestling in thy bosom  
Doth make an earthquake of Nobility:  
Oh, what a noble combat hast fought  
Between compulsion, and a brave respect:  
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,  
That siluerly 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 vaultie top of heaven  
Figured quite o'er wirh burning Meteors.  
Lift up thy brow (renowned Salisbury)  
And with a great heart heave away this storm:  
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes  
That never saw the giant-world enraged,  
Nor met with Fortune, other then at feasts,  
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossipping:  
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.  Enter Pandulpho. 
And even there, methinks an Angel spoke,  
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.  Pand. 
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 Sea of Rome:  
Therefore thy threatening Colours now wind up,  
And tame the savage spirit of wild war,  
That like a Lion fostered up at hand,  
It may lie gently at the foot of peace.  
And be no further harmful then in show.  Dol. 
Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back:  
I am too high-born to be proportied  
To be a secondary at control,  
Or useful servingman, 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 fare 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 conquered, 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 Roy; as I have banked their Towns?  
Have I not here the best Cards for the game  
To win this easy match, played for a Crown?  
And shall I now give over the yielded Set?  
No, no, on my soul it never shall be said.  Pand. 
You look but on the outside of this work.  Dol. 
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 culled these fiery spirits from the world  
To outlook Conquest, and to win renown  
Even in the jaws of danger, and of death:  
What lusty Trumpet thus doth summon us?  Enter Bastard. Bast. 
According to the fairplay 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.  Pand. 
The Dolphin is too wilful opposite  
And will not temporize with my entreaties:  
He flatly says, hee●ll not lay down his Arms.  Bast. 
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 to he should,  
This apish and unmannerly approach,  
This harnessed Mask, and unadvised Revel,  
This un-heard sauciness and boyish Troops,  
The King doth smile at, and is well prepared  
To whip this dwarfish war, this 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 Welles,  
To crouch in litter of your stable planks,  
To lie like pawns, locked 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 Nations crow,  
Thinking this 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 airy towers,  
To souse annoyance that comes near his Nest;  
And you degenerate, you ingrate Revolts, you bloody Nero's, 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 Needls to Lances, and their gentle hearts  
To fierce and bloody inclination.  Dol. 
There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace,  
We grant thou canst outscold us: Far thee well,  
We hold our time too precious to be spent  
With such a brabbler.  Pan. 
Give me leave to speak.  Bast. 
No, I will speak.  Dol. 
We will attend to neither:  
Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war  
Plead for our interest, and our being here.  Bast. 
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 a 〈◊〉, and another shall  
(As loud as thine) rattle the Welkin's ear,  
And mock the deep mouthed 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-ribed death, whose office is this day  
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.  Dol. 
Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.  Bast. 
And thou shalt find it (Dolphin) do not doubt  Exeunt.  

Scaena Tertia.  Alarms. Enter john and Hubert. john. 
How goes the day with us? oh tell me Hubert.  Hub. 
Badly I fear; how fares your Majesty?  john. 
This Fever that hath troubled me so long,  
Lies heavy on me: oh, my heart is sick.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
My Lord: your valiant kinsman Falconbridge,  
Desires your Majesty to leave the field,  
And send him word by me, which way you go.  john. 
Tell him toward Swinsted, to the Abbey there.  Mes. 
Be of good comfort: for the great supply,  
That was expected by the Dolphin here,  
Are wracked three nights ago on Goodwin sands.  
This news was brought to Richard but even now,  
The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.  john. 
Ay me, this tyrant Fever burns me up,  
And will not let me welcome this good news.  
Set on toward Swinsted: to my Litter strait,  
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot. Sal. 
I did not think the King so stored with friends.  Pem. 
up once again: put spirit in the French,  
If they miscarry: we miscarry too.  Sal. 
That misbegotten devil Falconbridge,  
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.  Pem. 
They say King john sore sick, hath left the field.  Enter Meloon wounded. Mel. 
Led me to the Revolts of England here.  Sal. 
When we were happy, we had other names.  Pem. 
It is the Count Meloone.  Sal. 
Wounded to death.  Mel. 
Fly Noble English, you are bought and sold,  
Vnthred 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 more with me,  
Upon the Altar at S. Edmondsbury,  
Even on that Altar, where we swore to you  
Dear Amity, and everlasting love.  Sal. 
May this be possible? May this be true?  Mel. 
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 dye here, and live hence, by Truth?  
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,  
He is forsworn, if ere 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 Grandsite 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.  Sal. 
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'erlooked,  
And calmly 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.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Dolphin, and his Train. Dol. 
The Sun of heaven (me thought) was loath to set;  
But stayed, and made the Western Welkin blush,  
When English measure backward their own ground  
In faint Retire: Oh bravely came we off,  
When with a volley of our needless shot,  
After such bloody toil, we bid good night,  
And wooned our tottering colours clearly up,  
Last in the field, and almost Lords of it.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
Where is my Prince, the Dolphin?  Dol. 
here: what news?  Mes. 
The Count Meloone is slain: The English Lords  
By his persuasion, are again fall'n off,  
And your supply, which you have wished so long,  
Are cast away, and sunk on Goodwin sands.  Dol. 
Ah fowl, shrewd news. Beshrew thy very hart:  
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?  Mes. 
Who ever spoke it, it is true my Lord.  Dol. 
Well: keep good quarter, & good care to night,  
The day shall not be up so soon as I,  
To try the fair adventure of to morrow.  Exeunt  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Bastard and Hubert, severally. Hub. 
Whose there? Speak hoa, speak quickly, or I shoot.  Bast. 
A Friend. What art thou?  Hub. 
Of the part of England.  Bast. 
Whether dost thou go?  Hub. 
What's that to thee?  
Why may not I demand of thine affairs,  
As well as thou of mine?  Bast. 
Hubert, I think.  Hub. 
Thou hast a perfect thought:  
I will upon all hazards well believe  
Thou art my friend, that knowst my tongue so well:  
Who art thou?  Bast. 
Who thou wilt: and if thou please  
Thou mayst befriend me so much, as to think  
I come one way of the Plantagenets.  Hub. 
Unkind remembrance: thou, & endless night,  
Have done me shame: Brave Soldier, pardon me,  
That any accent breaking from thy tongue,  
Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.  Bast. 
Come, come: sans compliment, What news abroad?  Hub. 
Why here walk I, in the black brow of night  
To find you out.  Bast. 
Brcefe then: and what's the news?  Hub. 
O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,  
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.  Bast. 
Show me the very wound of this ill news,  
I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.  Hub. 
The King I fear is poisoned 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,  
Then if you had at leisure known of this.  Bast. 
How did he take it? Who did taste to him?  Hub. 
A Monk I tell you, a resolved villain  
Whose Bowels suddenly burst out: The King  
Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover.  Bast 
Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty?  Hub. 
Why know you not? The Lords are all come back,  
And brought Prince Henry in their company,  
At whose request the king hath pardoned them,  
And they are all about his Majesty.  Bast. 
Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,  
And tempt us not to bear above our power:  
I'll tell thee Hubert, half my power this night  
Passing these Flats, are taken by the Tide,  
These Lincolne-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  

Scena Septima.  Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot. Hen. 
It is too late, the life of all his blood  
Is touched, corruptibly: and his pure brain  
(Which some suppose the souls frail dwelling house)  
Doth by the idle Comments that it makes,  
Foretell the ending of mortality.  Enter Pembroke. Pem. 
His Highness yet doth speak, & holds belief,  
That being brought into the open air,  
It would allay the burning quality  
Of that fell poison which assaileth him.  Hen. 
Let him be brought into the Orchard here:  
Doth he still rage?  Pem. 
He is more patiented  
Than when you left him; even now he sung.  Hen. 
Oh vanity of sickness: fierce extremes  
In their continuance, will not feel themselves.  
Death having prayed upon the outward parts  
Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now  
Against the wind, the which he pricks and wounds  
With many legions of strange fantasies,  
Which in their throng, and press to that last hold,  
Counfound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing:  
I am the Symer 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.  Sal. 
Be of good comfort (Prince) for you are borne  
To set a form upon that indigest  
Which he hath left so shapeless, and so rude.  john brought in. john. 
I 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.  Hen. 
How fares your Majesty?  joh. 
Poisoned, 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 burned 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.  Hen. 
Oh that there were some virtue in my tears,  
That might relieve you.  john. 
The salt in them is hot.  
Within me is a hell, and there the poison  
Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize,  
On unrepreevable condemned blood.  Enter Bastard. Bast. 
Oh, I am scalded with my violent motion  
And spleen of speed, to see your Majesty.  john. 
Oh Cousin, thou art come to set mine eye:  
The tackle of my heart, is cracked and burnt,  
And all the shrowds 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.  Bast. 
The Dolphin is preparing hither-ward,  
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.  Sal. 
You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear  
My Liege, my Lord: but now a King, now thus.  Hen. 
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?  Bast. 
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:  
Strait let us seek, or strait we shall be sought,  
The Dolphin rages at our very heels.  Sal. 
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 Dolphin,  
And brings from him such offers of our peace,  
As we with honour and respect may take,  
With purpose presently to leave this war.  Bast. 
He will the rather do it, when he sees  
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.  Sal. 
Nay, 'tis in a manner done already,  
For many carriages he hath dispatched  
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.  Bast. 
Let it be so, and you my noble Prince,  
With other Princes that may best be spared,  
Shall wait upon your Father's Funeral.  Hen. 
At Worster must his body be interred,  
For so he willed it.  Bast. 
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.  Sal. 
And the like tender of our love we make  
To rest without a spot for evermore.  Hen. 
I have a kind soul, that would give thankes,  
And knows not how to do it, but with tears.  Bast. 
Oh let us pay the time: but needful woe,  
Since it hath been before hand 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: Naught shall make us rue,  
If England to itself, do rest but true.  Exeunt.    

The life and death of King Richard the Second.  

Actus Primus,  

Scaena Prima.  Enter King Richard, john of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants. King Richard. 
OLd john of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster,  
Hast thou according to thy oath and band  
Brought hither Henry Herford 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?  Gaunt. 
I have my Liege.  King. 
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.  Gaunt. 
As near as I could sift him on that argument,  
On some apparent danger seen in him,  
Aimed at your Highness, no inveterate malice.  Kin. 
Then call them to our presence face to face,  
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear  
Th' accuser, and the accused, freely speak;  
High stomached are they both, and full of ire,  
In rage, deaf as the sea; hasty as fire.  Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray. Bul. 
Many years of happy days befall  
My gracious Sovereign, my most loving Liege.  Mow. 
Each day still better others happiness,  
Until the heavens envying earth's good hap,  
Add an immortal title to your Crown.  King. 
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?  Bul. 
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  Mow. 
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 cooled for this.  
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,  
As to be hushed, and nought at all to say.  
First the fair reverence of your Highness curbs me,  
From giving reines and spurs to my free speech,  
Which else would post, until it had returned  
These terms of treason, doubly down his throat.  
Setting aside his high bloods 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 Alpes,  
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.  Bul. 
Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage,  
Disclaiming here the kindred of a King,  
And lay aside my high bloods Royalty,  
Which fear, not reverence makes thee to except.  
If guilty dread hath 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 spoken, or thou canst device.  Mow. 
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. 
What doth our Cousin lay to Mowbraies charge?  
It must be great that can inherit us,  
So much as of a thought of ill in him.  Bul. 
Look what I said, my life shall prove it true,  
That Mowbray hath received eight thousand Nobles,  
〈◊〉 ●ame of lend for your Highness' Soldiers,  
●e which he hath detained for lewd employments,  
like a false Traitor, and invirious Villain.  
Besides I say, and will in battle prove,  
Or here, or elsewhere to the furthest Verge  
That ever was surveyed by English eye,  
That all the Treasons for these eighteen years  
Complotted, and contrived in this Land,  
Fetched 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 Glousters' 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 toonglesse 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. 
How high a pitch his resolution soars:  
Thomas of Norfolk, what sayest thou to this?  Mow. 
Oh 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. 
Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears,  
Were he my brother, nay our kingdom's heir,  
As he is but my father's brother's son;  
Now by my Sceptres awe, I make a vow,  
Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood,  
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize  
The un-stooping firmness of my upright soul.  
He is our subject (Mowbray) so art thou,  
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.  Mow. 
Then Bullingbrooke, 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 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 Lye. For Glousters' death,  
I slew him not; but (to mine own disgrace)  
Neglected my sworn duty in that case:  
For you my noble Lord of Lancaster,  
The honourable Father to my foe,  
Once I did 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 begged  
Your Grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.  
This is my fault: as for the rest appealed,  
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 Traitors foot,  
To prove myself a loyal Gentleman,  
Even in the best blood chambered in his bosom▪  
In haste whereof, most hearty I pray  
Your Highness to assign our Trial day.  King. 
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 time to bleed.  
Good Uncle, let this end where it begun▪  
we'll calm the Duke of Norfolk▪ you, your son.  Gaunt. 
To be a make-peace shall become my age,  
Throw down (my son) the Duke of Norfolk's gage.  King. 
And Norfolk, throw down hi●  Gaunt. 
When Harris when Obedience bids,  
Obedience bids I should not bid again.  King. 
Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.  Mow. 
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 life's upon my grave  
To dark dishonours use, thou shalt not have.  
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here,  
Pierced to the soul with slanders venomed spear:  
The which no balm can cure, but his heart blood  
Which breathed this poison.  King. 
Rage must be withstood:  
Give me his gage: Lions make Leopards tame.  Mo. 
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 barred 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. 
Cousin, throw down your gage,  
Do you begin.  Bul. 
Oh heaven defend my soul from such foul sin.  
Shall I seem Crest-fallen in my father's sight,  
Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my height  
Before this outdared dastard? Ere my tongue,  
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong;  
Or sound so base a parley: my teeth shall tear  
The slavish motive of recanting fear.  
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,  
Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbrayes' face.  Exit Gaunt. King. 
We were not borne to sue, but to command,  
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,  
Be ready, (as your lives shall answer it)  
At Coventree, upon S. Lambert's day:  
There shall your swords and Lances arbitrate  
The swelling difference of your settled hate:  
Since we cannot atone you, you shall see  
justice design the Victor's Chivalry.  
Lord Martial, command our Officers at Arms,  
Be ready to direct these home Alarms.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Gaunt, and Duchess of Gloucester. Gaunt. 
Alas, the part I had in Glousters' blood,  
Doth more solicit me then 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 reign hot vengeance on offenders heads.  Dut. 
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 viols 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 Glouster,  
One Viol full of Edward's Sacred blood,  
One flourishing branch of his most Royal root  
Is cracked, and all the precious liquor spilt;  
Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all vaded  
By Envy's hand, and Murders bloody Axe.  
Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that womb,  
That mettle, that selfe-mould that fashioned 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 dye,  
Who was the model of thy Father's life.  
Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is despair,  
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughtered,  
Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life,  
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:  
That which in mean men we entitle patience  
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts:  
What shall I say, to safeguard thine own life,  
The best way is to venge my Glousters death.  Gaunt. 
Heaven's is the quarrel: for heaven'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.  Dut. 
Where then (alas may I) complaint myself?  Gau. 
To heaven, the widow's Champion to defence  Dut. 
Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt.  
Thou go'st to Coventrie, there to behold  
Our Cousin Herford, and fell Mowbray fight:  
O sit my husband's wrongs on Herfords' spear,  
That it may enter butcher mowbray's breast:  
Or if misfortune miss the first career,  
Be Mowbrayes' sins so heavy in his bosom,  
That they may break his foaming Coursers back,  
And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists,  
A Gaytiffe recreant to my Cousin Herford:  
Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brother's wife  
With her companion Grief, must end her life.  Gau. 
Sister farewell: I must to Coventree,  
As much good stay with thee, as go with me.  Dut. 
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 my 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, Oh, what?  
With all good speed at Plashie visit me.  
Alack, and what shall good old York there see  
But empty lodgings, and unfurnished walls,  
Vn-peopeled 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 dye,  
The last leave of thee, takes my weeping eye.  Exeunt  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Martial, and Aumerle. Mar. 
My L. Aumerle, is Harry Herford armed.  Aum. 
Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.  Mar. 
The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,  
Stays but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet.  Au. 
Why then the Champions, are prepared, and stay  
For nothing but his Majesty's approach.  Flourish. Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then Mowbray in Armour, and Harrold. Rich. 
Martial, 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.  Mar. 
In God's name, and the Kings, say who thou art,  
And why thou comest thus knightly clad in Arms?  
Against what man thou comest, and what's thy quarrel,  
Speak truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath,  
As so defend thee heaven, and thy valour.  Mow. 
My name is Tho. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,  
Who hither comes engaged by my oath  
(Which heaven defend a knight should violate)  
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,  
To God, my King, and his succeeding issue,  
Against the Duke of Herford, 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.  Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold. Rich. 
Martial: Ask yonder Knight in Arms,  
Both who he is, and why he cometh hither,  
Thus placed in habiliments of war:  
And formerly according to our Law  
Depose him in the justice of his cause.  Mar. 
What is thy name? and wherefore com'st 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.  Bul. 
Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,  
Am I: who ready here do stand in Arms,  
To prove by heaven's grace, and my body's valour,  
In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk,  
That he's a Traitor foul, and dangerous,  
To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me,  
And as I truly fight, defend me heaven.  Mar. 
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.  Bul. 
Lord Martial, 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 louing farewell of our several friends.  Mar. 
The Appellant in all duty greets your Highness,  
And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave.  Rich. 
We will descend, and fold him in our arms.  
Cousin of Herford, as thy cause is just,  
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.  Bull. 
Oh let no noble eye profane a tear  
For me, if I be gored with Mowbrayes' 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.  
Oh thou the earthy author of my blood,  
Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate,  
Doth with a twofold rigour lift me up  
To reach at victory above my head,  
Add proof unto mine Armour with thy prayers,  
And with thy blessings steel my Lances point,  
That it may enter mowbray's waxed Coat,  
And furnish new the name of john a Gaunt,  
Even in the lusty behaviour of his son.  Gaunt. 
Heaven 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 Cask  
Of thy amazed pernicious enemy.  
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.  Bul. 
Mine innocence, and S. George to thrive.  Mow. 
How ever heaven or fortune cast my lot,  
There life's, or dies, true to Kings 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 uncontrolled 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.  Rich. 
Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy  
Virtue with Valour, couched in thine eye:  
Order the trial Martial, and begin.  Mar. 
Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,  
Receive thy Lance, and heaven defend thy right.  Bul. 
Strong as a tower in hope, I cry Amen.  Mar. 
Go bear this Lance to Thomas D. of Norfolk.  1. Har. 
Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,  
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 forwards to the fight.  3. Har. 
Here standeth Tho: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk  
On pain to be found false and recreant,  
Both to defend himself, and to approve  
Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,  
To God, his Sovereign, and to him disloyal:  
Courageously, and with a free desire  
Attending but the signal to begin.  A charge sounded Mar. 
Sound Trumpet's, and set forward Combatants:  
Stay, the King hath thrown his Warder down.  Rich. 
Let them lay by their Helmets & 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 soiled  
With that dear blood which it hath fostered,  
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect  
Of civil wounds plowghed up with neighbour's swords,  
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 Herford, upon pain of death,  
Till twice five Summers have enriched our fields,  
Shall not regret our fair dominions,  
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.  Bul. 
Your will be done: This must my comfort be,  
That 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.  Rich. 
Norfolk: for thee remains a heavier dumb,  
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,  
Breath I against thee, upon pain of life.  Mow. 
A heavy sentence, my most Sovereign Liege,  
And all unlooked 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 learned these forty years  
(My native English) now I must forgo,  
And now my tongues use is to me no more,  
Then an unstringed Vial, 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 engaoled my tongue,  
Doubly portcullised 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 fare in years to be a pupil now:  
What is thy sentence then, but speechless death,  
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?  Rich. 
It boots thee not to be compassionate,  
After our sentence, plaining comes too late.  Mow. 
Then thus I turn me from my country's light  
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.  Ric. 
Return again, and take an oath with thee,  
Lay on our Royal sword, your banished hands;  
Swear by the duty that you own to heaven  
(Our part therein we banish with yourselves)  
To keep the Oath that we administer:  
You never shall (so help you Truth, and Heaven)  
Embrace each others love in banishment,  
Nor ever look upon each others face,  
Nor ever write, regreet, or reconcile  
This lowering tempest of your homebred hate,  
Nor ever by advised purpose meet,  
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill,  
'Gainst Us, our State, our Subjects, or our Land.  Bull. 
I swear.  Mow. 
And I, to keep all this.  Bul. 
Norfolk, so far, as to mine enemy,  
By this time (had the King permitted us)  
One of our souls had wandered in the air,  
Banished this frail sepulchre of our flesh,  
As now our flesh is banished from this Land.  
Confess thy Treasons, ere thou fly this Realm,  
Since thou hast fare to go, bear not along  
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.  Mow. 
No Bullingbroke: If ever I were Traitor,  
My name be blotted from the book of Life,  
And I from heaven banished, as from hence:  
But what thou art, heaven, 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 worlds my way.  Exit. Rich. 
Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes  
I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect,  
Hath from the number of his banished years  
Plucked four away: Six frozen Winters spent,  
Return with welcome home, from banishment.  Bul. 
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.  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 oyle-dride 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.  Rich. 
Why Uncle, thou hast many years to live.  Gaunt. 
But not a minute (King) that thou canst give;  
Shorten my days thou canst with sudden 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 currant with him, for my death,  
But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.  Ric. 
Thy son is banished upon good advice,  
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave,  
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower?  Gau. 
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.  
Alas, I looked 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.  Rich. 
Cousin farewell: and Uncle bid him so:  
Six years we banish him, and he shall go.  Exit. Flourish. Au. 
Cousin farewell: what presence must not know  
From where you do remain, let paper show.  Mar. 
My Lord, no leave take I, for I will ride  
As fare as land will let me, by your side.  Gaunt. 
Oh to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,  
That thou teturnst no greeting to thy friends?  Bull. 
I have too few to take my leave of you,  
When the tongues office should be prodigal,  
To breathe th' abundant dolour of the heart.  Gau. 
Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.  Bull. 
joy absent, grief is present for that time.  Gau. 
What is six Winters, they are quickly gone?  Bul. 
To men in joy, but grief makes one hour ten.  Gau. 
Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.  Bul. 
My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,  
Which finds it an enforced Pilgrimage.  Gau. 
The sullen passage of thy weary steps  
Esteem a soil, wherein thou art to set  
The precious jewel of thy home return.  Bul. 
Oh 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?  
Oh no, the apprehension of the good  
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:  
Fell sorrows tooth, doth ever rankle more  
Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.  Gau. 
Come, come (my son) I'll bring thee on thy way  
Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay.  Bul. 
Then England's ground farewell: sweet soil adieu,  
My Mother, and my Nurse, which bears me yet:  
Where ere I wander, boast of this I can,  
Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman.   

Scoena Quarta.  Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot. Rich. 
We did observe. Cousin Aumerle,  
How far brought you high Herford on his way?  Aum. 
I brought high Herford (if you call him so) but to the next high way, and there I left him.  Rich. 
And say, what store of parting tears were shed?  Aum. 
Faith none for me: except the North-east wind  
Which then grew bitterly against our face,  
Awaked the sleepy rhew me, and so by chance  
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.  Rich. 
What said our Cousin when you parted with him?  Au. 
Farewell: and for my hart disdained that my tongue  
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft  
To counterfeit oppression of such grief,  
That word seemed buried in my sorrow's grave.  
Marry, would the word Farewell, have lengthened 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.  Rich. 
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: here Bagot and Greene  
Observed his Courtship to the common people:  
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,  
With humble, and familiat courtesy,  
What reverence he did throw away on slaves;  
Wooing poor Craftesmen, with the craft of souls,  
And patiented underbearing of his Fortune,  
As 'twere to banish their affects with him.  
Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster-wench,  
A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well,  
And had the tribute of his supple knee,  
With thankes my Countrymen, my loving friends,  
As were our England in reversion his,  
And he our subjects next degree in hope.  Gr. 
Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts:  
Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland,  
Expedient manage must be made my Liege  
E'er further leisure, yield them further means  
For their advantage, and your Highness' loss.  Ric. 
We will ourself in person to this war,  
And for our Coffers, with too great a Court,  
And liberal Largesse, are grown somewhat light,  
We are enforced to farm our royal Realm,  
The Revennew whereof shall furnish us  
For our affairs in hand: if that come short  
Our Substitutes at home shall have Blanke-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?  Bu. 
Old john of Gaunt is very sick my Lord,  
Suddenly taken, and hath sent post haste  
To entreat your Majesty to visit him.  Ric. 
Where lies he?  Bu. 
At Ely house.  Ric. 
Now put it (heaven) in his 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 heaven we may make haste, and come too late.  Exit.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Gaunt, sick with York. Gau. 
Will the King come, that I may breathe my last  
In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?  Yor. 
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath,  
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.  Gau. 
Oh 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 breath truth, that breath their words in pain.  
He that no more must say, is listened more,  
Then they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze,  
More are men's ends marked, than their lives before,  
The setting Sun, and Music is the close  
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,  
Writ in remembrance, more than things long passed;  
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,  
My deaths sad tale, may yet undeafe his ear.  Yor. 
No, it is stopped with other flattering sounds  
As praises of his state: then there are sound  
Lasc●ious 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?  
That all too late comes counsel to be heard,  
Where will doth mutiny with wits regard:  
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose,  
'tis breath thou lackest, and that breath wilt thou lose.  Gaunt. 
Me thinks 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 sceptred 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,  
Feared by their breed, and famous for their birth,  
Renowned for their deeds, as fare from home,  
For Christian service, and true Chivalry,  
As is the sepulchre in stubborn jury  
Of the World's ransom, blessed Mary's Son.  
This Land of such dear souls, this deere-deere 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 blottes, 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, Queen, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby. Yor. 
The King is come, deal mildly with his youth,  
For young hot Colts, being raged, do rage the more.  Qu. 
How fares our noble Uncle Lancaster?  Ri. 
What comfort man? How is't with aged Gaunt?  Ga. 
Oh how that name befits my composition:  
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:  
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast,  
And who abstaynes from meat, that is not gaunt?  
For sleeping England long time have I watched,  
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 naught but bones.  Ric. 
Can sick men play so nicely with their names?  Gau. 
No, misery makes sport to mock itself:  
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in mec,  
I mock my name (great King) to flatter thee.  Ric. 
Should dying men flatter those that live?  Gau. 
No, no, men living flatter those that die.  Rich. 
Thou now a dying, sayest thou flatterest me.  Gau. 
Oh no, thou diest, though I the sicker be.  Rich. 
I am in health, I breath, I see the ●ill.  Gau. 
Now he that made me, knows I see thee ill:  
Ill in myself to see, and in thee, seeing ill,  
Thy deathbed is no lesser than the Land,  
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick,  
And thou too careless patient as thou art,  
Committest 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:  
Oh 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 possessed,  
Which art possessed now to depose thyself.  
Why (Cousin) were thou Regent of the world,  
It were a shame to let his 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, and not King:  
Thy state of Law, is bondslave to the law,  
And—  Rich. 
And thou, a lunatic lean-witted fool,  
Presuming on an Agues privilege,  
Darest with thy frozen admonition  
Make pale our cheek, chafing the Royal blood  
With fury, from his native residence?  
Now by my Seats right Royal Majesty,  
Were't 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.  Gau. 
Oh spare me not, my brothers Edward's son,  
For that I was his Father Edward's son:  
That blood already (like the Pelican)  
Thou hast tapped out, and drunkenly carowsed.  
My brother Gloucester, plain well meaning soul  
(Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls)  
May be a precedent, and witness good,  
That thou respectest not spilling Edward's blood:  
Toyne with the present sickness that I have,  
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,  
To crop at once a too-long withered 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 Rich. 
And let them dye, that age and sullens have,  
For both hast thou, and both become the grave.  Yor. 
I do beseech your Majesty impute his words  
To wayward sickliness, and age in him:  
He love's you on my life▪ and holds you dear  
As Harry Duke of Herford, were he here.  Rich. 
Right, you say true: as Herfords' love, so his;  
As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.  Enter Northumberland. Nor. 
My Liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty.  Rich. 
What says he?  Nor. 
Nay nothing, all is said:  
His tongue is now a stringless instrument,  
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.  Yor. 
Be York the next, that must be bankrupt so,  
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal wo.  Rich. 
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, coin, revennewes, and moveables,  
Whereof our Uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.  Yor. 
How long shall I be patiented? Oh how long  
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?  
Not Glousters' death, nor Herfords' banishment,  
Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,  
Nor the prevention of poor Bullingbrooke,  
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace  
Have ever made me sour my patiented 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,  
Then was that young and Princely Gentleman,  
His face thou hast, for even so looked he  
Accomplished with the number of thy how●rs:  
But when he frowned, it was against the French,  
And not against his friends: his noble hand  
Did w●n what he did spend: and spent not that  
Which his triumphant father's hand had won:  
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood,  
But bloody with the enemies of his kin:  
Oh Richard York is too fare gone with grief,  
Or else he never would compare between.  Rich. 
Why Uncle,  
What's the matter?  Yor. 
Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not  
I pleased not to be pardoned, am content with all:  
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands  
The Royalties and Rights of banished Herford?  
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford live?  
Was not Gaunt just? and is not ●arry true?  
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?  
Is not his heir a well-deserving son?  
Take Herfords' 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 forbidden I say true,  
If you do wrongfully seize Herfords' right,  
Call in his Letters Patents that he hath  
By his Attorneys general, to sue  
His Livery, and deny his offered homage,  
You pluck a thousand ●angers on your head,  
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,  
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts  
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.  Ric. 
Think what you will: we seize into our hands,  
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.  Yor. 
I'll no● 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. Rich. 
Go Bushie 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 lou●d us well.  
Come on out Queen, to morrow must we part,  
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.  Flourish. Manet North▪ Willoughby, & Ross. Nor. 
Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.  Ross. 
And living too, for now his son is Duke.  Wil 
Barely in title, not in revennew.  Nor. 
Richly in both, if justice had her right.  Ross. 
My heart is great: but it must break with silence,  
ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue.  Nor. 
Nay speak thy mind: & let him ne'er speak more  
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm.  Wil 
Tends that thou'dst speak to th' Duke▪ of Hereford,  
If it be so, out with it boldly man,  
Quicke is mine ear to hear of good towards him.  Ross. 
No good at all that I can do for him,  
Unless you call it good to pity him,  
bereavest and gelded of his patrimony.  Nor. 
Now afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne,  
In him a royal Prince, and many more  
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.  Ros. 
The Commons hath he piled with grievous taxes  
And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he find  
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.  Wil 
And daily new exactions are devised,  
As blanks▪ benevolences, and I wots not what:  
But what o' God's name doth become of this?  Nor. 
Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not.  
But basely yielded upon compromise,  
That which his Ancestors achieved with blows:  
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars.  Ros. 
The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in Farm.  Wil 
The Kings grown bankrupt like a broken man.  Nor. 
Reproach, and dissolution hangeth over him.  Ros. 
He hath not money for these Irish wars:  
(His burdenous taxations notwithstanding)  
But by the robbing of the banished Duke.  Nor. 
His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:  
But Lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,  
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm:  
We see the wind sit sore upon our salles,  
And yet we strike not, but securely perish  Ros. 
We see the very wrack that we must suffer,  
And ●auoyded is the danger now  
For ●irst●ng so the causes of our wrack.  Nor. 
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.  Wil 
Nay let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours  Ros. 
Be confident to speak Northumberland,  
We three, are but thyself, and speaking so,  
Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold.  Nor. 
Then thus: I have from Port le Blan  
A Bay in Britain, received intelligence,  
That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham,  
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,  
His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury,  
Sir Thomas Erpingham Sir john Rainston,  
Sir john Norberie, Sir Robert W●terton, & Francis Quoint,  
All these well furnished by the Duke of Britain,  
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 blemished Crown,  
Wipe off the dust that hides our Sceptres gilded,  
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.  Ros. 
To horse, to horse, urge doubts to them that fear.  Wil 
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot. Bush. 
Madam, your Majesty is too much sad,  
You promised when you parted with the King,  
To lay aside selfe-harming heaviness,  
And entertain a cheerful disposition.  Qu. 
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 me thinks,  
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb  
Is coming towards me, and my inward soul  
With nothing trembles, at something it grieves,  
More than with parting from my Lord the King.  Bush. 
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 looked on as it is, is naught 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, weep things imaginary.  Qu. 
It may be so: but yet my inward soul  
Persuades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,  
I cannot but be sad: so heavy sad,  
As though on thinking on no thought I think,  
●akes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.  Bush. 
'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)  Qu. 
'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived  
From some fore father grief, mine is not so,  
For nothing hath 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 wots.  Enter Greene. Gree. 
Heaven save your Majesty, and well met Gentlemen:  
I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland.  Qu. 
Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope he is:  
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope,  
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped?  Gre. 
That he our hope, might have retired his power,  
and driven into despair an enemies hope,  
Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.  
The banished Bullingbrooke repeals himself,  
And with up-lifted Arms is safe arrived  
At Ravenspurg.  Qu. 
Now God in heaven forbidden.  Gr. 
O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,  
The L. Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy,  
The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby,  
With all their powerful friends are fled to him.  Bush. 
Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland  
And the rest of the revolted faction, Traitors?  Gre. 
We have: where upon the Earl of Worcester  
Hath broke his staff, resigned his Stewardship,  
And all the household servant, fled with him to Bullinbrook  Qu. 
So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe,  
And Bullinbrooke my sorrow's dismal heir:  
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,  
And I a gasping new delivered mother,  
Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined.  Bush. 
Despair not Madam.  Qu. 
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 hopes linger in extremity.  Enter York Gre. 
here comes the Duke of York.  Qu. 
With signs of war about his aged neck,  
Oh full of careful business are his looks:  
Uncle▪ for heavens sake speak comfortable words:  Yor. 
Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,  
Where nothing life's but crosses, care and grief:  
Your husband he is gone to sail fare 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 flattered him.  Enter a servant. Ser. 
My Lord, your son was gone before I came.  Yor. 
He was: why so: go all which way it will▪  
The Nobleses they are fled, the Commons they are cold,  
And will I fear revolt on Herfords' side.  
Sirrah, get thee to Plathie to my sister Gloster,  
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,  
Hold, take my Ring.  Ser. 
My Lord, I had forgot  
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and called there,  
But ● shall grieve you to report the rest.  Yor. 
What is't knave?  Ser. 
An hour before I came, the Duchess died.  Yor. 
Heaven for his mercy, what a tide of woes  
Come rushing on this woeful Land at once?  
I know not what to do: I would to heaven  
(So my untruth had not provoked him to it)  
The King had cut off my head with my brothers.  
What, are there posts dispatched 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, poovide some Carts,  
And bring away the Armour that is there.  
Gentlemen, will you muster men?  
If I know how, or which way to order these affairs  
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,  
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen,  
Th' one is my Sovereign, whom both my oath  
And duty bids defend: th' other again  
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged,  
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 Barkley Castle:  
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit,  
All is uneven, and every thing is left at six and seven.  Exit Bush 
The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,  
But none returns: For us to levy power  
Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible.  Gr. 
Besides our nearness to the King in love,  
Is near the hate of those love not the King.  Ba 
And that's the wavering Commons, for their love  
Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,  
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.  Bush. 
Wherein the king stands generally condemned  Bag. 
If judgement lie in them, than so do we,  
Because we have been ever near the King.  Gr. 
Well: I will for refuge strait to Bristol Castle,  
The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.  Bush. 
Thither will I with you, for little office  
Will the hateful Commons perform for us,  
Except like Curs, to tear us all in pieces:  
Will you go along with us?  Bag. 
No; I will to Ireland to his Majesty:  
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vain,  
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again.  Bu. 
That's as York thrives to beat back Bullinbroke  Gr. 
Alas poor Duke, the task he undertakes  
I● numbering sands, and drinking Ocean's dry,  
Where one on his side sights, thousands will fly.  Bush. 
Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.  
Well, we may meet again.  Bag. 
I fear me never.  Exit  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland. Bul. 
How fare is it my Lord to Berkley now?  Nor. 
Believe me noble Lord,  
I am a stranger here in Gloustershire,  
These high wild hills, and rough uneeven ways,  
Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome:  
And yet our fair discourse hath been as sugar,  
Making the hard way sweet and delectable:  
But ● bethink me, what a weary way  
From Ravenspurgh to Cottshold will be found,  
In Rosse 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 that I possess;  
And hope to joy, is little less in joy,  
Then hope enjoyed: By this, the weary Lords  
Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done,  
By sight of what I have, your Noble Company.  Bull. 
Of much less value is my Company,  
Then your good words: but who comes here?  Enter H. Percy. North. 
It is my Son, young Harry Percy,  
Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soever.  
Harry, how fares your Uncle?  Percy. 
I had thought, my Lord, to have learned his health of you.  North. 
Why, is he not with the Queen?  Percy. 
No, my good Lord, he hath forsaken the Court,  
Broken his Staff of Office, and dispersed  
The Household of the King.  North. 
What was his reason?  
He was not so resolved, when we last spoke together.  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 Barkely, to discover  
What power the Duke of York had levied there,  
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurgh.  North. 
Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)  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.  North. 
Then learn to know him now: this is the Duke.  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.  Bull. 
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.  North. 
How fare is it to Barkely? and what stir  
Keeps good old York there, with his Men of War?  Percy. 
There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees,  
Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard,  
And in it are the Lords of York, Barkely, and Seymor,  
None else of Name, and noble estimate.  Enter Rosse a●d Willoughby. North. 
Here con n● the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby,  
Bloody with spurring, si● red with hazel.  Bull. 
Welcome my Lords, I wots your love pursues  
A banished Pray● 〈◊〉 my Treasury  
〈◊〉 that vasel 〈…〉, which more enriched,  
Shall be your love, and lab was recompense.  R●. 
Your presence makes us rich, most Noble Lord.  〈◊〉. 
And sure surmounts our labour to attain it.  〈◊〉. 
Evermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poor,  
Which till my infant-fortune comes to years,  
Stands for my Bounty: but who comes here?  Enter Barkely. North. 
It is my Lord of Barkely, as I guess.  Bark. 
My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you.  Bull. 
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.  Bark. 
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 glorious 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 selfeborne Arms.  Enter York. Bull. 
I shall not need transport my words by you,  
Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Uncle.  York. 
Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,  
Whose duty is deceivable, and false.  Bull. 
My gracious Uncle.  York. 
Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Uncle me,  
I am no Traitor's Uncle; and that word Grace,  
In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.  
Why have these banished, and forbidden Legs,  
Dared once to touch a Dust of England's Ground?  
But more than 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 th' anointed King is hence?  
Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind,  
And in my loyal Bosom lies his power.  
Were I bu● now the Lord of such hot youth,  
A● when brave Gaunt, thy Father, and myself  
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,  
From forth the Ranks of many thousand French:  
Oh then, how quickly should this Arm of mine,  
Now Prisoner to the Palsy, chastise thee,  
And minister correction to thy Fault.  Bull. 
My gracious Uncle, let me know my Fault,  
On what Condition stands it, and wherein?  York. 
Even in Condition of the worst degree,  
In gross Rebellion, and detested Treason:  
Thou art a banished man, and here art come  
Before th' expiration of thy time,  
In braving Arms against thy Sovereign.  Bull. 
As I was banished, I was banished 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 me thinks in you  
I see old Gaunt alive. Oh than my Father,  
Will you permit, that I shall stand condemned  
A wand'ring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties  
Plucked from my arms perforce, and given away  
To upstart Unthrifts? Wherefore was I borne?  
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 Kinsman,  
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 distraynd▪ and sold,  
And these, and all, are all amiss employed.  
What would you have me do? I am a Subject,  
And challenge Law: Attorneyes are denied me;  
And therefore personally I lay my claim  
To my Inheritance of free Descent.  North. 
The Noble Duke hath been too much abused.  Ross. 
It stands your Grace upon, to do him right.  Willo. 
Base men by his endowments are made great.  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 Wrongs, it may not be;  
And you that do abett him in this kind,  
Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all.  North. 
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.  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 far you well,  
Unless you please to enter in the Castle,  
And there repose you for this Night.  Bull. 
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 Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices,  
The Caterpillars of the Commonwealth,  
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.  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.  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter Salisbury, and a Captain. Capt. 
My Lord of Salisbury, we have stayed ten days,  
And hardly kept our Countrymen together,  
And yet we hear no tidings from the King;  
Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell.  Sal. 
Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman,  
The King reposeth all his confidence in thee.  Capt. 
'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay;  
The Bay-trees in our Country all are withered,  
And Meteors fright the fixed Stars of Heaven;  
The pale-faced Moon looks bloody on the Earth,  
And leane-looked 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 of Kings.  
Farewell, our Countrymen are gone and fled;  
As well assured Richard their King is dead.  Exit. Sal. 
Ah Richard, with 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.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Bullingbrooke, York, Northumberland, Rosse, Percy, Willoughby, with Bushy and Greene Prisoners. Bull. 
Bring forth these men:  
Bushie and Greene, 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 stained the beauty of a fair Queen's Cheeks,  
With tears drawn from her eyes, with 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 misinterprete me,  
Have stooped my neck under your injuries,  
And sighed my English breath in foreign Clouds,  
Eating the bitter bread of banishment;  
While you have fed upon my Seignories,  
Dis-parked my Parks, and felled my Forest Woods;  
From mine own Windows torn my Household Coat,  
Razed out my Impress, 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 delivered over  
To execution, and the hand of death.  Bushie. 
More welcome is the stroke of death to me,  
Then Bullingbrooke to England.  Greene. 
My comfort is, that Heaven will take our souls,  
And plague Injustice with the pains of Hell.  Bull. 
My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatched:  
Uncle, you say the Queen is at your House,  
For Heaven's sake fairly let her be entreated,  
Tell her I send to her my kind commends;  
Take special care my Greetings be delivered.  York. 
A Gentleman of mine I have dispatched  
With Letters of your love, to her at large.  Bull. 
Thanks gentle Uncle: come Lords away,  
To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices;  
A while to work, and after holiday.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Drums: Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlisle, and Soldiers. Rich. 
Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?  Au. 
Yea, my Lord: how brook: your Grace the air,  
After your late tossing on the breaking Seas?  Rich. 
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 Horse's hooves:  
As a long parted Mother with her Child,  
Plays fond with her tears, and smiles in meeting;  
So weeping, smiling, greet I thee my Earth,  
And do thee favour 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 heavie-gated 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 prithee 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 Rebellious Arms.  Car. 
Fear not my Lord, that Power that made you King  
Hath power to keep you King, in spite of all.  Aum. 
He means, my Lord, that we are too remiss,  
Whilst Bullingbrooke through our security,  
Grows strong and great, in substance and in friends.  Rich. 
Uncomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not,  
That when the searching Eye of Heaven is hid  
Behind the Globe, that lights the lower World,  
Then Thiefs and Robbers range abroad unseen,  
In Murders and in Outrage bloody here:  
But when from under this Terrestrial Ball  
He fires the proud tops of the Eastern Pines,  
And darts his Lightning through every guilty hole,  
Then Murders, Treasons, and detested sins  
(The Cloak of Night being plucked from off their backs)  
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves.  
So when this Thief, this Traitor Bullingbrooke,  
Who all this while hath reuelled in the Night,  
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 selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sin.  
Not all the Water in the rough rude Sea  
Can wash the Balm from an anointed King;  
The breath of worldly men cannot depose  
The Deputy elected by the Lord:  
For every man that Bullingbrooke hath pressed,  
To lift shrewd Steel against our Golden Crown,  
Heaven 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 Salisbury. 
Welcome my Lord, how fare off lies your Power?  Salisb. 
Nor near, nor farther off, my gracious Lord,  
Then this weak arm; discomfort guides my tongue,  
And bids me speak of nothing but despair:  
One day too late, I fear (my Noble Lord)  
Hath clouded all thy happy days on Earth:  
Oh call back Yesterday, bid Time return,  
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fight men:  
To day, to day, unhappy day too late  
Overthrow thy joys, Friends, Fortune, and thy State;  
For all the Welshmen hearing thou wert dead,  
Are gone to Bullingbrooke, dispersed, and fled.  Aum. 
Comfort my Liege, why looks your Grace so pale?  Rich. 
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.  Aum. 
Comfort my Liege, remember who you are.  Rich. 
I had forgot myself. Am I not King?  
Awake thou sluggard Majesty, thou sleepest:  
Is not the King's Name forty 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 Scroop. Scroop. 
More health and happiness betide my Liege,  
Then can my care-tuned tongue deliver him  Rich. 
Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared:  
The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold:  
Say, Is my Kingdom loft? why 'twas my Care:  
And what loss is it to be rid of Care?  
Strives Bullingbrooke 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, Loss, Decay,  
The worst is Death, and Death will have his day.  Scroop. 
Glad am I, that your Highness is so armed  
To bear the tidings of Calamity.  
Like an unseasonable stormy day,  
Which make the Silver Rivers drown their Shores,  
As if the World were all dissolved to tears:  
So high, above his Limits, swells the Rage  
Of Bullingbrooke, covering your fearful Land  
With hard bright Steel, and hearts harder than Steel:  
White Bears have armed their thin and haireless Scalps  
Against thy Majesty, and Boys with women's Voices,  
Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints  
In stiff unwieldy Arms: against thy Crown  
Thy very Beadsmen learn to bend their Bows  
Of double fatal Yew: against thy State  
Yea Distaffe-Women manage rusty Bills:  
Against thy Seat both young and old rebel,  
And all goes worse than I have power to tell.  Rich. 
Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill.  
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?  
What is become of Bushie? 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 Bullingbrooke.  Scroop. 
Peace have they made with him indeed (my Lord.)  Rich. 
Oh Villains, Vipers, damned without redemption,  
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man,  
Snakes in my heart blood-warmed, that sting my heart,  
Three judasses, each one thrice worse than judas,  
Would they make peace? terrible Hell make war  
Upon their spotted Souls for this Offence.  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 hand,  
And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.  Aum. 
Is Bushie Greene, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?  Scroop. 
Yea all of them at Bristol lost their heads.  Aum. 
Where is the Duke my Father with his Power?  Rich. 
No matter where; of comfort no man speak:  
Let's talk of Graves, of Worms, and Epitaphs,  
Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes  
Writ 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 Bullingbrookes',  
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 Heaven'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 poisoned by their Wives, some sleeping killed,  
All murdered. For within the hollow Crown  
That rounds the mortal Temples of a King,  
Keeps Death his Court, and there the Antique sits  
Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pomp,  
Allowing him a breath, a little Scene,  
To Monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,  
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,  
As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life,  
Were Brass impregnable: and humoured thus,  
Comes at the last, and with a little Pin  
Boars through his Castle Walls, 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?  Carl. 
My Lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woes,  
But presently prevent the ways to wail:  
To fear the Foe, since fear oppresseth strength,  
Gives in your weakness, strength unto your Foe;  
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.  Aum. 
My Father hath a Power, inquire of him,  
And learn to make a Body of a Limb.  Rich. 
Thou chidest me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come  
To change Blows with thee, for our day of Doom:  
This ague fit of fear is overblown,  
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.  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 joined with Bullingbrooke,  
And all your Northern Castles yielded up,  
And all your Southern Gentlemen in Arms  
Upon his Faction.  Rich. 
Thou hast said enough.  
Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth  
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, Woes slave, shall Kingly Woe obey:  
That Power I have, discharge, and let 'em 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.  Aum. 
My Liege, one word.  Rich. 
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 Bullingbrookes' fair Day.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke, York, Northumberland, Attendants. Bull. 
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.  North. 
The news is very fair and good, my Lord, Richard, not fare from hence, hath hid his head.  York. 
It would beseem the Lord Northumberland,  
To say King Richard: alack the heavy day,  
When such a sacred King should hide his head.  North. 
Your Grace mistakes: only to be brief,  
Left I his Title out.  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 heads length.  Bull. 
Mistake not (Uncle) farther than you should.  York. 
Take not (good Cousin) farther than you should.  
Lest you mistake the Heavens are over your head.  Bull. 
I know it (Uncle) and oppose not myself  
Against their will. But who comes here?  Enter Percy. 
Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yield?  Per. 
The Castle royally is manned, my Lord,  
Against thy entrance.  Bull. 
Royally? Why, it contains no King?  Per. 
Yes (my good Lord)  
It doth contain a King: King Richard lies  
Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone,  
And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,  
Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a Clergy man  
Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn.  North. 
Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile.  Bull. 
Noble Lord,  
Go to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle,  
Through Brazen Trumpet send the breath of Parle  
Into his ruined Ears, and thus deliver:  
Henry Bullingbrooke upon his knees doth kiss  
King Richard's hand, and sends allegiance  
And true faith of heart to his Royal Person: hither come  
Even at his feet, to lay my Arms and Power,  
Provided, that my Banishment repealed,  
And Lands restored again, be freely granted:  
If not, I'll use th' advantage of my Power,  
And lay the Summer's dust with showers of blood,  
Rained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen;  
The which, how fare off from the mind of Bullingbrooke  
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 Castles tattered Battlements  
Our fair Appointments may be well perused.  
Me thinks King Richard and myself should meet  
With no less terror than the Elements  
Of Fire and Water, when their thundering smoke  
At meeting tears the cloudy Cheeks of Heaven:  
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding Water;  
The Rage be his, while 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, Richard, Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, Salisbury. 
See, see, King Richard doth himself appear  
As doth the blushing discontented Sun,  
From out the fiery Portall of the East,  
When he perceives the envious Clouds are bend  
To dim his glory, and to stain the tract  
Of his bright passage to the Occident.  York. 
Yet looks he like a King: behold his Eye  
(As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth  
Controlling Majesty: alack, alack, for woe,  
That any harm should stain so fair a show.  Rich. 
We are amazed, and thus long have we stood  
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,  
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 Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinks he is,  
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 Mother's Sons  
Shall ill become the flower of England's face,  
Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace  
To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew  
Her Pastor's Grass with faithful English Blood.  North. 
The King of Heaven forbidden our Lord the King  
Should so with civil and uncivil Arms  
Be rushed upon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin,  
Harry Bullingbrooke, 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,  
Then 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.  Rich. 
Northumberland, say thus: The King returns,  
His Noble Cousin is right welcome hither,  
And all the number of his fair demands  
Shall be accomplished without contradiction:  
With all the gracious utterance thou hast,  
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends,  
We do debase ourself (Cousin) do we not,  
To look so poorly, and to speak so fair?  
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send  
Defiance to the Traitor, and so die?  Aum. 
No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words,  
Till tune lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords.  Rich. 
Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine,  
That laid the Sentence of dread Banishment  
On yond proud man, should take it off again  
With words of sooth: Oh 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:  
Swellest thou proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,  
Since Foes have scope to beat both thee and me.  Aum. 
Northumberland comes back from Bullingbrooke.  Rich. 
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 Almes-mans' 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 tenderhearted 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 Wantoness 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, digged their Graves with weeping Eyes?  
Would not this ill, do well? Well, well, I see  
I talk but idly, and you mock at me.  
Most mighty Prince, my Lord Northumberland,  
What says King Bullingbrooke? Will his Majesty  
Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die?  
You make a Leg, and Bullingbrooke says I.  North. 
My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend  
To speak with you, may it please you to come down.  Rich. 
down, down I come, like glistering Phaeton,  
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.  Bull. 
What says his Majesty?  North. 
Sorrow, and grief of heart  
Makes him speak fond, like a frantic man:  
Yet he is come.  Bull. 
Stand all apart,  
And show fair duty to his Majesty.  
My gracious Lord.  Rich. 
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,  
Then my unpleased Eye see your Courtesy.  
up Cousin, up, your Heart is up, I know,  
Thus high at least, although your Knee below.  Bull. 
My gracious Lord, I come but for mine own.  Rich. 
Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.  Bull. 
So fare be mine, my most redoubted Lord,  
As my true service shall deserve your love.  Rich. 
Well you deserved:  
They well deserve to have,  
That know the strongest, and surest way to get.  
Uncle give me your Hand: 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 to,  
For do we must, what force will have us do.  
Set on towards London:  
Cousin, is it so?  Bull. 
Yea, my good Lord.  Rich. 
Then I must not say, no.  Flourish. Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter the Queen, and two Ladies. Qu. 
What sport shall we device here in this Garden,  
To drive away the heavy thought of Care?  La. 
Madame, we'll play at Bowls.  Qu. 
'Twill make me think the World is full of Rubs,  
And that my fortune runs against the Bias.  La. 
Madame, we'll Dance.  Qu. 
My Legs can keep no measure in Delight,  
When my poor Heart no measure keeps in Grief.  
Therefore no Dancing (Girl) some other sport.  La. 
Madame, we'll tell Tales.  Qu. 
Of Sorrow, or of Grief?  La. 
Of either, Madame.  Qu. 
Of neither, Girl.  
For if 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.  La. 
Madame, I'll sing.  Qu. 
'Tis well that thou hast cause:  
But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.  La. 
I could weep, Madame, would it do you good.  Qu. 
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 comes the Gardiner's,  
Let's step into the shadow of these Trees.  
My wretchedness, unto a Row of Pinnes,  
They'll talk of State: for every one doth so,  
Against a Change; Woe is forerun with Woe.  Gard. 
Go bind thou up yond 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 employed, I will go root away  
The noisome Weeds, that without profit suck  
The Soils fertility from wholesome flowers.  Ser. 
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 vnpruined, her Hedges ruined,  
Her Knots disordered, and her wholesome Herbs  
Swarming with Caterpillars.  Gard. 
Hold thy peace.  
He that hath suffered this disordered Spring,  
Hath now himself met with the Fall of leaf.  
The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaves did shelter,  
That seemed, in eating him, to hold him up,  
Are pulled up, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke:  
I mean, the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushie, Greene.  Ser. 
What are they dead?  Gard. 
They are,  
And Bullingbrooke hath seized the wasteful King.  
Oh, what pity is it, that he had not so trimmed  
And dressed his Land, as we this Garden, at time of year,  
And wound the Bark, the skin of our Fruit-trees,  
Lest being over-proud with 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 and idle hours, hath quite thrown down.  Ser. 
What think you the King shall be deposed?  Gar. 
Depressed he is already, and deposed  
'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night  
To a dear Friend of the Duke of York's,  
That tell black tidings.  Qu. 
Oh I am pressed to death through want of speaking:  
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  
Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speak thou wretch.  Gard. 
Pardon me Madam. Little joy have I  
To breathe these news; yet what I say, is true;  
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold  
Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weighed:  
In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himself,  
And some few Vanities, that make him light:  
But in the Balance of great Bullingbrooke,  
Besides himself, are all the English Peers,  
And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.  
Post you to London, and you'll find it so,  
I speak no more, than every one doth know.  Qu. 
Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,  
Doth not thy Embassage belong to me?  
And am I last that knows it? Oh thou thinkest  
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 borne to this: that my sad look,  
Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke.  
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe,  
I would the Plants thou graftest, may never grow.  Exit. G 
Poor Queen, so that thy State might be no worse,  
I would my skill were subject to thy curse:  
here did she drop a tear, here in this place  
I'll set a Bank of Rew, sour Herb of Grace:  
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,  
In the remembrance of a Weeping Queen.  Exit.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, Northumberland Percy, Fitz-Water Surroy, Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster. Herald, Officers, and Bagot. Bullingbrooke. 
Call forth Bagot.  
Now Bagot, freely speak thy mind,  
What thou dost know of Noble Glousters death:  
Who wrought it with the King, and who performed  
The bloody Office of his Timeless end.  Bag. 
Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle.  Bul. 
Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.  Bag. 
My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue  
Scorns to unsay, what it hath once delivered.  
In that dead time, when Glousters' death was plotted,  
I heard you say. Is not my arm of length,  
That reacheth from the restful English Court  
As fare as Calais, to my 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,  
Then Bullingbrookes' return to England; adding withal,  
How blessed this Land would be, in this your Cousin's death.  Aum. 
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 soiled  
With th' Attaindor of his slanderous Lips.  
There is my Gage, the manual Seal of death  
That marks thee out for Hell. 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.  Bul. 
Bagot forbear, thou shalt not take it up.  Aum. 
Excepting one, I would he were the best  
In all this presence, that hath moved me so.  Fitz. 
If that thy valour stand on sympathise:  
There is my Gage, Aumerle, in Gage to thine:  
By that fair Sun, that shows me where thou standest,  
I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it)  
That thou were't cause of Noble Glousters death.  
If thou deniest it, twenty times thou liest,  
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy hart,  
Where it was forged with my Rapier's point.  Aum. 
Thou darest not (Coward) live to see the day.  Fitz. 
Now by my Soul, I would it were this hour.  Aum. 
Fitzwater thou art damned to hell for this.  Per. 
Aumerle, thou lye'st: 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 th' extremest point  
Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou darest.  Aum. 
And if I do not, may my hands rot off,  
And never brandish more revengeful Steel,  
Over the glittering Helmet of my Foe.  Surrey. 
My Lord Fitz-water:  
I do remember well, the very time  
Aumerle, and you did talk.  Fitz. 
My Lord,  
'Tis very true: You were in presence then,  
And you can witness with me, this is true.  Surrey. 
As false, by heaven,  
As Heaven itself is true.  Fitz. 
Surrey, thou Liest.  Surrey. 
Dishonourable Boy;  
That Lie, shall lie so heavy on my Sword,  
That it shall render Vengeance, and Revenge,  
Till thou the Lye-giver, and that Lie, do lie  
In earth as quiet, as thy Father's Scull.  
In proof whereof, there is mine Honour's pawn,  
Engage it to the Trial, if thou darest.  Fitzw. 
How fond 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 intent to thrive in this new World,  
Aumerle is guilty of my true Appeal.  
Besides, I heard the banished Norfolk say,  
That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men,  
To execute the Noble Duke at Calais.  Aum. 
Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage,  
That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this,  
If he may be repealed, to try his Honor.  Bull. 
These differences shall all rest under Gage,  
Till Norfolk be repealed: repealed he shall be;  
And (though mine Enemy) restored again  
To all his Lands and Seignories: when he's returned,  
Against Aumerle we will enforce his Trial.  Carl. 
That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.  
Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought  
For jesus Christ, in glorious Christian field  
Streaming the Ensign of the Christian Cross,  
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens:  
And toiled 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.  Bull. 
Why Bishop, is Norfolk dead?  Carl. 
As sure as I live, my Lord.  Bull. 
Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soul  
To the Bosom of good old Abraham.  
Lord's Appealants, your differences shall all rest under gage,  
Till we assign you to your days of Trial.  Enter York. York. 
Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee  
From plume-pluckt 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, of that Name the Fourth.  Bull. 
In God's Name, I'll ascend the Regal Throne.  Carl. 
Marry, Heaven forbidden.  
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 Nobleness 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?  
Thiefs 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, Growned, planted many years,  
Be judged by subject, and inferior breath,  
And he himself not present? Oh, forbidden it, God,  
That in a Christian Climate, Souls refin'de  
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed.  
I speak to Subjects, and a Subject speaks,  
Stirred up by Heaven, 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 Age's groan for his foul Act.  
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels,  
And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Wars  
Shall Kin with Kinne, and Kind with Kind confound.  
Disorder, Horror, Fear, and Mutiny  
Shall here inhabit, and this Land be called  
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's Sculls.  
Oh, if you rear this House, against this House  
It will the woefullest Division prove,  
That ever fell upon this cursed Earth.  
Prevent it, resist it, and let it not be so,  
Lest Child, Child's Children cry against you, Woe.  North. 
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?  Bull. 
Fetch hither Richard, that in common view  
He may surrender: so we shall proceed  
Without suspicion.  York. 
I will be his Conduct.  Exit. Bull. 
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 looked for at your helping Hands.  Enter Richard and York. Rich. 
Alack, why am I sent for to a King,  
Before I have shaken off the Regal thoughts  
Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned  
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my Knee.  
Give Sorrow leave a while, to tuture 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?  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 Bullingbrooke.  Rich. 
Give me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize the Crown:  
Here Cousin, on this side my Hand, on that side thine.  
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.  Bull. 
I thought you had been willing to resign.  Rich. 
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.  Bull. 
Part of your Cares you give me with your Crown.  Rich. 
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:  Bull. 
Are you contended to resign the Crown?  Rich. 
I, no; no, I: 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 duteous Oaths;  
All Pomp and Majesty I do forswear:  
My Manors, Rents, Revenues, I forgo;  
My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I deny:  
God pardon all Oaths that are broke to me,  
God keep all Vows unbroke are made to thee.  
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved,  
And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved.  
Long may'st thou live in Richard's Seat to sit,  
And soon lie Richard in an Earthy Pit.  
God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says,  
And send him many years of Sunshine days.  
What more remains?  North. 
No, more: but that you read  
These Accusations, and these grievous Crymes,  
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.  Rich. 
Must I do so? and must I ravel out  
My weau'd-vp follies? 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,  
Marked with a Blot, damned in the Book of Heaven.  
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,  
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,  
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,  
Showing an outward pity: yet you pilate's  
Have here delivered me to my sour Cross,  
And Water cannot wash away your sin.  North. 
My Lord dispatch, read o'er these Articles.  Rich. 
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 Souls consent,  
T'vndeck the pompous Body of a King;  
Made Glory base; a Sovereignty, a Slave;  
Proud Majesty, a Subject; State, a Peasant.  North. 
My Lord.  Rich. 
No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man;  
No, nor no man's Lord: I have no Name, no Title;  
No, not that Name was given me at the Font.  
But 'tis usurped: alack the heavy day,  
That I have worn so many Winters out,  
And know not now, what Name to call myself.  
Oh, that I were a Mockery, King of Snow,  
Standing before the Sun of Bullingbrooke,  
To melt myself away in Water-drops.  
Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,  
And if my word be Sterling yet in England,  
Let it command a Mirror hither strait,  
That it may show me what a Face I have,  
Since it is Bankrupt of his Majesty.  Bull. 
Go some of you, and fetch a Lookingglass.  North. 
Read o'er this Paper, while the Glass doth come.  Rich. 
Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell.  Bull. 
Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.  North. 
The Commons will not then be satisfied.  Rich. 
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.  Enter one with a Glass. 
Give me that 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? Oh 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?  
Is this the Face, which faced so many follies,  
That was at last outfaced by Bullingbrooke?  
A brittle Glory shineth in this Face,  
As brittle as the Glory, is the Face,  
For there it is, cracked in an hundred shivers.  
Mark silent King, the Moral of this sport,  
How soon my Sorrow hath destroyed my Face.  Bull. 
The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroyed  
The shadow of your Face.  Rich. 
Say that again.  
The shadow of my Sorrow: ha', let's see,  
'Tis very true, my Grief lies all within,  
And these external manner 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 giv'st  
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?  Bull. 
Name it, fair Cousin.  Rich. 
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.  Bull. 
Yet ask.  Rich. 
And shall I have?  Bull. 
You shall.  Rich. 
Then give me leave to go.  Bull. 
Whither?  Rich. 
Wither you will, so I were from your sights.  Bull. 
Go some of you, convey him to the Tower.  Rich. 
Oh good: convey: Conueyers are you all,  
That rise thus nimbly by a true King's fall.  Bull. 
On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down  
Our Coronation: Lords, prepare yourselves.  Exeunt. Abbot. 
A woeful Pageant have we here beheld.  Carl. 
The Woes to come, the Children yet unborn,  
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as Thorn.  Aum. 
You holy Clergymen, is there no Plot  
To rid the Realm of this pernicious Blot.  Abbot. 
Before I freely speak my mind herein,  
You shall not only take the Sacrament,  
To bury mine intents, but also to effect  
What ever I shall happen to device.  
I see your Brows are full of Discontent,  
Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Tears.  
Come home with me to Supper, I'll lay a Plot  
Shall show us all a merry day.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Queen, and Ladies. Qu. 
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 doomed a Prisoner, by proud Bullingbrooke.  
Here let us rest, if this rebellious Earth  
Have any resting for her true King's Queen.  Enter Richard and Guard. 
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,  
My fair Rose whither: 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 Yombe,  
And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inn,  
Why should hard-favoured Grief be lodged in thee,  
When Triumph is become an Alehouse Guest.  Rich. 
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. High 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.  Qu. 
What, is my Richard both in shape and mind  
Transformed, and weakened? Hath Bullingbrooke  
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're-powred: and wilt thou, Pupill-like,  
Take thy Correction mildly, kiss the Rod,  
And fawn on Rage with base Humility,  
Which art a Lion, and a King of Beasts?  Rich. 
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 tak'st,  
As from my Deathbed, my 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 betide:  
And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their grief,  
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,  
And send the hearers weeping to their Beds:  
For why? the senseless Brands will sympathise  
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. North. 
My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is changed.  
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.  
And Madame, there is order ta'en for you:  
With all swift speed, you must away to France.  Rich. 
Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithal  
The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne,  
The time shall not be many hours of age,  
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,  
Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think,  
Though he divide the Realm, and give thee half,  
It is too little, helping him to all:  
He shall think, that thou which knowst 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 friends converts to Fear;  
That Fear, to Hate; and Hate turns one, or both,  
To worthy Danger, and deserved Death.  North. 
My guilt be on my Head, and there an end:  
Take leave, and part, for you must part forthwith.  Rich. 
Doubly divorced? (bad men) ye violate  
A twofold Marriage; 'twixt my Crown, and me,  
And then betwixt me, and my married Wife.  
Let me unkisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me;  
And yet not so, for with a Kiss 'twas made.  
Part us, Northumberland: I, towards the North,  
Where shivering Cold and Sickness pines the Clime:  
My Queen to France: from whence, set forth in pomp,  
She came adorned hither like sweet May;  
Sent back like Hollowmas▪ or shortest of day.  Qu. 
And must we be divided? must we part?  Rich. 
I, hand from hand (my Love) and heart from heart.  Qu. 
Banish us both, and send the King with me.  North. 
That were some Love, but little Policy.  Qu. 
Then whither he goes, thither let me go.  Rich. 
So two together weeping, make one Woe.  
Weep thou for me in France; I, for thee here:  
Better fare off, then near, be ne'er the near.  
Go, count thy Way with Sighs; I, mine with Groans.  Qu. 
So longest Way shall have the longest Moans.  Rich. 
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 dumbely part;  
Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.  Qu. 
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 may strive to kill it with a groan.  Rich. 
We make Woe wanton with this fond delay:  
Once more adieu; the rest, let Sorrow say.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter York, and his Duchess. Duch. 
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.  York. 
Where did I leave?  Duch. 
At that sad stop, my Lord,  
Where rude mis-gouerned hands, from Windows tops,  
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.  York. 
Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke,  
Mounted upon a hot and fiery Steed,  
Which his aspiring Rider seemed to know,  
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course:  
While all tongues cried, God save thee Bullingbrooke.  
You would have thought the very windows spoke,  
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,  
jesus preserve thee, welcome Bullingbrooke.  
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,  
Bareheaded, lower than his proud Steeds neck,  
Bespoke them thus: I thank you Countrymen:  
And thus still doing, thus he passed along.  Dutch. 
Alas poor Richard, where rides he the whilst?  York. 
As in a Theatre, the eyes of men  
After a well graced Actor leaves the Stage,  
Are idly bend on him that enters next,  
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:  
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes  
Did scowl on 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 shaken off,  
His face still combating with tears and smiles  
(The badges of his grief and patience)  
That had not God (for some strong purpose) steeled  
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 bond our calm contents.  
To Bullingbrooke, are we sworn Subjects now,  
Whose State, and Honour, I for aye allow.  Enter Aumerle. Dut. 
here comes my son Aumerle.  Yor. 
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 newmade King.  Dut. 
Welcome my son: who are the Violets now,  
That strew the green lap of the new-come Spring?  Aum. 
Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not,  
God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.  York. 
Well, bear you well in this new-spring of time  
Lest you be cropped before you come to prime.  
What news from Oxford? Hold those justs & Triumphs?  Aum. 
For aught I know my Lord, they do.  York. 
You will be there I know.  Aum. 
If God prevent not, I purpose so.  Yor. 
What Seal is that that hangs without thy bosom?  
Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing.  Aum. 
My Lord, 'tis nothing.  York. 
No matter then who sees it,  
I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing.  Aum. 
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,  
It is a matter of small consequence,  
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.  York. 
Which for some reason's sir, I mean to see:  
I fear, I fear.  Dut. 
What should you fear?  
'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is entered into  
For gay apparel, against the Triumph.  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.  Aum. 
I do beseech you pardon me, I may not show it.  Yor. 
I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.  Snatches it 
Treason, foul Treason, Villain, Traitor, Slave.  Dut. 
What's the matter, my Lord?  York. 
Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse.  
Heaven for his mercy: what treachery is here?  Dut. 
Why, what is't my Lord?  York. 
Give me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse:  
Now by my Honour, my life, my troth,  
I will appeach the Villain.  Dut. 
What is the matter?  York. 
Peace foolish Woman.  Dut. 
I will not peace. What is the matter Son?  Aum. 
Good Mother be content, it is no more  
Than my poor life must answer.  Dut. 
Thy life answer?  Enter Servant with Boots. Yor. 
Bring me my Boots, I will unto the King.  Dut. 
Strike him Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed,  
Hence Villain, never more come in my sight.  Yor. 
Give me my Boots, I say.  Dut. 
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?  Yor. 
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.  Dut. 
He shall be none:  
we'll keep him here: then what is that to him?  Yor. 
Away fond woman: were he twenty times my Son, I would appeach him.  Dut. 
Hadst thou groaned 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, nor any of my Kin,  
And yet I love him.  York. 
Make way, unruly Woman.  Exit Dut. 
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 Bullingbrooke have pardoned thee: Away be gone.  Exit  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Bullingbrooke, Percy, and other Lords. Bul. 
Can no man tell 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 heaven (my Lords) he might be found:  
Inquire at London, 'mongst the Taverns there:  
For there (they say) he daily doth frequent,  
With unrestrained lose Companions,  
Even such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes,  
And rob our Watch, and beat our passengers,  
Which he, young wanton, and effeminate Boy  
Takes on the point of Honour, to support  
So dissolute a crew.  Per. 
My Lord, some two days since I saw the Prince,  
And told him of these Triumphs held at Oxford.  Bul. 
And what said the Gallant?  Per. 
His answer was: he would unto the Stews,  
And from the commonest creature pluck a Glove  
And wear it as a favour, and with that  
He would unhorsed the lustiest Challenger.  Bul. 
As dissolute as desperate, yet through both,  
I see some sparks of better hope: which elder days  
May happily bring forth. But who comes here?  Enter Aumerle. Aum. 
Where is the King?  Bul. 
What means our Cousin, that he stairs  
And looks so wildly?  Aum. 
God save your Grace. I do beseech your Majesty  
To have some conference with your Grace alone.  Bul. 
Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone:  
What is the matter with our Cousin now?  Aum. 
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.  Bul. 
Intended, or committed was this fault?  
If on the first, how heinous ere it be,  
To win thy after love, I pardon thee.  Aum. 
Then give me leave, that I may turn the key,  
That no man enter, till my tale me done.  Bul. 
Have thy desire.  York within. Yor. 
My Liege beware, look to thyself,  
Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there.  Bul. 
Villain, I'll make thee safe.  Aum. 
Stay thy revengeful hand, thou hast no cause to fear.  York. 
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 York. Bul. 
What is the matter (Uncle) speak, recover breath,  
Tell us how near is danger,  
That we may arm us to encounter it.  Yor. 
Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know  
The reason that my haste forbids me show.  Aum. 
Remember as thou readest, thy promise past:  
I do repent me, read not my name there,  
My heart is not confederate with my hand.  Yor. 
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.  Bul. 
Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracy,  
O loyal Father of a treacherous Son:  
Thou shear, immaculate, and silver fountain,  
From whence this stream, through muddy passages  
Hath had 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.  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 life's, when his dishonour dies,  
Or my shamed life, in his dishonour lies:  
Thou killest me in his life, giving him breath,  
The Traitor life's, the true man's put to death.  Duchess within. Dut. 
What hoa (my Liege) for heaven's sake let me in.  Bul. 
What shrill-voiced Suppliant, makes this eager cry?  Dut. 
A woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I  
Speak with me, pity me, open the door,  
A Beggar begs, that never begged before.  Bul. 
Our Scene is altered from a serious thing,  
And now changed to the Beggar, and the King.  
My dangerous Cousin, let your Mother in,  
I know she's come, to pray for your foul sin.  York. 
If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,  
More sins for this forgiveness, prosper may.  
This festered joint cut off, the rest rests sound,  
This let alone, will all the rest confound.  Enter Duchess. Dut. 
O King, believe not this hardhearted man,  
Love, loving not itself, none other can.  Yor. 
Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here,  
Shall thy old dugs, once more a Traitor rear?  Dut. 
Sweet York be patiented, hear me gentle Liege.  Bul. 
Rise up good Aunt.  Dut. 
Not yet, I thee beseech.  
For ever will I kneel 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.  Aum. 
Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee.  York. 
Against them both, my true joints bended be.  Dut. 
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 outpray his, then let them have  
That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.  Bul. 
Good Aunt stand up.  Dut. 
Nay, do not say stand up.  
But 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 longed 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 King's mouth's so meet.  York. 
Speak it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy.  Dut. 
Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy?  
Ah my sour husband, my hardhearted Lord,  
That set's the word itself, against the word.  
Speak Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land,  
The chopping French we do not understand.  
Thine eye gins 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.  Bul. 
Good Aunt, stand up.  Dut. 
I do not sue to stand,  
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.  Bul. 
I pardon him, as heaven shall pardon me.  Dut. 
O happy vantage of a kneeling knee:  
Yet am I sick 〈◊〉 fear: Speak it again,  
Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twain,  
But makes one pardon strong.  Bul. 
I pardon him with all my hart.  Dut. 
A God on earth thou art.  Bul. 
But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot,  
With all the rest of that consorted crew,  
Destruction strait shall dog them at the heels:  
Good Uncle help to order several powers  
To Oxford, or where ere 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 adieu:  
Your mother well hath prayed, and prove you true.  Dut. 
Come my old son, I pray heaven make thee new.  Exeunt. Enter Exton and Servants. Ext. 
Didst thou not mark the King what words he spoke?  
Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear:  
Was it not so?  Ser. 
Those were his very words.  Ex. 
Have I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spoke it twice,  
And urged it twice together, did he not?  Ser. 
He did.  Ex. 
And speaking it, he wistly looked on me,  
As who should say, I would thou were't 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.  Exit.  

Scaena Quarta.  Enter Richard. Rich. 
I have been studying, how to 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 hammered 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 intermixed  
With scruples, and do set the Faith itself  
Against the Faith: as thus: Come little ones: & then again,  
It is as hard to come, as for a Camel  
To thread the postern of a 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 misfortune on the back  
Of such as have before endured the like.  
Thus play I in one Prison, many people,  
And none contented. Sometimes am I King;  
Then Treason makes me wish myself a Beggar,  
And so I am. Then crushing penury,  
Persuades me, I was better when a King:  
Then am I kinged again: and by and by,  
Think that I am unkinged by Bullingbrooke,  
And strait am nothing. But what ere I am,  Music 
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?  
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 hear time broke in a disordered 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 dials point,  
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.  
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is,  
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,  
Which is the bell: so Sighs, and Tears, and Groans,  
Show Minutes, Hours, and Times: but my Time  
Runs posting on, in Bullingbrookes' proud joy,  
While I stand fooling here, his jack o' th' 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 wisemen 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 Groom. Groo. 
Hail Royal Prince.  Rich. 
Thanks Noble Peer,  
The cheapest of us, is ten groats too dear.  
What art thou? And how comest thou hither?  
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog  
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?  Groo. 
I was a poor Groom of thy Stable (King)  
When thou were't King: who travelling towards York,  
With much ado, at length have gotten leave  
To look upon my (sometimes Royal) masters face.  
O how it yerned my heart, when I beheld  
In London streets, that Coronation day,  
When Bullingbrooke road on Roan Barbary,  
That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid,  
That horse, that I so carefully have dressed.  Rich. 
Road he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend,  
How went he under him?  Groo. 
So proudly, as if he had disdained the ground.  Rich. 
So proud, that Bullingbrooke 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  
Was't borne to bear? I was not made a horse,  
And yet I bear a burden like an Ass,  
Spurgalled, and tired by la●nti●g Bullingbrooke.  Enter Keeper with a Dish. Keep. 
Fellow, give place here is 〈◊〉 ●nger ●y.  Rich. 
If ●hou love me, 〈◊〉 thou with away.  Groo. 
What thy tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.  Exit. Keep. 
My Lord, will please you to fall too?  Rich. 
Taste of it first, as thou were't wont to do.  Keep. 
My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton,  
Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary.  Rich. 
The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee;  
Patience is stolen, and I am weary of it.  Keep. 
Help, help, help.  Enter Exton and Servants. Ri. 
How now? what means Death in this rude assault?  
Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instrument,  
Go thou and fill another room in hell.  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, stained the Kings own land.  
Mount, mount my soul, thy seat is up on high,  
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to dye.  Exton. 
As full of Valour, as of Royal blood,  
Both have I spilt: Oh 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.  Exit.  

Scoena Quinta.  Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, York, with other Lords & attendants. Bul. 
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?  Nor. 
First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happiness:  
The next news is, I have to London sent  
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:  
The manner of their taking may appear  
At large discoursed in this paper here.  Bul. 
We thank thee gentle Percy for thy pains,  
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.  Enter Fitzwaters. Fitz. 
My Lord, I have from Oxford sent to London,  
The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely,  
Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors,  
That sought at Oxford, thy dire overthrow.  Bul. 
Thy pains Fitzwaters shall not be forgot,  
Right Noble is thy merit, well I wots.  Enter Percy and Carlisle. Per. 
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.  Bul. 
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 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.  Bul. 
Exton, I thank thee not, for thou hast wrought  
A deed of Slaughter, with thy fatal hand,  
Upon my head, and all this famous Land.  Ex. 
From your own mouth my Lord, did I this deed.  Bul. 
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 the shade 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 mourning here,  
In weeping after this untimely Beer.  Exeunt   
FINIS.   

The First Part of Henry the Fourth, with the Life and Death of HENRY Surnamed HOTSPUR.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter the King, Lord john of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with others. King. 
SO shaken as we are, so wan with care,  
Find we a time for frighted Peace to pant,  
And breath shortwinded 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:  
No more shall trenching War channel her fields,  
Nor bruise her Flowrets with the Armed hooves  
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 fare 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 Mother's womb,  
To chase these Pagans in those holy Fields,  
Over whose Acres walked those blessed feet  
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed  
For our advantage on the bitter Cross.  
But this our purpose is a 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 vesternight our Council did decree,  
In forwarding this dear expedience.  West. 
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,  
And a thousand of his people butchered:  
Upon whose dead corpses there was such misuse,  
Such beastly, shameless transformation,  
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be  
(Without much shame) retold or spoken of.  King. 
It seems then, that the tidings of this broil,  
Broke off our business for the Holy land.  West. 
This matched with other like, my gracious Lord,  
Fare more uneven and unwelcome News  
Came from the North, and thus it did report:  
On Holy-roode day, the gallant Hotspurre there,  
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,  
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,  
At Holmeden met, where they did spend  
A fad 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. 
here is a dear and true industrious friend,  
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horse,  
Strained with the variation of each soil,  
Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours:  
And he hath brought us smooth and welcomes news.  
The Earl of Dowglas is discomfited,  
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights  
Balked in their own blood did Sir Walter see  
On Holmedons' Plains. Of Prisoners, Hotspur took  
Mordake Earl of Fife, and eldest son  
To beaten Dowglas, and the Earl of Athol,  
Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.  
And is not this an honourable spoil?  
A gallant prize? Ha' Cousin, is it not? Infaith it is.  West. 
A Conquest for a Prince to boast of.  King. 
Yea, there thou makest me sad, & makest me sin,  
In envy, that my Lord Northumberland  
Should be the Father of so blessed 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-Faiery, had exchanged  
In Cradle-clotheses, our Children where they lay,  
And called mine Percy, his Plantagenet:  
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine:  
But let him from my thoughts. What think you Cousin  
Of this young Percies 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.  West. 
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. 
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, and so inform the Lords:  
But come yourself with speed to us again,  
For more is to be said, and to be done,  
Then out of anger can be uttered.  West. 
I will my Liege.  Exeunt  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir john Falstaff, and Pointz. Fal. 
Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?  Prince. 
Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old Sack, and unbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping upon Benches in the afternoon, 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 shouldest be so superfluous, to demand the time of the day.  Fal. 
Indeed you come near me now Hal, for we that take Purses, go by the Moon and 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.  Prin. 
What, none?  Fal. 
No, not so much as will serve to be Prologue to an Egg and Butter.  Prin. 
Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly.  Fal. 
Marry then, sweet Wag, when thou art King, let not us that are Squires of the Night's body, be called Thiefs 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.  Prin. 
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.  Fal. 
Thou sayest true Lad: and is not my Hostess of the Tavern a most sweet Wench?  Prin. 
As is the honey, my old Lad of the Castle: and is not a Buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?  Fal. 
How now? how now mad Wag? What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a Buff-jerkin?  Prin. 
Why, what a pox have I to do with my Hostess of the Tavern?  Fal. 
Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.  Prin. 
Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?  Fal. 
No, I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.  Prin. 
Yea and elsewhere, so fare as my Coin would stretch, and where it would not, I have used my credit.  Fal. 
Yea, and so used it, that were it 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 a King, hang a Thief.  Prin. 
No, thou shalt.  Fal. 
Shall I? O rare! I'll be a brave judge.  Prin. 
Thou judgest false already. I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the Thiefs, and so become a rare Hangman.  Fal. 
Well Hal, well: and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you.  Prin. 
For obtaining of suits?  Fal. 
Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the Hangman hath no lean Wardrobe. I am as Melancholy as a Gib-cat, or a lugged Beat.  Prin. 
Or an old Lion, or a Lover's Lute.  Fal. 
Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe.  Prin. 
What sayest thou to a Hare, or the Melancholy of Moor Ditch?  Fal. 
Thou hast the most unsavoury smiles, and art indeed the most comparative rascallest sweet young Prince. But Hal, I prithee trouble me no more with vanity, I would 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.  Prin. 
Thou didst well: for no man regards it.  Fal. 
O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harm unto me Hall, God forgive thee for it. Before I knew thee Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (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: and I do not, I am a Villain. I'll be damned for never a King's son in Christendom.  Prin. 
Where shall we take a purse to morrow, jacke?  Fal. 
Where thou wilt Lad, I'll make one: and I do not, call me Villain, and bafflle me.  Prin. 
I see a good amendment of life in thee: From Praying, to Purse-taking.  Fal. 
Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a man to labour in his Vocation.  Pointz. 
Now shall we know if Gad's hill have set a Watch. 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.  Prin. 
Good morrow Ned.  Poines. 
Good morrow sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What says Sir john Sack and Sugar: jacke? How agrees the Devil and thee about thy Soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of Madera, and a cold Capon's leg?  Prin. 
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.  Poin. 
Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil.  Prin. 
Else he had damned for cozening the devil.  Poy. 
But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by four a clock early at Gad's hill, 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 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.  Fal. 
Hear ye Yead ward, if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang you for going.  Poy. 
You will chaps.  Fal. 
Hal, wilt thou make one?  Prin. 
Who, I rob? I a Thief? Not I  Fal. 
There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings.  Prin. 
Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.  Fal. 
Why, that's well said.  Prin. 
Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.  Fal. 
I'll be a Traitor then, when thou art King.  Prin. 
I care not.  Poyn. 
Sir john, I prithee leave the Prince & me alone, I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.  Fal. 
Well, mayst thou have the Spirit of persuasion; and he 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.  Prin. 
Farewell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown Summer.  Poy. 
Now, my good sweet Honey Lord, ride with us to morrow. I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Harvey, Rossill, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already way-layde, yourself and I, will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.  Prin. 
But how shall we part with them in setting forth?  Po●n. 
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.  Prin. 
I, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment to be ourselves.  Poy. 
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 immaske our noted outward garments.  Prin. 
But I doubt they will be too hard for us.  Poin. 
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 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.  Prin. 
Well, I'll go with thee, provide us all things necessary, and meet me to morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell.  Poyn. 
Farewell, my Lord.  Exit Pointz Prin. 
I know you all, and will awhile uphold  
The vnyoaked 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 wondered 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 wished-for come,  
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.  
So when this lose behaviour 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 Mettle on a sullen ground:  
My reformation glittering o'er my fault,  
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,  
Then that which hath no soil to set it off.  
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill,  
Redeeming time, when men think lest I will.   

Scoena Tertia.  Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others. King. 
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 feared, 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.  Wor. 
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.  Nor. 
My Lord.  King. 
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.  
You were about to speak.  North. 
Yea, my good Lord.  
Those Prisoners in your Highness demanded,  
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,  
Were (as he says) not with such strength denied  
As was delivered to your Majesty:  
Who either through envy, or misprision,  
Was guilty of this fault; and not my Son.  Hot. 
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 dressed;  
Fresh as a Bridegroom, and his Chin new reaped,  
Showed 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 Snuffe: And still he smiled and talked:  
And as the Soldiers bore dead bodies by,  
He called them untaught Knaves, Unmannerly,  
To bring a slovenly unhandsome Coarse  
Betwixt the Wind, and his Nobility.  
With many Holiday and Lady term  
He questioned me: Among the rest, demanded  
My Prisoners, in your Majesty's behalf.  
I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold,  
(To be so pestered with a Popingay)  
Out of my Grief, and my Impatience,  
Answered (neglectingly) I know not what,  
He should, or 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, & Drums, and Wounds: God save the mark;  
And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth  
Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:  
And that it was great pity, so it was,  
That villainous Saltpetre should be digged  
Out of the Bowels of the harmless Earth,  
Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroyed  
So Cowardly. And but for these vile Guns▪  
He would himself have been a Soldier.  
This bald, unjointed Chat of his (my Lord)  
Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.)  
And I beseech you, let not this report  
Come currant for an Accusation,  
Betwixt my Love, and your high Majesty▪  Blunt. 
The circumstance considered, good my Lord,  
What ever Harry Percy then had said,  
To such a person, and in such a place,  
At such a time, with all the rest reto;d,  
May reasonably dye, and never rise  
To do him wrong or any way impeach  
What then he said, so he unsay it now.  King. 
Why yet doth deny his Prisoners,  
But with Proviso and Exception,  
That we at our own charge, shall ransom strait  
His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer,  
Who (in my soul) hath wilfully betrayed  
The lives of those, that he did lead to Fight,  
Against the great Magician, damned 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 buy Treason? and indent with Fears,  
When they have lost and forfeited themselves.  
No: on the barren Mountain 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.  Hot. 
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 Severnes siedgie 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 Severnes' flood;  
Who then affrighted with their bloody looks,  
Ran fearfully among the trembling Reeds,  
And hide his crispe-head in the hollow bank,  
Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants.  
Never did base and rotten Policy  
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;  
Nor never could the Noble Mortimer  
Receive so many, and all willingly:  
Then let him not be slandered with Revolt.  King. 
Thou dost belly him Percy, thou dost belly 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 ye. My Lord Northumberland,  
We Licence your departure with your son,  
Send us your Prisoners, or you'll hear of it.  Exit King. Hot. 
And if the devil come and roar for them  
I will not send them. I will after strait  
And tell him so: for I will ease my heart,  
Although it be with hazard of my head.  Nor. 
What? drunk with choler? stay & pause awhile.  
here comes your Uncle.  Enter Worcester. Hot. 
Speak of Mortimer?  
Yes, I will speak of him, and let my soul  
Want mercy, if I do not join with him.  
In his behalf, I'll empty all these Veins,  
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' th' dust,  
But I will lift the downfall Mortimer  
As high i' th' Air, as this Unthankful King,  
As this Ingrate and Cankered Bullingbrooke.  Nor. 
Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad  Wor. 
Who strooke this heat up after I was gone?  Hot. 
He will (forsooth) have all my Prisoners:  
And when I urged the ransom once again  
Of my Wife's Brother, than his cheek looked pale,  
And on my face he turned an eye of death,  
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.  Wor. 
I cannot blame him: was he not proclaimed  
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?  Nor. 
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.  Wor. 
And for whose death, we in the world's wide mouth  
Live scandalised, and foully spoken of.  Hot. 
But soft I pray you; did King Richard then  
Proclaim my brother Mortimer,  
Heir to the Crown?  Nor. 
He did, myself did hear it.  Hot. 
Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King,  
That wished him on the barren Mountains starved.  
But shall it be, that you that set the Crown  
Upon the head of this forgetful man,  
And for his sake, wore 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, if 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 gauge them both in an unjust behalf  
(As Both of you, God pardon it, have done)  
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely Rose,  
And plant this Thorn, this Canker Bullingbrooke?  
And shall it in more shame be further spoken,  
That you are fooled, discarded, and shaken off  
By him, for whom these shames ye underwent?  
No: yet time serves, wherein you may redeem  
Your banished Honours, and restore yourselves  
Into the good Thoughts of the world again.  
Revenge the jeering and disdained contempt  
Of this proud King, who studies day and night  
To answer all the Debt he owes unto you,  
Even with the bloody Payment of your deaths:  
Therefore I say—  Wor. 
Peace Cousin, say no more.  
And now I will unclasp a Secret book,  
And to your quick conceyving Discontents,  
I'll read you Matter, deep and dangerous,  
As full of peril and adventurous Spirit,  
As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud  
On the unsteadfast footing of a Spear.  Hot. 
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: The blood more stirs  
To rouse a Lion, then to start a Hare.  Nor. 
Imagination of some great exploit,  
Drives him beyond the bounds of Patience.  Hot. 
By heaven, me thinks it were an easy leap,  
To pluck bright Honour from the pale-faced Moon,  
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,  
Where Fadome-line could never touch the ground,  
And pluck up drowned Honour by the Locks:  
So he that doth redeem her thence, might wear  
Without Corivall, all her Dignities:  
But out upon this half-faced Fellowship.  Wor. 
He apprehends a World of Figures here,  
But not the form of what he should attend:  
Good Cousin give me audience for awhile,  
And list to me.  Hot. 
I cry you mercy.  Wor. 
Those same Noble Scots  
That are your Prisoners.  Hot. 
I'll keep them all.  
By heaven, 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.  Wor. 
You start away,  
And lend no ear unto my purposes.  
Those Prisoners you shall keep.  Hot. 
Nay, I will; that's flat:  
He said, he would not ransom Mortimer:  
Forbade 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.  Wor. 
Hear you Cousin: a word.  Hot. 
All studies here I solemnly defy,  
Save how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke,  
And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.  
But that I think his Father love's him not,  
And would be glad he met with some mischance,  
I would have poisoned him with a pot of Ale.  Wor. 
Farewell Kinsman: I'll talk to you  
When you are better tempered to attend.  Nor. 
Why what a Waspe-tongued & impatient fool  
Art thou, to break into this Woman's mood,  
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own?  Hot. 
Why look you, I am whipped & scourged with rods,  
Nettled, and stung with Pismires, when I hear  
Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.  
In Richard's time: What d'ye call the place?  
A plague upon't, it is in Gloustershire:  
'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Uncle kept,  
His Uncle York, where I first bowed my knee  
Unto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke:  
When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh.  Nor. 
At Barkley Castle.  Hot. 
You say true:  
Why what a caudie deal of courtesy,  
This fawning Greyhound than did proffer me.  
Look when his infant Fortune came to age,  
And gentle Harry Percy, and kind Cousin:  
O, the Devil take such Couzeners, God forgive me,  
Good Uncle tell your tale, for I have done.  Wor. 
Nay, if you have not, too't again,  
we'll stay your leisure.  Hot. 
I have done insooth.  Wor. 
Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners.  
Deliver them up without their ransom strait,  
And make the Dowglas son your only mean  
For powers in Scotland: which for diverse reasons  
Which I shall send you written, be assured  
Will easily be granted you, my Lord.  
Your Son in Scotland being thus employed,  
Shall secretly into the bosom creep  
Of that same noble Prelate, well beloved,  
The Archbishop.  Hot. 
Of York, is't not?  Wor. 
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.  Hot. 
I smell it:  
Upon my life, it will do wondrous well.  Nor. 
Before the game's afoot, thou still lettest slip.  Hot. 
Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot,  
And then the power of Scotland, and of York  
To join with Mortimer, Ha.  Wor. 
And so they shall.  Hot. 
Infaith it is exceedingly well aimed.  Wor. 
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.  Hot. 
He does, he does; we'll be revenged on him.  Wor. 
Cousin, farewell. No further go in this,  
Then I by Letters shall direct your course  
When time is ripe, which will be suddenly:  
I'll steal to Glendower, and lo, Mortimer,  
Where you, and Dowglas, 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.  Nor. 
Farewell good Brother, we shall thrive, I trust.  Hot. 
Uncle, adieu: O let the hours be short,  
Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our sport.  exit   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter a Carrier with a Lantern in his hand. 1. Car. 
Heigh-ho, an't 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?  Ost. 
Anon, anon.  1. Car. 
I prithee Tom, beat Cuts Saddle, put a few Flocks in the point: the poor jade is wrung in the withers, out of all cease.  Enter another Carrier. 2. Car. 
Pease and Beanes are as dank here as a Dog, and this is the next way to give poor jades the Bottes: This house is turned upside down since Robin the Ostler died.  1. Car. 
Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him.  2. Car. 
I think this is the most villainous house in all London road for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench.  1. Car. 
Like a Tench? There is ne'er a King in Christendom, could be better bit, than I have been since the first Cock.  2. Car. 
Why, you will allow us ne'er a jourden, and then we leak in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach.  1. Car. 
What Ostler, come away, and be hanged: come away.  2. Car. 
I have a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be delivered as fare as Charing-cross.  1. Car. 
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? And 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villain. Come and be hanged, hast no faith in thee?  Enter Gadshill. Gad. 
Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clock?  Car. 
I think it be two a clock.  Gad. 
I prithee lend me thy Lantern to see my Gelding in the stable.  1. Car. 
Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that.  Gad. 
I prithee lend me thine.  2. Car. 
I, when, canst tell? Lend me thy Lantern (quotha) marry I'll see thee hanged first.  Gad. 
Sirrah Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London?  2. Car. 
Time enough to go to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, we'll call up the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they have great charge.  Exeunt Enter Chamberlain. Gad. 
What ho, Chamberlain?  Cham. 
At hand quoth Pickpurse.  Gad. 
That's even as fair, as at hand quoth the Chamberlain: For thou variest no more from picking of Purses, then giving direction, doth from labouring. Thou layest the plot, how.  Cham. 
Good morrow Master Gadshill, it holds currant 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.  Gad. 
Sirrah, if they meet not with S. Nicholas Clarks,  
I'll give thee this neck.  Cham. 
No, I'll none of it: I prithee keep that for the Hangman, for I know thou worship'st S. Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may.  Gad. 
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 knowst he's no Starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans' 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-staffe sixpenny strikers, none of these mad Mustachio-purplehu'd-Maltwormes, but with Nobility and Tranquillity; Bourgomasters, 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 I lie, for they pray continually unto their Saint the Commonwealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for they tied up & down on her, and make her their Boots.  Cham. 
What, the Commonwealth their Boots? Will she hold out water in foul way?  Gad. 
She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We steal as in a Castle, cocksure: we have the receipt of Fernseede, we walk invisible.  Cham. 
Nay, I think rather, you are more beholding to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking invisible.  Gad. 
Give me thy hand.  
Thou shalt have a share in our purpose,  
As I am a true man.  Cham. 
Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false Thief.  Gad. 
Go too: Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell ye muddy Knave.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto. Poines. 
Come shelter, shelter, I have removed Falstafs Horse, and he frets like a gummed Velvet.  Prin. 
Stand close.  Enter Falstaff. Fal. 
Poines, Poines, and be hanged Poines.  Prin. 
Peace ye fat-kidneyed Rascal, what a brawling dost thou keep.  Fal. 
What Poines. Hal?  Prin. 
He is walked up to the top of the hill, I'll go seek him.  Fal. 
I am accursed to rob in that Thief company: that Rascal hath removed my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the squire further a foot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to dye 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 year, & yet I am bewitched with the Rogue's company. If the Rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll behanged; it could not be else: I have drunk Medicines. Poines, Hal, a Plague upon you both. Bardolph, Peto: I'll starve ere I rob a foot further. And 'twere not as good a deed as to drink, to turn Trueman, and to leave these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that ever chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore & ten miles afoot with me: and the stonyhearted Villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, when Thiefs cannot be true one to another. They Whistle. Whew: a plague light upon you all. Give my Horse you  Rogues: 
give me my Horse, and be hanged.  Prin. 
Peace ye fat guts, lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou can hear the tread of Travellers.  Fal. 
Have you any Levers to lift me up again being down? 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?  Prin. 
Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.  Fal. 
I prithee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good King's son.  Prin. 
Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?  Fal. 
Go hang thyself in thine own heire-apparant-Garters: If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this: and I have not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of Sack be my poison: when a jest is so forward, & a foot too, I hate it.  Enter Gadshill. Gad. 
Stand.  Fal. 
So I do against my will.  Poin. 
O 'tis our Setter, I know his voice:  
Bardolfe, what news?  Bar. 
Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's money of the Kings coming down the hill, 'tis going to the King's Exchequer.  Fal. 
You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the King's Tavern.  Gad. 
There's enough to make us all.  Fal. 
To he hanged.  Prin. 
You four shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I, will walk lower; if they scape from your encounter, than they light on us.  Peto. 
But how many be of them?  Gad. 
Some eight or ten.  Fal. 
Will they not rob us?  Prin. 
What, a Coward Sir john Paunch?  Fal. 
Indeed I am not john of Gaunt your Grandfather; but yet no Coward, Hal.  Prin. 
we'll leave that to the proof.  Poin. 
Sirrah jacke, thy horse stands behind the hedge, when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.  Fal. 
Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.  Prin. 
Ned, where are our disguises?  Poin. 
here hard by: Stand close.  Fal. 
Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: every man to his business.  Enter Travellers. Tra. 
Come Neighbor: the boy shall lead our Horses down the hill: we'll walk afoot a while, and ease our Legs.  Thiefs. 
Stay.  Tra. 
jesus bless us.  Fal. 
Strike▪ down with them, cut the villains throats; a whoreson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaves, they hate us youth; down with them, fleece them.  Tra. 
O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever.  Fal. 
Hang ye gorbellied knaves, are you undone? No ye Fat Chuffs, I would your store were here. On Bacons on▪ what ye knaves? Young men must live, you are Grand jurers, are ye? we'll iure ye i'faith.  here they rob them, and bind them. Enter the Prince and Poines. Prin. 
The Thiefs have bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Thiefs, and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a Week, Laughter for a Month, and a good jest for ever.  Poynes. 
Stand close, I hear them coming.  Enter Thiefs again. Fal. 
Come my Masters, let us share, and then to horse before day: and the Prince and Poynes be not two errand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no more valour in that Poynes, than in a wild Duck.  Prin. 
Your money.  Poin. 
Villains.  As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes sat upon them. They all run away, leaving the booty behind them. Prince. 
Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Thiefs are scattered, and possessed 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.  Poin. 
How the Rogue roared.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Hotspur solus, reading a Letter. 
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 love's his own Barn better than he love's 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 Lye. What a lacke-braine is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid; our Friend 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 the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rascal, I could brain him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendour? Is there not besides, the Dowglas? 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 proceed. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimed Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards to night.  Enter his Lady. 
How now Kate, I must leave you within these two hours.  La. 
O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?  
For what offence have I this fortnight been  
A banished 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 sittest alone?  
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks?  
And given my Treasures and my rights of thee,  
To thicke-eyed musing, and cursed melancholy?  
In my faint-slumbers, I by thee have watched,  
And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Wars:  
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding Steed,  
Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talked  
Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,  
Of Palisades, Frontiers, Parapets,  
Of Basilisks, of Canon, Culverin,  
Of Prisoner's ransom, and of Soldiers slain,  
And all the current of a heady fight.  
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at War,  
And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep,  
That beds of sweat hath stood upon thy Brow,  
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Stream;  
And in thy face strange motions have appeared,  
Such as we see when men restrain their breath  
On some great sudden haste. O what portents are these?  
Some heavy business hath my Lord in hand,  
And I must know it: else he love's me not.  Hot. 
What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?  Ser. 
He is my Lord, an hour agone.  Hot. 
Hath Butler brought those horses from the Sheriff?  Ser. 
One horse, my Lord, he brought even now.  Hot. 
What Horse? A Roan, a crop ear, is it not.  Ser. 
It is my Lord.  Hot. 
That Roan shall be my Throne. Well, I will backe him strait. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the Park.  La. 
But hear you, my Lord.  Hot. 
What sayest thou my Lady?  La. 
What is it carries you away?  Hot. 
Why, my horse (my Love) my horse.  La. 
Out you madheaded Ape, a Weasel hath not such a deal of Spleen, as you are tossed with. In sooth 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—  Hot. 
So fare a foot, I shall be weary, Love..  La. 
Come, come, you Parakeet, answer me directly unto this question, that I shall ask. Indeed I'll break thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tell me true.  Hot. 
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 cracked Crowns,  
And pass them currant too. God's me, my horse.  
What sayest thou Kate? what wouldst thou have with me?  La. 
Do ye not love me? Do ye 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 thou speakest in jest, or no.  Hot. 
Come, wilt thou see me ride?  
And when I am a horseback, I will swear  
I love thee infinitely. But hark you Kate,  
I must not have you henceforth, question me,  
Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.  
Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,  
This Evening must I leave thee, gentle Kate.  
I know you wise, but yet no further wise  
Than Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,  
But yet a woman: and for secrecy,  
No Lady closer. For I will believe  
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,  
And so fare wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate.  La. 
How so fare?  Hot. 
Not an inch further. But hark you Kate,  
Wither I go, thither shall you go too:  
To day will I set forth, to morrow you.  
Will this content you Kate?  La. 
It must of force.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Prince and Poines. Prin. 
Ned, prithee come out of that fat room, & lend me thy hand to laugh a little.  Poines. 
Where hast been Hall?  Prin. 
With three or four Loggerheads, amongst 3. or fourscore Hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their confidence, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of Courtesy: telling me flatly I am no proud lack like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and when I am King of England, I shall command all the good Lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dying Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, than they try 'em, 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 were't not with me in this 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 spoke other English in his life, than Eight shillings and six pence, 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 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 never leave calling Francis, that his Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and I'll show thee a Precedent.  Poines. 
Francis.  Prin. 
Thou art perfect.  Poin. 
Francis.  Enter Drawer. Fran. 
Anon, anon sir; look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph.  Prince. 
Come hither Francis.  Fran. 
My Lord.  Prin. 
How long hast thou to serve, Francis?  Fran. 
Forsooth five years, and as much as to—  Poin. 
Francis.  Fran. 
Anon, anon sir.  Prin. 
Five years: Betlady a long Lease for the clinking of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?  Fran. 
O Lord sir, I'll be sworn upon all the Books in England, I could find in my heart.  Poin. 
Francis.  Fran. 
Anon, anon sir.  Prin. 
How old art thou, Francis?  Fran. 
Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shallbe—  Poin. 
Francis.  Fran. 
Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord.  Prin. 
Nay but hark you Francis, for the Sugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't not?  Fran. 
O Lord sir, I would it had been two.  Prin. 
I will give thee for it a thousand pound: Ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.  Poin. 
Francis.  Fran. 
Anon, anon.  Prin. 
Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis: or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou wilt. But Francis.  Fran. 
My Lord.  Prin. 
Wilt thou rob this Leathern jerkin, Crystal button, Not-pated, Agate ring, Puke stocking, Caddice garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch.  Fran. 
O Lord sir, who do you mean?  Prin. 
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.  Fran. 
What sir?  Poin. 
Francis.  Prin. 
Away you Rogue, dost thou hear them call?  
here they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.  Enter Vintner. Vint. 
What, standest thou still, and hearest such a calling? Look to the Guests within. My Lord, old Sir john with half a dozen more, are at the door: shall I let them in?  Prin. 
Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. Poines.  Enter Poines. Poin. 
Anon, anon sir.  Prin. 
Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the Thiefs, are at the door, shall we be merry?  Poin. 
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?  Prin. 
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 a clock at midnight. What's a clock Francis?  Fran. 
Anon, anon sir.  Prin. 
That ever this Fellow should have fewer words then a Parrot, and yet the son of a Woman. His industry is up-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre 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. Rino, says the drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.  Enter Falstaff. Poin. 
Welcome jacke, where hast thou been?  Fal. 
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 sow nether stocks, and mend them too. A plague of all cowards. Give me a Cup of Sack, Rogue. Is there no Virtue extant?  Prin. 
Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of Butter, pitiful hearted Titan that melted at the sweet Tale of the Sun? If thou didst, then behold that compound.  Fal. 
You Rogue, here's Lime in this Sack too: there is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villainous man; yet a Coward is worse than a Cup of Sack with lime. A villainous Coward, go thy ways old jacke, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there lines not three good men unhanged in England, & 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 all manner of songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still.  Prin. 
How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?  Fal. 
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?  Prin. 
Why you whoreson round man? what's the matter?  Fal. 
Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and Poines there?  Prin. 
Ye fatch paunch, and ye call me Coward, I'll stab thee.  Fal. 
I call thee Coward? I'll see thee damned ere I call the Coward: but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are strait 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. 
O Villain, thy Lips are scarce wiped, since thou drunkest last.  Falst. 
All's one for that.  He drinks. 
A plague of all Cowards still, say I.  Prince. 
What's the matter?  Falst. 
What's the matter? here be four of us, have ta'en a thousand pound this Morning.  Prince. 
Where is it, jack? where is it?  Falst. 
Where is it? taken from us, it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.  Prince. 
What, a hundred, man?  Falst. 
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 Handsaw, 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. 
Speak sirs, how was it?  Gad. 
We four set upon some dozen.  Falst. 
Sixteen, at least, my Lord.  Gad. 
And bond them.  Peto. 
No, no, they were not bound.  Falst. 
You Rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a jew else, an Hebrew Iew.  Gad. 
As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us.  Falst. 
And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.  Prince. 
What, fought ye with them all?  Falst. 
All? I know not what ye 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.  Poin. 
Pray Heaven, you have not murdered some of them.  Falst. 
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 word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four Rogues in Buckram let drive at me.  Prince. 
What, four? thou saidst but two, even now.  Falst. 
Four Hal, I told thee four.  Poin. 
I, I, he said four.  Falst. 
These four came all affront, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my Target, thus.  Prince. 
Seven? why there were but four, even now.  Falst. 
In Buckram.  Poin. 
I, four, in Buckram Suits.  Falst. 
Seven, by these Hilts, or I am a Villain else.  Prin. 
Prithee let him alone, we shall have more anon.  Falst. 
Dost thou hear me, Hal?  Prin. 
I, and mark thee too, jack.  Falst. 
Do so, for it is worth the listening too: these nine in Buckram, that I told thee of.  Prin. 
So, two more already.  Falst. 
Their Points being broken.  Poin. 
down fell his Hose.  Falst. 
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.  Prin. 
O monstrous! eleven Buckram men grown out of two?  Falst. 
But as the Devil would have it, three misbegotten Knaves, in Kendal Greene, came at my Back, and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy Hand.  Prin. 
These Lies are like the Father that begets them, gross as a Mountain, open, palpable. Why thou Clay-brayned Guts, thou Knotty-pated Fool, thou Whoreson obscene greasy Tallow Catch.  Falst. 
What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth?  Prin. 
Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal Greene, when it was so dark, thou couldst not see thy Hand? Come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this?  Poin. 
Come, your reason jack, your reason.  Falst. 
What, upon compulsion? No: were I 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 plenty as Blackberries, I would give no man a Reason upon compulsion, I.  Prin. 
I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker, this huge Hill of Flesh.  Falst. 
Away you Starveling, you Elfe-skin, you dried Neat's tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stockfish: O for breath to utter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath you Bow-case, you vile standing tuck.  Prin. 
Well, breath awhile, and then to't again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but thus.  Poin. 
Mark jacke.  Prin. 
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, outfaced you from your prize, and have it: yea, and can show it you in the House. And Falstaff, you carried your Guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight. What trick? what devices? what starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?  Poines. 
Come, let's hear jacke: What trick hast thou now?  Fal. 
I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why hear ye 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 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 Lads, I am glad you have the Mony. Hostess, clap to the doors: watch to night, pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boys, Hearts of Gold, all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What, shall we be merry? shall we have a Play extempore.  Prin. 
Content, and the argument shall be, thy running away.  Fal. 
A, no more of that Hall, and thou lovest me.  Enter Hostess. Host. 
My Lord, the Prince?  Prin. 
How now my Lady the Hostess, what sayest thou to me?  Hostess. 
Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the Court at door would speak with you: he says, he comes from your Father.  Prin. 
Give him as much as will make him a Royal man▪ and send him back again to my Mother.  Falst. 
What manner of man is he?  Hostess. 
An old man.  Falst. 
What doth Gravity out of his Bed at Midnight?  
Shall I give him his answer?  Prin. 
Prithee do jacke.  Falst. 
I'faith, and I'll send him packing.  Exit. Prince. 
Now Sirs: you fought fair; so did you Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lions too, you ran away upon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie.  Bard. 
I'faith, I ran when I saw others run.  Prin. 
Tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaffes 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.  Bard. 
Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse, 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 years before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.  Prin. 
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 ranst away; what instinct hadst thou for it?  Bard. 
My Lord, do you see these Meteors? do you behold these Exhalations?  Prin. 
I do.  Bard. 
What think you they portend?  Prin. 
Hot Livers, and cold Purses.  Bard. 
Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.  Prin. 
No, if rightly taken, Halter.  Enter Falstaff. 
here comes lean jacke, here comes bare-bone. How now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't ago, jacke, since thou saw'st thine own Knee?  Falst. 
My own Knee? When I was about thy years (Hal) I was not an eagle's Talon in the Waste, 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 villainous News abroad: here was Sir john Braby from your Father; you must go to the Court in the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon the Bastinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Devil his true Liegeman upon the Cross of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you him?  Poin. 
O, Glendower.  Falst. 
Owen, Owen; the same, and his Son in Law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runs a Horseback up a Hill perpendicular.  Prin. 
He that rides at high speed, and with a Pistol kills a Sparrow flying.  Falst. 
You have hit it.  Prin. 
So did he never the Sparrow.  Falst. 
Well, that Rascal hath good mettle in him, he will not run.  Prin. 
Why, what a Rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running?  Falst. 
A Horseback (ye Cuckoo) but a foot he will not budge a foot.  Prin. 
Yes jacke, upon instinct.  Falst. 
I grant ye, upon instinct: Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more. Worcester is stolen away by Night: thy Father's Beard is turned white with the News; you may buy Land now as cheap as stinking Mackerel.  Prin. 
Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sun, and this civil buffetting hold, we shall buy Maidenheads as they buy Hobnails, by the Hundreds.  Falst. 
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 afeared? thou being Heir apparent, could the World pick thee out three such Enemies again, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Devil Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it?  Prin. 
Not a whit: I lack some of thy instinct.  Falst. 
Well, thou wilt be horrible chid to morrow, when thou comest to thy Father: if thou do love me, practise an answer.  Prin. 
Do thou stand for my Father, and examine me upon the particulars of my Life.  Falst. 
Shall I? content: This Chair shall be my State, this Dagger my Sceptre, and this Cushion my Crown.  Prin. 
Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden Sceptre for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich Crown, for a pitiful bald Crown.  Falst. 
Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of thee now shalt thou be moved. Give me a Cup of Sack to make mine 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 vain.  Prin. 
Well, here is my Leg.  Falst. 
And here is my speech: stand aside Nobility.  Fostesse. 
This is excellent sport, i'faith.  Falst. 
Weep not, sweet Queen, for trickling tears are vain.  Hostess. 
O the Father, how he holds his countenance?  Falst. 
For God's sake Lords, convey my trustful Queen,  
For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.  Hostess. 
O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry Players, as ever I see.  Falst. 
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, the faster it grows; yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. Thou art my Son: I have partly thy Mother's Word, partly my Opinion; but chiefly, a villainous trick of thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be Son to me, here lieth the point: why, being Son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed Son of Heaven prove a Micher, and eat Black-berryes? a question not to be asked. Shall the Son 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.  Prin. 
What manner of man, and it like your Majesty?  Falst. 
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 (byrlady) inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his Name is Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given, he deceives 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?  Prin. 
Dost thou speak like a King? do thou stand for me, and I'll play my Father.  Falst. 
Depose me: if thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulter's Hare.  Prin. 
Well, here I am set.  Falst. 
And here I stand: judge my Masters.  Prin. 
Now Harry, whence come you?  Falst. 
My Noble Lord, from Eastcheap.  Prin. 
The complaints I hear of thee, are grievous.  Falst. 
I'faith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, I'll tickle ye for a young Prince.  Prin. 
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 a fat old Man; a Tun of Man is thy Companion: Why dost thou converse with that Trunk of Humours, that Boulting-Hutch of Beastliness, that swollen Parcel of Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sack, that stuffed Cloak-bag of Guts, that roasted Manning Tree 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 Villainy? wherein Villainous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?  Falst. 
I would your Grace would take me with you: whom means your Grace?  Prince. 
That villainous abominable mis-leader of Youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.  Falst. 
My Lord, the man I know.  Prince. 
I know thou dost.  Falst. 
But to say, I know more harm in him then 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, Heaven help the Wicked: if to be old and merry, be a sin, than many an old Host that I know, is damned: if to be fat, be to be hated, than Pharaohs lean Kine are to be loved. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweet jacke Falstaff, kind jacke Falstaff, true jacke Falstaff, valiant jacke 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 jacke, and banish all the World.  Prince. 
I do, I will.  Enter Bardolph running. Bard. 
O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sheriff, with a most most monstrous Watch, is at the door.  Falst. 
Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.  Enter the Hostess. Hostess. 
O, my Lord, my Lord.  Falst. 
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?  Falst. 
Dost thou hear Hal, never call a true piece of Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without seeming so.  Prince. 
And thou a natural Coward, without instinct.  Falst. 
I deny your Mayor: 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. 
Go hide thee behind the Arras, the rest walk up above. Now my Masters, for a true Face and good Conscience.  Falst. 
Both which I have had: but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me.  Exit. Prince. 
Call in the Sheriff.  Enter Sheriff and the Carrier. Prince. 
Now Master Sheriff, what is your will with me?  She. 
First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certain men unto this house.  Prince. 
What men?  She. 
One of them is well known, my gracious Lord, a gross fat man.  Car. 
As fat as Butter.  Prince. 
The man, I do assure you, is not here,  
For I myself at this time have employed 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.  She. 
I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen  
Have in this Robbery lost three hundred Marks.  Prince. 
It may be so: if he have robbed these men,  
He shall be answerable: and so farewell.  She. 
Good Night, my Noble Lord.  Prince. 
I think it is good Morrow, is it not?  She. 
Indeed, my Lord, I think it be two a Clock.  Exit. Prince. 
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. 
Hark, how hard he fetches breath: search his Pockets.  He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certain Papers. Prince. 
What hast thou found?  Peto. 
Nothing but Papers, my Lord.  Prince. 
Let's see, what be they? read them.  Peto. 
Item, a Capon. two. s.ii.d.  
Item, Sauce. iiii. d.  
Item, Sack, two Gallons. v. s.viii.d.  
Item, Anchovies and Sack after Supper. ii.s.vi.d.  
Item, Bread. ob.  Prince. 
O monstrous, but one half pennyworth 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 Match of Twelvescore. The Money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good morrow Peto.  Peto. 
Good morrow, good my Lord.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower. Mort. 
These promises are fair, the parties sure,  
And our induction full of prosperous hope.  Hotsp. 
Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,  
Will you sit down?  
And Uncle Worcester; a plague upon it,  
I have forgot the Map.  Glend. 
No, here it is:  
Sat Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:  
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speak of you,  
His Cheeks look pale, and with a rising sigh,  
He wisheth you in Heaven.  Hotsp. 
And you in Hell, as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.  Glend. 
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 foundation of the Earth  
Shaked like a Coward.  Hotsp. 
Why so it would have done at the same season, if your Mother's Cat had but kittened, though yourself had never been borne.  Glend. 
I say the Earth did shake when I was borne.  Hotsp. 
And I say the Earth was not of my mind,  
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shaken.  Glend. 
The Heavens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble.  Hotsp. 
Oh, than the Earth shaken  
To see the Heavens on fire,  
And not in fear of your Nativity.  
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth  
In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth  
Is with a kind of Colic pinched and vexed,  
By the imprisoning of unruly Wind  
Within her Womb: which for enlargement striving,  
Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles down  
Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,  
Our Grandam Earth, having this distemperature,  
In passion shaken.  Glend. 
Cousin: of many men  
I do not bear these Cross: 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 marked me extraordinary,  
And all the courses of my Life do show,  
I am not in the Roll of common men.  
Where is the Living, clipped in with the Sea,  
That chides the Banks of England, Scotland, and 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.  Hotsp. 
I think there's no man speaks better Welsh:  
I'll to Dinner.  Mort. 
Peace Cousin Percy, you will make him mad.  Glend. 
I can call Spirits from the vasty Deep.  Hotsp. 
Why so can I, or so can any man:  
But will they come, when you do call for them?  Glend. 
Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the Devil.  Hotsp. 
And I can teach thee, Cousin, 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.  
Oh, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil.  Mort. 
Come, come, no more of this unprofitable Chat.  Glend. 
Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head  
Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,  
And sandy-bottomed Severne, have I hent him  
Bootless home, and Weatherbeaten back.  Hotsp. 
Home without Boötes,  
And in foul Weather too,  
How escapes he Agues in the Devil's name?  Glend. 
Come, here's the Map:  
Shall we divide our Right,  
According to our threefold order-ta'ne?  Mort. 
The Archdeacon hath divided it  
Into three Limits, very equally:  
England, from Trent, and Severne hitherto,  
By South and East, is to my part assigned:  
All Westward, Wales, beyond the Severne shore,  
And all the fertile Land within that bound,  
To Owen Glendower: And dear Cousin, 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,  
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:  
Within that space, you may have drawn together  
Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen.  Glend. 
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.  Hotsp. 
Me thinks my Moiety, North from Burton here,  
In quantity equal 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 Currant in this place damned 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.  Glend. 
Not wind? it shall, it must, you see it doth.  Mort. 
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.  Worc. 
Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,  
And on this North side win this Cape of Land,  
And then he runs strait and even.  Hotsp. 
I'll have it so, a little Charge will do it.  Glend. 
I'll not have it altered.  Hotsp. 
Will not you?  Glend. 
No, nor you shall not.  Hotsp. 
Who shall say me nay?  Glend. 
Why, that will I.  Hotsp. 
Let me not understand you then, speak it in Welsh.  Glend. 
I can speak English, Lord, as well as you:  
For I was trained 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.  Hotsp. 
Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,  
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,  
Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:  
I had rather hear a Brazen Candlestick turned,  
Or a dry Wheel grate on the Axletree,  
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,  
Nothing so much, as mincing Poetry;  
'Tis like the forced gate of a shuffling Nag.  Glend. 
Come, you shall have Trent turned.  Hotsp. 
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?  Glend. 
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. Mort. 
Fie, Cousin Percy, how you cross my Father.  Hotsp. 
I cannot choose: sometime he anger's me,  
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,  
Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;  
And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,  
A clip-winged Griffin, and a molten Raven,  
A couching Lion, and a ramping Cat,  
And such a deal of skimble-skamble Stuffe,  
As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,  
He held me last Night, at least, nine hours,  
In reckoning up the several Devil's Names,  
That were his Lackeys:  
I cried hum, and well, go too,  
But marked 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 fare,  
Then feed on Cates, and have him talk to me,  
In any Summer-House in Christendom.  Mort. 
In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,  
Exceeding well read, and profited,  
In strange Concealments:  
Valiant as a Lion, and 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 do cross his humour: i'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.  Worc. 
In faith, my Lord, you are too wilful blame,  
And since your coming hither, have done enough,  
To put him quite besides 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.  Hotsp. 
Well, I am schooled:  
Good-manners be your speed;  
here come your Wives, and let us take our leave.  Enter Glendower, with the Ladies. Mort. 
This is the deadly spite, that anger's me,  
My Wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.  Glend. 
My Daughter weeps, she'll not part with you,  
she'll be a Soldier too, she'll to the Wars.  Mort. 
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. Glend. 
She is desperate here:  
A peevish self-willed Harlotry,  
One that no persuasion can do good upon.  The Lady speaks in Welsh. Mort. 
I understand thy Looks: that pretty Welsh  
Which thou powr'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 again in Welsh. Mort. 
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 penned,  
Sung by a fair Queen in a Summer's Bower,  
With ravishing Division to her Lute.  Glend. 
Nay, if thou melt, then will she run mad.  The Lady speaks again in Welsh. Mort. 
O, I am Ignorance itself in this.  Glend. 
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 betwixt Wake and Sleep,  
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,  
The hour before the Heavenly Harneised Teem  
Gins his Golden Progress in the East.  Mort. 
With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing:  
By that time will our Book, I think, be drawn.  Glend. 
Do so:  
And those Musicians that shall play to you,  
Hang in the Air a thousand Leagues from thence;  
And strait they shall be here: sit, and attend.  Hotsp. 
Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying down:  
Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my Head in thy Lap.  Lady. 
Go, ye giddy-Goose.  The Music plays. Hotsp. 
Now I perceive the Devil understands Welsh,  
And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous:  
Byrlady he's a good Musician.  Lady. 
Then would you be nothing but Musical,  
For you are altogether governed by humours:  
Lie still ye Thief, and hear the Lady sing in Welsh.  Hotsp. 
I had rather hear (Lady) my Brach howl in Irish.  Lady. 
Wouldst have thy Head broken?  Hotsp. 
No.  Lady. 
Then be still.  Hotsp. 
Neither, 'tis a Woman's fault.  Lady. 
Now God help thee.  Hotsp. 
To the Welsh Ladies Bed.  Lady. 
What's that?  Hotsp. 
Peace, she sings.  here the Lady sings a Welsh Song. Hotsp. 
Come, I'll have your Song too.  Lady. 
Not mine, in good sooth.  Hotsp. 
Not yours, in good sooth?  
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 Sarsenet surety for thy Oaths,  
As if thou never walkest 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 Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.  
Come, sing.  Lady. 
I will not sing.  Hotsp. 
'Tis the next way to turn Tailor, or be redbreast teacher: and the Indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours: and so come in, when ye will.  Exit. Glend. 
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.  Mort. 
With all my heart.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others. King. 
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 Heaven 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 marked  
For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heaven  
To punish my Mistread. Tell me else.  
Can such inordinate and low desires,  
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts,  
Such barren pleasures, rude society,  
As thou art matched withal, and grafted too,  
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,  
And hold their level with thy Princely heart?  Prince. 
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 Pickthanks, and base News-mongers;  
I may for some things true, wherein my youth  
Hath faulty wandered, and irregular,  
Find pardon on my true submission.  King. 
Heaven 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 supply'de;  
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 ruined, and the Soul of every man  
Prophetically do forethink thy fall.  
Had I so lavish of my presence been,  
So common hackneyed in the eyes of men,  
So stolen and cheap to vulgar Company;  
Opinion, that did help me to the Crown,  
Had still kept loyal to possession,  
And left me in reputelesse banishment,  
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.  
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,  
But like a Comet, I was wondered at,  
That men would tell their Children, This is he:  
Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.  
And then I stole all Courtesy from Heaven,  
And dressed 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 I did keep my Person fresh and new,  
My Presence like a Robe Pontifical,  
ne'er seen, but wondered 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 Carping 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,  
Enfeoffed himself to Popularity:  
That being daily swallowed 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 bend on Sunlike Majesty,  
When it shines seldom in admiring Eyes:  
But rather drowzed, and hung their eyelids down,  
Slept in his Face, and rendered such aspect  
As Cloudy men use to do to their adversaries,  
Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full.  
And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:  
For thou hast 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. 
I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,  
Be more myself.  King. 
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  
Then 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 neverdying Honour hath he got,  
Against renowned Dowglas? 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 the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,  
This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,  
Discomfited great Dowglas, 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 Archbishops Grace of York, Dowglas, 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 nearest and dearest Enemy?  
Thou, that art like enough, through vassal Fear,  
Base Inclination, and the start of Spleen,  
To fight against me under Percies pay,  
To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns,  
To show how much thou art degenerate.  Prince. 
Do not think so, you shall not find it so:  
And Heaven forgive them, that so much have swayed  
Your Majesty's good thoughts away from me:  
I will redeem all this on Percies 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 washed away, shall scour my shame with it.  
And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,  
That this same Child of Honour and Renown.  
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight,  
And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet:  
For every Honour fitting 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 sleightest worship of his time,  
Or I will tear the Reckoning from his Heart.  
This, in the Name of Heaven, I promise here:  
The which, if I perform, and do survive,  
I do beseech your Majesty, may salve  
The long-grown Wounds of my intemperature:  
If not, the end of Life cancels all Bands,  
And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,  
Ere break the smallest parcel of this Vow.  King. 
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.  Blunt. 
So hath the Business that I come to speak of.  
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,  
That Dowglas 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 offered foul play in a State.  King. 
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 thou shalt set forward:  
On Thursday, we ourselves will march.  
Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march  
Through Glocestershire: 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. Falst. 
Bardolph, am I not fall'n away vilely, since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why my skin hangs about me like an old Ladies lose 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. And I have not forgotten what the inside of a Church is made of I am a Pepper Corn, a Brewer's Horse, the inside of a Church. Company, villainous Company hath been the spoil of me.  Bard. 
Sir john, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.  Falst. 
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 not above once in a quarter of an hour, paid Money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of compass.  Bard. 
Why, you are so fat, Sir john, that you must nedes be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass Sir john.  Falst. 
Do thou amend thy Face, and I'll amend thy 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.  Bard. 
Why, Sir john, my Face does you no harm.  Falst. 
No, I'll be sworn: I make as good use of it, as many a man doth of a Deaths-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: But thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sun of utter Darkness. When thou ran'st up Gadshill in the Night, to catch my Horse▪ if I did not think that thou hadst been an Ignis fatnus, or a Ball of Wildfire, there's no Purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetual Triumph, an everlasting Bone-fire-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, as the dearest Chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years, Heaven reward me for it.  Bard. 
I would my Face were in your Belly.  Falst. 
So should I be sure to be heart-burned.  Enter Hostess. 
How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, have you enquired yet who picked my Pocket?  Hostess. 
Why Sir john, what do you think, Sir john? do you think I keep Thiefs in my House? I have searched, I have enquired, so has my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Servant by Servant: the tied of a hair was never lost in my house before.  Falst. 
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? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.  Falst. 
Go to, I know you well enough.  Hostess. 
No, Sir john, you do not know me, Sir john: I know you, Sir john: you own 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.  Falst. 
Doulas▪ filthy Doulas: I have given them away to Baker's Wives, and they have made Boulters of them.  Hostess. 
Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You own Money here besides, Sir john, for your Diet, and by-drinking, and Money lent you, four and twenty pounds.  Falst. 
He had his part of it, let him pay.  Hostess. 
He? alas he is poor, he hath nothing.  Falst. 
How? Poor? Look upon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them coin his Nose, let them coin his Cheeks, I'll not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Yonker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inn, but I shall have my Pocket picked? I have lost a Seale-Ring of my Grandfathers, worth forty Mark.  Hostess. 
I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft that that Ring was Copper.  Falst. 
How? the Prince is a jacke, a Sneake-Cuppe: and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a Dog, if he would say so.  Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaff meets him, playing on his Truncheon like a Fife. Falst. 
How now Lad? is the Wind in that Door?  
Must we all march?  Bard. 
Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.  Hostess. 
My Lord, I pray you hear me.  Prince. 
What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How does thy Husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.  Hostess. 
Good, my Lord, hear me.  Falst. 
Prithee let her alone, and lift to me.  Prince. 
What sayest thou, jacke?  Falst. 
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. 
What didst thou lose, jacke?  Falst. 
Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four Bonds of forty pound apiece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grandfathers.  Prince. 
A Trifle, some eight-penny matter.  Host. 
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. 
What he did not?  Host. 
There's neither Faith, Truth, nor Womanhood in me else.  Falst. 
There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune; nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawn Fox: and for Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go.  Host. 
Say, what thing? what thing?  Falst. 
What thing? why a thing to thank heaven on.  Host. 
I am no thing to thank heaven 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.  Falst. 
Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.  Host. 
Say, what beast, thou knave thou?  Fal. 
What beast? Why an Otter.  Prin. 
An Otter, sir john? Why an Otter?  Fal. 
Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.  Host. 
Thou art unjust man in saying so; thou, or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou.  Prince. 
Thou sayest true Hostess, and he slanders thee most grossly.  Host. 
So he doth you, my Lord, and said this other day, You ought him a thousand pound.  Prince. 
Sirrah, do I own you a thousand pound?  Falst. 
A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy love is worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy love.  Host. 
Nay my Lord, he called you jacke, and said he would cudgel you.  Fal. 
Did I, Bardolph?  Bar. 
Indeed Sir john, you said so.  Fal. 
Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.  Prince. 
I say 'tis Copper. Darest thou be as good as thy word now?  Fal. 
Why Hal? thou knowst, as thou art but a man, I dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the Lion's Whelp.  Prince. 
And why not as the Lion?  Fal. 
The King himself is to be feared as the Lion: Dost thou think I'll fear thee, as I fear thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle break.  Prin. 
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 any thing in thy Pocket but Tavern Reckon, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses, and one poor pennyworth 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 it, you will not Pocket up wrong. Art thou not ashamed?  Fal. 
Dost thou hear Hal? Thou knowst in the state of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poor jacke Falstaff do, in the days of Villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty. You confess then you picked my Pocket?  Prin. 
It appears so by the Story.  Fal. 
Hostess, I forgive thee:  
Go make ready Breakfast, love thy Husband,  
Look to thy Servants, and cherish thy Guests:  
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:  
Thou seest, I am pacified still.  
Nay, I prithee be gone.  Exit Hostess. 
Now Hal, to the news at Court for the Robbery, Lad?  
How is that answered?  Prin. 
O my sweet Beef:  
I must still be good Angel to thee.  
The Money is paid back again.  Fal. 
O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double Labour.  Prin. 
I am good Friends with my Father, and may do anything.  Fal. 
Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou dost, and do it with unwashed hands too.  Bard. 
Do my Lord.  Prin. 
I have procured thee jacke, a Charge of Foot.  Fal. 
I would it had been of Horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O, for a fine thief of two and twenty, or thereabout: I am heinously unprovided. Well God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but the Virtuous. I laud them, I praise them.  Prin. 
Bardolph.  Bar. 
My Lord.  Prin. 
Go bear this Letter to Lord john of Lancaster  
To my Brother john. This to my Lord of Westmoreland,  
Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,  
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.  
jacke, meet me to morrow in the Temple Hall  
At two a 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 hie,  
And either they, or we must lower lie.  Fal. 
Rare words! brave world.  
Hostess, my breakfast, come:  
Oh, I could wish this Tavern were my drum.  Exeunt omnes.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas. Hot. 
Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth  
In this fine Age, were not thought flattery,  
Such attribution should the Dowglas have,  
As not a Soldier of this seasons stamp,  
Should go so general currant through the world.  
By heaven I cannot flatter: I defy  
The Tongues of Soothers. But a Braver place  
In my heart's love, hath no man then yourself.  
Nay, task me to my word: approve me Lord.  Dow. 
Thou art the King of Honour:  
No man so potent breaths upon the ground,  
But I will Beard him.  Enter a Messenger. Hot. 
Do so, and 'tis well. What Letters hast there?  
I can but thank you.  Mess. 
These Letters come from your Father.  Hot. 
Letters from him?  
Why comes he not himself?  Mes. 
He cannot come, my Lord,  
He is grievous sick.  Hot. 
How? has he the leisure to be sick now,  
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?  
Under whose Government come they along?  Mess. 
His Letters bears his mind, not I his mind.  Wor. 
I prithee tell me, doth he keep his Bed?  Mess. 
He did, my Lord, four days ere I set forth:  
And at the time of my departure thence,  
He was much feared by his Physician.  Wor. 
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.  Hotsp. 
Sick now? droop now? this sickness doth infect  
The very Life-blood of our Enterprise,  
'Tis catching hither, even to our Campe.  
He writes me here, that inward sickness,  
And that his friends by deputation  
Can 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 possessed  
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?  Wor. 
Your Father's sickness is a maim to us.  Hotsp. 
A perilous Gash, a very Limb lopped 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.  Dowg. 
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 life's in this.  Hotsp. 
A Rendezvous, a Home to fly unto,  
If that the Devil and Mischance look big  
Upon the Maidenhead of our Affairs.  Wor. 
But yet I would your Father had been here:  
The Quality and Heir 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 proceed, 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 draws a Curtain,  
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear,  
Before not dreamt of.  Hotsp. 
You strain too fare.  
I rather of his absence make this use:  
It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion,  
A larger Dare to your great Enterprise,  
Then if the Earl were here: for men must think,  
If we without his help, can make a Head  
To push against the Kingdom; with his help,  
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down:  
Yet all goes well, yet all out joints are whole.  Dowg. 
As heart can think:  
There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland,  
At this Dream of Fear.  Enter Sir Richard Vernon. Hotsp. 
My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soul.  Vern. 
Pray God my news be worth a welcome, Lord.  
The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,  
Is marching hitherwards, with Prince john.  Hotsp. 
No harm: what more?  Vern. 
And further, I have learned,  
The King himself in person hath set forth,  
Or hitherwards intended speedily,  
With strong and mighty preparation.  Hotsp. 
He shall be welcome too.  
Where is his Son,  
The nimble-footed Madcap, Prince of Wales,  
And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside,  
And bid it pass?  Vern. 
All furnished, all in Arms,  
All plumed like Ostriches, 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 Cushes on his thighs, gallantly armed,  
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury.  
And vaulted with such ease into his Seat,  
As if an Angel dropped down from the Clouds,  
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,  
And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship.  Hotsp. 
No more, no more,  
Worse men 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 mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit  
up to the ears i● blood. I am on fire,  
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,  
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,  
Who is to bear me like a Thunderbolt,  
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.  
Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse  
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a Coarse?  
Oh, that Glendower were come.  Ver. 
There is more news:  
I learned in Worcester, as I road along,  
He cannot draw his Power this fourteen days.  Dowg. 
That's the worst Tidings that I hear of yet.  Wor. 
I by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.  Hotsp. 
What may the Kings whole Battle reach unto?  Ver. 
To thirty thousand.  Hot. 
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.  Dow. 
Talk not of dying. I am out of fear  
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year.  Exeunt Omnes.  

Scaena Secunda.  Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. Falst. 
Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry, fill me a Bottle of Sack, our Soldiers shall march through: we'll to Sutton-cop-hill to Night.  Bard. 
Will you give me Money, Captain?  Falst. 
Lay out, lay out.  Bard. 
This Bottle makes an Angel.  Falst. 
And if it do, take it for thy labour: and if it make twenty, take them all, He answer the Coinage. Bid my Lieutenant Peto meet me at the Town's end.  Bard. 
I will Captain: farewell.  Exit. Falst. 
If I be not ashamed of my Soldiers, I am a sowc't-Gurnet: I have misused the Kings Press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty Soldiers, three hundred and odd Pounds. I press me none but good Householders, Yeoman's Sons: inquire me out contracted Bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the Banes: such a Commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the Devil, as a Drum; such as fear the report of a Caliver, worse than a struck-Foole, or a hurt wilde-Ducke, I pressed me none but such Tostes 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 Gluttons Dogs licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were never Soldiers, but dis-carded unjust Servingmen, younger Sons to younger Brothers, revolted Tapsters and Ostlers, Trade-fallen, the Cankers of a calm World, and 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 tottered 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 skar-Crowes: 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 not a Shirt and a half in all my Company: and the half Shirt is two Napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a Herald's Coat, without sleeves: and the Shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my Host of S. Alban's, or the Red-Nose Innkeeper of Davintry. But that's all one, they'll find Linen enough on every Hedge.  Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmoreland. Prince. 
How now blown jack? how now Quilt?  Falst. 
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.  West. 
I'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 to Night.  Falst. 
Tut, never fear me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to steal Cream.  Prince. 
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?  Falst. 
Mine, Hal, mine.  Prince. 
I did never see such pitiful Rascals.  Falst. 
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.  Westm. 
I, but Sir john, me thinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.  Falst. 
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. 
No, I'll be sworn, unless you call three fingers on the Ribs bare. But sirrah, make haste, Percy is already in the field.  Falst. 
What, is the King encamped?  Westm. 
He is, Sir john, I fear we shall stay too long.  Falst. 
Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keen Guest.  Exeunt.  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon. Hotsp. 
we'll fight with him to Night.  Worc. 
It may not be.  Dowg. 
You give him then advantage.  Vern. 
Not a whit.  Hotsp. 
Why say you so? looks he not for supply?  Vern. 
So do we.  Hotsp. 
His is certain, ours is doubtful.  Worc. 
Good Cousin be advised, stir not to night.  Vern. 
Do not, my Lord.  Dowg. 
You do not counsel well:  
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.  Vern. 
Do me no slander, Dowglas: 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 life's.  
Let it be seen to morrow in the Battle,  
Which of us fears.  Dowg. 
Yea, or to night.  Vern. 
Content.  Hotsp. 
To night, say I.  Vern. 
Come, come, it may 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 Vernons are not yet come up,  
Your Uncle Worcester's Horse came but to day,  
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.  Hotsp. 
So are the Horses of the Enemy  
In general journey bated, and brought low:  
The better part of ours are full of rest.  Worc. 
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. Blunt. 
I come with gracious offers from the King,  
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.  Hotsp. 
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.  Blunt. 
And Heaven 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.  Hotsp. 
The King is kind:  
And well we know, the King  
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.  
My Father, 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 Innocence, and terms of Zeal;  
My Father, in kind heart and pity moved,  
Swore him assistance, and performed 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, proffered him their Oaths,  
Gave him their Heirs, as Pages followed 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 straight Decrees,  
That lay 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.  Blunt. 
Tut, I came not to hear this.  Hotsp. 
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, tasked the whole State.  
To make that worse, suffered his Kinsman March,  
Who is, if every Owner were 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 my Uncle from the Councell-Boord,  
In rage dismissed my Father from the Court,  
Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong,  
And in conclusion, driven us to seek out  
This Head of safety; and withal, to pry  
Into his Title: the which we find  
Too indirect, for long continuance.  Blunt. 
Shall I return this answer to the King?  Hotsp. 
Not so, Sir Walter.  
we'll withdraw a while:  
Go to the King, and let there be impawned  
Some surety for a safe return again,  
And in the Morning early shall my Uncle  
Bring him our purpose: and so farewell.  Blunt. 
I would you would accept of Grace and Love..  Hotsp. 
an't may be, so we shall.  Blunt. 
Pray Heaven you do.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter the Archbishop of York, and Sir Michael. Arch. 
Hie, good Sir Michael, bear this sealed Brief  
With winged haste to the Lord Martial,  
This to my Cousin Scroop, and all the rest  
To whom they are directed.  
If you knew how much they do Import.  
You would make haste.  Sir Mich. 
My good Lord, I guess their tenor.  Arch. 
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-raysed 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 Glendowers absence thence,  
Who with them was rated firmly too,  
And comes not in, overruled by Prophecies,  
I fear the Power of Percy is too weak,  
To wage an instant trial with the King.  Sir Mich. 
Why, my good Lord, you need not fear,  
There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer.  Arch. 
No, Mortimer is not there.  Sir Mich. 
But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,  
And there is my Lord of Worcester,  
And a Head of gallant Warriors,  
Noble Gentlemen.  Arch. 
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 many more Corrivals, and dear men  
Of estimation, and command in Arms.  Sir M. 
Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well opposed  Arch. 
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 writ again  
To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michael.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord john of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaff. King. 
How bloodily the Sun gins to peer  
Above you busky hill: the day looks pale  
At his distemperature.  Prin. 
The Southern wind  
Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,  
And by his hollow whistling in the Leaves,  
Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day.  King. 
Then with the losers let it sympathise,  
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.  The Trumpet sounds. Enter Worcester. King. 
How now my Lord of Worster? '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 churlish 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 exhalled Meteor,  
A prodigy of Fear, and a Portent  
Of broached Mischief, to the unborn Times?  Wor. 
Hear me, my Liege:  
For mine own part, I could be well content  
To entertain the Lagge-end of my life  
With quiet hours: For I do protest,  
I have not sought the day of this dislike.  King. 
You have not sought it: how comes it then?  Fal. 
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.  Prin. 
Peace, Chewet, peace.  Wor. 
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 danger of the time. You swore to us,  
And you did swear that Oath at Doncaster,  
That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,  
Nor claim no further, than your newfallen right,  
The seat of Gaunt, Dukedom of Lancaster,  
To this, we swore our aid: But in short space,  
It reigned 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 wanton time,  
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,  
And the contrarious Winds that held the King  
So long in the unlucky Irish Wars,  
That all in England did repute him dead:  
And from this swarm of fair advantages,  
You took occasion to be quickly wooed,  
To gripe the general sway into your hand,  
Forgot your Oath to us at Doncaster,  
And being fed by us, you used us so,  
As that ungentle gull 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 your 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 younger enterprise.  Kin. 
These things indeed you have articulated,  
Proclaimed 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 hurly burly 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.  Prin. 
In both our Armies, there is many a soul  
Shall pay full dear 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. 
And Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,  
Albeit, considerations infinite  
Do make against it: No good Worster, no,  
We love our people well; even those we love  
That are ●sled upon your Cousin's part:  
And will they take the offer of our Grace:  
Both he, and they, and you; yea, 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.  Exit Worcester. Prin. 
It will not be accepted, on my life,  
The Dowglas and the Hotspur both together,  
Are confident against the world in Arms.  King. 
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. Manet Prince and Falstaff. Fal. 
Hal, if thou see me down in the battle,  
And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.  Prin. 
Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that friendship  
Say thy prayers, and farewell.  Fal. 
I would it were bed time Hal, and all well.  Prin. 
Why, thou ow'st heaven a death.  Falst. 
'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. But how if Honour prick me off when I come on? How then? Can Honour set too 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 that word Honour? Air: A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it 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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon. Wor. 
O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,  
The liberal kind offer of the King.  Ver. 
'Twere best he did.  Wor. 
Then we are all undone.  
It is not possible, it cannot be,  
The King would keep his word in loving us,  
He will suspect us still, and find a time  
To punish this offence in others faults:  
Supposition, all our lives, shall be stuck full of eyes;  
For Treason is but trusted like the Fox,  
Who ne'er so tame, so cherished, and locked up,  
Will have a wild trick of his Ancestors:  
Look how he can, or sad or merrily,  
Interpretation will misquote our looks,  
And we shall feed like Oxen at a stall,  
The better cherished, 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 hare-brained Hotspurre, governed by a Spleen:  
All his offences live upon my head,  
And on his Fathers. 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.  Ver. 
Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so.  
here comes your Cousin.  Enter Hotspur. Hot. 
My Uncle is returned,  
Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland.  
Uncle, what new-?  Wor. 
The King will bid you battle presently.  Dow. 
Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland.  Hot. 
Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so.  Dow. 
Marry and shall, and very willingly.  Exit Dowglas. Wor. 
There is no seeming mercy in the King.  Hot. 
Did you beg any? God forbidden.  Wor. 
I told him gently of our greevances,  
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.  Enter Dowglas. Dow. 
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.  Wor. 
The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the king,  
And Nephew, challenged you to single fight.  Hot. 
O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads,  
And that no man might draw short breath to day,  
But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell me,  
How showed his Talking? Seemed it in contempt?  Ver. 
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,  
Trimmed up your praises with a Princely tongue,  
Spoke your deservings like a Chronicle,  
Making you ever better than his praise,  
By still dispraising praise, valued with you:  
And which became him like a Prince indeed,  
He made a blushing citall of himself,  
And chid his Truant youth with such a Grace,  
As if he mastered 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.  Hot. 
Cousin, I think thou art enamoured  
On his Follies: never did I hear  
Of any Prince so wild at Liberty.  
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 Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends,  
Better consider what you have to do,  
That I that have not well the gift of Tongue,  
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
My Lord, here are Letters for you.  Hot. 
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,  
And if we live, we live to tread on Kings:  
If dye; brave death, when Princes die with us.  
Now for our Consciences, the Arms is fair,  
When the intent for bearing them is just.  Enter another Messenger. Mes. 
My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace.  Hot. 
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 I draw a Sword,  
Whose worthy temper I intent 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.  They embrace, the Trumpet's sound, the King entereth with his power, alarm unto the battle. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt. Blu. 
What is thy name, that in battle thus thou crossest me?  
What honour dost thou seek upon my head?  Dow. 
Know then my name is Dowglas,  
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,  
Because some tell me, that thou art a King.  Blunt. 
They tell thee true.  Dow. 
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 a Prisoner.  Blu. 
I was not borne to yield, thou haughty Scot,  
And thou shalt find a King that will revenge  
Lords Stafford's death.  Fight, Blunt is slain, then enters Hotspur. Hot. 
O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus I never had triumphed o'er a Scot  Dow. 
All's done, all's won, here breathless lies the king  Hot. 
Where?  Dow. 
here.  Hot. 
This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:  
A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,  
Semblably furnished like the King himself.  Dow. 
Ah fool: go with thy soul whether it goes,  
A borrowed Title hast thou bought too dear.  
Why didst thou tell me, that thou were't a King?  Hot. 
The King hath many marching in his Coats.  Dow. 
Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coats,  
I'll murder all his Wardrobe piece by piece,  
Until I meet the King.  Hot. 
up, and away,  
Our Soldiers stand full fairly for the day.  Exeunt Alarm, and enter Falstaff solus. Fal. 
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 molten Lead, and as heavy too; heaven keep Led out of me, I need no more weight than mine own Bowels. I have led my rag of Muffins where they are peppered: there's not three of my 150. left alive, and they for the Town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here?  Enter the Prince. Pri. 
What, standest thou idle here? Lend me thy sword,  
Many a Nobleman likes stark and stiff  
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,  
Whose deaths are unrevenged. Prithee lend me thy sword  Fal. 
O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breath awhile: Turk Gregory never did such deeds in Arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.  Prin. 
He is indeed, and living to kill thee:  
I prithee lend me thy sword.  Falst. 
Nay Hal, if Percy be alive, thou getst not my Sword; but take my Pistol if thou wilt.  Prin. 
Give it me: What, is it in the Case?  Fal. 
I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sack a City.  The Prince draws out a Bottle of Sack. Prin. 
What, is it a time to jest and dally now.  Exit. Throws it at him. Fal. 
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  

Scena Tertia.  Alarm, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord john of Lancaster, and Earl of Westmoreland. King. 
I prithee Harry withdraw thyself, thou bleedest too much: Lord john of Lancaster, go you with him.  P. joh. 
Not I, my Lord, unless I did bleed too.  Prin. 
I beseech your Majesty make up,  
Lest you retirement do amaze your friends.  King. 
I will do so:  
My Lord of Westmoreland lead him to his Tent.  West. 
Come my Lord, I'll lead you to your Tent.  Prin. 
Led me my Lord? I do not need your help;  
And heaven forbidden a shallow scratch should drive  
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,  
Where stained Nobility lies trodden on,  
And Rebels Arms triumph in massacres.  joh. 
We breathe too long: Come cousin Westmoreland,  
Our duty this way lies, for heaven's sake come.  Prin. 
By heaven 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. 
I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,  
With lustier maintenance than I did look for  
Of such an ungrowne Warrior.  Prin. 
O this Boy lends mettle to us all.  Exit. Enter Dowglas. Dow. 
Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:  
I am the Dowglas, fatal to all those  
That wear those colours on them. What art thou  
That counterfeitest the person of a King?  King. 
The King himself: who Dowglas grieves at hart  
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 fallest on me so luckily,  
I will assay thee: so defend thyself.  Dow. 
I fear thou art another counterfeit:  
And yet infaith thou bearest thee like a King:  
But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,  
And thus I win thee.  They fight, the K. being in danger, Enter Prince. Prin. 
Hold up they 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, Dowglas flieth. 
Cheerly My Lord: how fares your Grace?  
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for secure sent,  
And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton strait.  King. 
Stay, and breath awhile.  
Thou hast redeemed thy lost opinion,  
And showed thou makest some tender of my life  
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.  Prin. 
O heaven, they did me too much injury,  
That ever said I harkened to your death.  
If it were so, I might have let alone  
The insulting hand of Dowglas 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.  K. 
Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas Gausey.  Exit Enter Hotspur. Hot. 
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.  Prin. 
Thou speakest as if I would deny my name.  Hot. 
My name is Harrie Percy.  Prin. 
Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that 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.  Hot. 
Nor shall it Harry, for the hour is come  
To end the one of us; and would to heaven,  
Thy name in Arms, were now as great as mine.  Prin. 
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.  Hot. 
I can no longer brook thy Vanities.  Fight. Enter Falstaff. Fal. 
Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall find no Boys play here, I can tell you.  Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead. The Prince killeth Percy. Hot. 
Oh Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth:  
I better brook the loss of brittle life,  
Then those proud Titles thou hast won of me,  
They wound my thoughts worse, than the 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 Earth, and the cold hand of death,  
Lies on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust  
And food for—  Prin. 
For worms, brave Percy. Farewell great heart:  
Ill-weaued 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 the dead,  
Bears not alive so stout a Gentleman.  
If thou were't sensible of courtesy,  
I should not make so great 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 ignomy sleep with thee in the grave,  
But not remembered in thy Epitaph.  
What? Old Acquaintance? Can not all this flesh  
Keep in a little life? Poor jacke, 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:  
Embowelled will I see thee by and by,  
Till then, in blood, by Noble Percy lie.  Exit. Falstaff riseth up. Falst. 
Embowelled? If thou embowel me to day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me too to morrow. 'Twas time to counterfeit, or that hot Termagant Scot, had paid the scot and lot too, Sergeant? I am no counterfeit; to dye, 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. I am afraid of this Gunpowder Percy though he be dead. How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? 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, with a new wound in your thigh come you along me.  taketh Hotspur on his back. Enter Prince and john of Lancaster. Prin. 
Come Brother john, full bravely hast thou fleshed thy Maiden sword.  john. 
But soft, who have we here?  
Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?  Prin. 
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.  Fal. 
No, that's certain: I am not a double man: but if I be not jacke Falstaff, then am I a jacke: There is Percy, 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.  Prin. 
Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.  Fal. 
Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how the 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 Shrewsburie 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't on my death I gave him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were alive, and would deny it, I would make him eat a piece of my sword.  john. 
This is the strangest Tale that e'er I heard.  Prin. 
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 giled it with the happiest terms I have.  A Retreat is sounded. 
The Trumpet's sound Retreat, the day is ours:  
Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field,  
To see what Friends are living, who are dead.  Exeunt Fal. 
I'll follow as they say, for Reward. He that rewards me, heaven reward him. If I do grow great again, I'll grow less? For I'll purge, and leave Sack, and live cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.  Exit  

Scaena Quarta.  The Trumpet's sound. Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord john of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners. King. 
Thus ever did Rebellion find Rebuke.  
Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not 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 out Armies, true Intelligence.  Wor. 
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. 
Bear Worcester to death, and Vernon too:  
Other Offenders we will pause upon.  Exit Worcester and Vernon. 
How goes the Field?  Prin. 
The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when he saw  
The fortune of the day quite turned 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 Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace.  
I may dispose of him.  King. 
With all my heart.  Prin. 
Then Brother john of Lancaster,  
To you this honourable bounty shall belong:  
Go to the Dowglas, 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.  King. 
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 way,  
Meeting the Check of such another day:  
And since this Business so fair is done,  
Let us not leave till all our own be won.  Exeunt.   
FINIS.   

The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Containing his Death: and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  
INDUCTION.  Enter 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 Tongue, continual Slanders ride,  
The which, in every Language, I pronounce,  
Stuffing the Ears of them 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 Masters, and prepared Defence,  
Whilst the big year, swollen with some other griefs,  
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 Anathomize  
Among my household? Why is Rumour here?  
I run before King Harry's victory,  
Who in a bloody field by Shrewsburie  
Hath beaten down young Hotspurre, 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 Hotspurres Sword:  
And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage  
Stooped his Anointed head, as low as death.  
This have I rumoured through the peasant-Townes,  
Between the Royal Field of Shrewsburie,  
And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone.  
Where Hotspurres Father, old Northumberland,  
Lies crafty sick. The Posts come tiring on,  
And not a man of them brings other news  
Than they have learned of Me. From Rumours Tongues,  
They bring smooth-Comforts-false, worse than True-wrongs.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter. L. Bar. 
Who keeps the Gate here ho●?  
Where is the Earl?  Por. 
What shall I say you are?  Bar. 
Tell thou the Earl  
That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him here.  Por. 
His Lordship is walked forth into the Orchard, Please it your Honour, knock but at the Gate, And he himself will answer.  Enter Northumberland. L. Bar. 
here comes the Earl.  Nor. 
What news Lord Bardolfe? 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 lose,  
And bears down all before him.  L. Bar. 
Noble Earl,  
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.  Nor. 
Good, and heaven will.  L. Bar. 
As good as heart can wish:  
The King is almost wounded to the death:  
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Son,  
Prince Harrie slain outright: and both the Blunts.  
Killed by the hand of Dowglas. Young Prince john,  
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the Field.  
And Harrie Monmouth's Brawn (the Hulk Sir john)  
Is prisoner to your Son. O, such a Day,  
(So fought, so followed, and so fairly won)  
Came not, till now, to dignify the Times  
Since Caesar's Fortunes.  Nor. 
How is this derived?  
Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?  L. Bar. 
I spoke with one (my L.) that came from thence,  
A Gentleman well bred, and of good name,  
That freely rendered me these news for true.  Nor. 
here comes my Servant Travers, whom I sent On Tuesday last, to listen after News.  Enter Travers. L. Bar. 
My Lord, I over-rod him on the way,  
And he is furnished with no certainties,  
More than he (haply) may retail from me.  Nor. 
Now Travers, what good tidings comes from you?  Tra. 
My Lord, Sir john Vmfrevill turned me back  
With joyful tidings; and (being better horsed)  
Out-rod me. After him, came spurring head  
A Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed)  
That stopped by me, to breathe his bloodied horse.  
He asked the way to Chester: And of him  
I did demand what News from Shrewsbury:  
He told me, that Rebellion had ill luck,  
And that young Harry Percies Spur was cold.  
With that he gave his able Horse the head,  
And bending forwards strooke his able heels  
Against the panting sides of his poor jade  
up to the Rowel head, and starting so,  
He seemed in running, to devour the way,  
Staying no longer question.  North. 
Ha'? Again:  
Said he young Harrie Percyes' Spur was cold?  
(Of Hotspur, cold-Spurre?) that Rebellion,  
Had met ill luck?  L. Bar. 
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.  Nor. 
Why should the Gentleman that road by Travers  
Give then such instances of Loss?  L. Bar. 
Who, he?  
He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolen  
The Horse he rode-on: and upon my life  
Speak at adventure. Look, here comes more News.  Enter Morton. Nor. 
Yea, this man's brow, like to a Title-leafe,  
Foretells the Nature of a Tragic Volume:  
So looks the Strand, when the Imperious Flood  
Hath left a witnessed Usurpation.  
Say Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?  Mor. 
I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)  
Where hateful death put on his ugliest Mask  
To fright our party.  North. 
How doth my Son, and Brother?  
Thou trembl'st; and the whiteness in thy Cheek  
Is apt than thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.  
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,  
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-be-gone,  
Drew Priam's Curtain, in the dead of night,  
And would have told him, Half his Troy was burned.  
But Priam found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:  
And I, my Percies death, ere thou reportest it.  
This, thou wouldst say: Your Son did thus, and thus:  
Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas,  
Stopping my greedy ear, with their bold deeds.  
But in the end (to stop mine Ear indeed)  
Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise,  
Ending with Brother, Son, and all are dead.  Mor. 
Dowglas is living, and your Brother, yet:  
But for my Lord, your Son.  North. 
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 feared, is chanced. Yet speak (Morton)  
Tell thou thy Earl, his Divination Lies,  
And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace,  
And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong.  Mor. 
You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid:  
Your Spirit is too true, your Fears too certain.  North. 
Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead.  
I see a strange Confession in thine Eye:  
Thou shak'st 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  
Remembered, knolling a departing Friend.  L. Bar. 
I cannot think (my Lord) your son is dead.  Mor. 
I am sorry, I should force you to believe  
That, which I would to heaven, I had not seen.  
But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,  
Rendering faint quittance (wearied, and out-breathed)  
To Henry 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 Peazant in his Camp)  
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away  
From the best tempered Courage in his Troops▪  
For from his Mettle, was his Party steeled;  
Which once, in him abated, all the rest  
Turned 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 Hotspurres loss,  
Lend to this weight, such lightness with their Fear,  
That Arrows fled not swifter toward their aim,  
Then did our Soldiers (aiming at their safety)  
Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worcester  
Too soon ta'en prisoner: and that furious Scot,  
(The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword  
Had three times slain th' appearance of the King,  
'Gan veil his stomach, and did grace the shame  
Of those that turned their backs: and in his flight,  
Stumbling in Fear, was taken. 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.  North. 
For this, I shall have time enough to mourn.  
In Poison, there is Physic: and this news  
(Having been well) that would have made me sick,  
Being sick, have in some measure, made me well.  
And as the Wretch, whose Feaver-weakned 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  
(weakened 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 Coif,  
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,  
Which Princes, fleshed with Conquest, aim to hit.  
Now bind my Brows with Iron, and approach  
The raggedest hour, that Time and Spite dare bring  
To frown upon th' enraged Northumberland.  
Let Heaven kiss Earth: now let not Nature's hand  
Keep the wild Flood confined: Let Order dye,  
And let the world no longer be a stage  
To feed Contention in a lingering Act:  
But let one spirit of the Firstborn 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.  L. Bar. 
Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your Honor.  Mor. 
The lives of all your loving Complices  
Leane-on your health, the which if you give o'er  
To stormy Passion, must perforce decay.  
You cast th' event of War (my Noble Lord)  
And summed the account of Chance, before you said  
Let us make head: It was your presurmize,  
That in the dole of blows, your Son might drop.  
You knew he walked o'er perils, on an edge  
More likely to fall in, then 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 stiffe-borne Action: What hath then befallen?  
Or what hath this bold enterprise bring forth,  
More than that Being, which was like to be?  L. Bar. 
We all that are engaged to this loss,  
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous Seas,  
That if we wrought out life, was ten to one:  
And yet we ventured for the gain proposed,  
Choked the respect of likely peril feared,  
And since we are o're-set, venture again.  
Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods,  Mor. 
'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 Corpses,  
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, constrained  
As men drink Potions; that their Weapons only  
Seemed 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 Bullingbrooke,  
And more, and less, do flock to follow him.  North. 
I knew of this before. But to speak truth,  
This present grief had wiped it from my mind.  
Go in with me, and council every man  
The aptest way for safety, and revenge:  
Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed,  
Never so few, nor never yet more need.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Falstaff, and Page. Fal. 
Sirrah, you giant, what says the Doct. to my water?  Pag. 
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.  Fal. 
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the brain of this foolish compounded Clay-man, is not able to invent any thing 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, then to set me off, why then I have no judgement. Thou whoreson Mandrake, thou art fit to be worn in my cap, then to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an Agate till now: but I will set you neither in Gold, nor Silver, but in vild apparel, and send you back again to your Master, for a jewel. The Iwenall (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: yet he will not stick to say, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heaven may finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still at a Face-Royall, for a Barber shall never earn six pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever since his Father was a Bachelor. He may keep his own Grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said M. Dombledon, about the Satin for my short Cloak, and Slops?  Pag. 
He said sir, you should procure him better Assurance, than Bardolfe: he would not take his Bond & yours, he liked not the Security.  Fal. 
Let him be damned like the Glutton, may 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, than 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 he should have sent me two and twenty yards of Satin (as I am 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 Lantern to light him. Where's Bardolfe?  Pag. 
He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.  Fal. 
I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield. If I could get me a wife in the Stews, I were Manned, Horsed, and Wived.  Enter Chief justice, and Servant. Pag. 
Sir, here comes the Nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him, about Bardolfe.  Fal. 
Wait close, I will not see him.  Ch. Just. 
What's he that goes there?  Ser. 
Falstaff, an't please your Lordship.  Just. 
He that was in question for the Robbery?  Ser. 
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.  Iust. 
What to York? Call him back again.  Ser. 
Sir john Falstaff.  Fal. 
Boy, tell him, I am deaf.  Pag. 
You must speak louder, my Master is deaf.  Just. 
I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good.  
Go pluck him by the Elbow, I must speak with him.  Ser. 
Sir john.  Fal. 
What? a young knave and beg? Is there not wars? Is there not employment? Doth not the K. lack subjects? Do not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg, then to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of Rebellion can tell how to make it.  Ser. 
You mistake me Sir.  Fal. 
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.  Ser. 
I pray you (Sir) then set your Knighthood and your 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.  Fal. 
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 tak'st leave, thou were't better be hanged: you Hunt-counter, hence: Avaunt.  Ser. 
Sir, my Lord would speak with you.  Just. 
Sir john Falstaff, a word with you.  Fal. 
My good Lord: give your Lordship good time of the 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 most humbly beseech your Lordship, to have a reverend care of your health.  Just. 
Sir john, I sent you before your Expedition, to Shrewsburie.  Fal. 
If it please your Lordship, I hear his Majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales.  Just. 
I talk not of his Majesty: you would not come when I sent for you?  Fal. 
And I hear moreover, his Highness is fall'n into this same whoreson Apoplexy.  Just. 
Well, heaven mend him. I pray let me speak with you.  Fal. 
This Apoplexy is (as I take it) a kind of Lethargy, a sleeping of the blood, a whoreson Tingling.  Just. 
What tell you me of it? be it as it is.  Fal. 
It hath it 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.  Just. 
I think you are fall'n into the disease: For you hear not what I say to you.  Fal. 
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.  Just. 
To punish you by the heels, would amend the attention of your ears, & I care not if I be your Physician  Fal. 
I am as poor as job, my Lord; but not so Patiented: your Lordship may minister the Potion of imprisonment to me, in respect of Poverty: but how I should be your Patient, to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeed, a scruple itself.  Just. 
I sent for you (when there were matters against you for your life) to come speak with me.  Fal. 
As I was then advised by my learned Council, in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.  Just. 
Well, the truth is (sir john) you live in great infamy  Fal. 
He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in less.  Just. 
Your Means is very slender, and your waist great.  Fal. 
I would it were otherwise: I would my Means were greater, and my waste slenderer.  Just. 
You have misled the youthful Prince.  Fal. 
The young Prince hath misled me. I am the Fellow with the great belly, and he my Dog.  Just. 
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 Gadshill. You may thank the unquiet time, for your quiet o're-posting that Action.  Fal. 
My Lord?  Just. 
But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping Wolf.  Fal. 
To wake a Wolf, is as bad as to smell a Fox.  Iu. 
What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out  Fal. 
A Wassell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.  Just. 
There is not a white hair on your face, but should have his effect of gravity.  Fal. 
His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.  Justiniano 
You follow the young Prince up and down, like his evil Angel.  Fal. 
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 Costormongers, that true valour is turned Beareheard. Pregnancy is made a Tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving Reckon: 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 measure the heat of our Livers, with the bitterness of your galls: & we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.  Just. 
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 incresing belly? Is not your voice broken? your wind short? your wit single? and every part about you blasted with Antiquity? and will you call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, sir john.  Fal. 
My Lord, I was borne with a white head, & something a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hallowing and singing of Anthems. To approve my youth farther, I will not: the truth is, I am only old in judgement and understanding: and he that will caper with me for a thousand Marks, let him lend me the money, & have at him. For the box of th' ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude Prince, and you took it like a sensible Lord. I have checked him for it, and the young Lion reputes: Mary not in ashes and sackecloath, but in new Silk, and old Sack.  Just. 
Well, heaven send the Prince a better companion.  Fal. 
Heaven send the Companion a better Prince: I cannot rid my hands of him.  Just. 
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  Fal. 
Yes, 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 if I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, if I brandish any thing but my Bottle, 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.  Just. 
Well, be honest, be honest, and heaven bless your Expedition.  Fal. 
Will your Lordship lend me a thousand pound, to furnish me forth?  Just. 
Not a penny, not a penny: you are too impatient to bear crosses. Far you well. Commend me to my Cousin Westmoreland.  Fal. 
If I do, fillip me with a three-man-Beetle. A man can no more separate Age and Covetousness, than he 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.  Fal. 
What money is in my purse?  Page. 
Seven groats▪ and two pence.  Fal. 
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. A pox of this Gout, or a Gout of this Pox: for the one or th' other plays the rogue with my great toe: It is 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.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Archbishop, Hastings, Mowbray, and Lord Bardolfe. Ar. 
Thus have you heard our causes, & know our Means:  
And my most noble Friends, I pray you all  
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes,  
And first (Lord Martial) what say you to it?  Mow. 
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.  Hast. 
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.  L. Bar. 
The question then (Lord Hastings) standeth thus  
Whether our present five and twenty thousand  
May hold-up-head, without Northumberland:  Hast. 
With him, we may.  L. Bar. 
I marry, there's the point:  
But if without him we be thought to feeble,  
My judgement is, we should not step too fare  
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.  Arch. 
'Tis very true Lord Bardolfe, for indeed  
It was young Hotspurres case, at Shrewsbury.  L. Bar. 
It was (my Lord) who lived himself with hope,  
Eating the air, on promise of Supply,  
Flattering himself with Project of a power,  
Much smaller, than the smallest of his Thoughts,  
And so with great imagination  
(Proper to mad men led his Powers to death,  
And (winking) leaped into destruction.  Hast. 
But (by your leave) it never yet did hurt,  
To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope.  L. Bar. 
Yes, if this present quality of war,  
Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot,  
Life's so in hope: As in an early Spring,  
We see th' 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 least, 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.  Hast. 
Grant that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth)  
Should be stillborn, and that we now possessed  
The utmost man of expectation:  
I think we are a Body strong enough  
(Even as we are) to equal with the King.  L. Bar. 
What is the King but five & twenty thousand?  Hast. 
To us no more: nay not so much Lord Bardolf.  
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 unfirme King  
In three divided: and his Coffers sound  
With hollow Poverty, and Emptiness.  Ar. 
That he should draw his several strengths together  
And come against us in full puissance  
Need not be dreaded.  Hast. 
If he should do so,  
He leaves his back unarmed, the French, and Welsh  
Baying him at the heels: never fear that.  L. Bar. 
Who is it like should lead his Forces hither?  Hast. 
The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland:  
Against the Welsh himself, and Harrie Monmouth.  
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,  
I have no certain notice.  Arch. 
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 Bullingbrooke,  
Before he was, what thou wouldst have him be?  
And being now trimmed in thine own desires,  
Thou (beastly Feeder) art so full of him,  
That thou prouok'st thyself to cast him up.  
So, so, (thou common Dog) didst thou disgorge  
Thy glutton-bosome of the Royal Richard,  
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,  
And howlest to find it. What trust is in these Times?  
They, that when Richard lived, would have him dye,  
Are now become enamoured on his grave.  
Thou that threw'st dust upon goodly head  
When through proud London he came sighing on,  
After th' admired heels of Bullingbrooke,  
Criest now, O Earth, yield us that King agine,  
And take thou this (O thoughts of men accursed)  
" Past, and to Come, seems best; things Present, worst.  Mow. 
Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on?  Hast. 
We are Times subjects, and Time bids, be gone.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Hostess, with two Officers, Fang, and Snare. Hostess. 
Mr. Fang, have you entered the Action?  Fang. 
It is entered.  Hostess. 
where's your Yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman?  
Will he stand to it?  Fang. 
Sirrah, where's Snare?  Hostess. 
I, I, good M. Snare.  Snare. 
here, here.  Fang. 
Snare, we must Arrest Sir john Falstaff.  Host. 
I good M. Snare, I have entered him, and all.  Sn. 
It may chance cost some of us our lives: he will stab  Hostess. 
Alas the day: take heed of him: he stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly: he cares not what mischief he doth, 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.  Hostess. 
No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow.  Fang. 
If I but fist him once: if he come but within my Vice.  Host. 
I am undone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitive thing upon my score. Good M. Fang hold him sure: good M. Snare let him not scape, he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (saving your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and he is indicted to dinner to the Lubbars' head in Lombardstreet, to M. Smooths the Silkman. I pra'ye, since my Action is entered, and my Case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100 Mark is a long one, for a poor lone woman to bear: & I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have been fubbed off, and fub'd-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 Knaves wrong.  Enter Falstaff and Bardolfe. 
Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M. Fang, & M. Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices.  Fal. 
How now? whose mere's dead? what's the matter?  Fang. 
Sir john, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly.  Falst. 
Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the Villain's head: throw the Quean in the Channel.  Host. 
Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Honeysuckle villain, wilt thou kill God's officers, and the Kings? O thou honyseed Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Manqueller, and a woman-queller.  Falst. 
Keep them off, Bardolfe.  Fang 
A rescu, a rescu.  Host. 
Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempseed.  Page. 
Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian: I'll tuck your Catastrophe.  Enter. Ch. justice. Just. 
What's the matter? Keep the Peace here, hoa.  Host. 
Good my Lord be good to me. I beseech you stand to me.  Ch. Just. 
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 hangest upon him?  Host. 
Oh my most worshipful Lord, an't please your Grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.  Ch. Just. 
For what sum?  Host. 
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.  Falst. 
I think I am as like to ride the Mare, if I have any vantage of ground, to get up.  Changed▪ Justiniano. 
How comes this, Sir john? Fie, what a 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?  Falst. 
What is the gross sum that I own thee?  Host. 
Marry (if thou were't an honest man) thyself, & 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, on Wednesday in Whitsun week, when the Prince broke thy head for lik'ning him 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 good wife 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 not thou (when she was gone down stairs) desire me to be no more familiar with such poor people, saying, that ere long they should call me Madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee 30. s? I put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if thou canst?  Fal. 
My Lord, this is a poor mad soul: and she says up & down the town, that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in good case, & the truth is, poverty hath distracted her: but for these foolish Officers, I beseech you, I may have redress against them.  Just. 
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, I know you ha' practised upon the easie-yeelding spirit of this woman.  Host. 
Yes in troth my Lord.  Just. 
Prithee peace: pay her the debt you own her, and unpay the villainy you have done her: the one you may do with sterling money, & the other with currant repentance.  Fal. 
My Lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You call honourable Boldness, impudent Sauciness: If a man will curtsy, and say nothing, he is virtuous: No, my Lord (your humble duty remembered) I will not be your suitor. I say to you, I desire deliu'rance from these Officers being upon hasty employment in the King's Affairs.  Just. 
You speak, as having power to do wrong: But answer in the effect of your Reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.  Falst. 
Come hither Hostess.  Enter M. Gower Ch. Justiniano. 
Now Master Gower; What news?  Gow. 
The King (my Lord) and Henry Prince of Wales  
Are near at hand: The rest the Paper tells.  Falst. 
As I am a Gentleman.  Host. 
Nay, you said so before.  Fal. 
As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it  Host. 
By this Heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my Plate, and the Tapestry of my dining Chambers.  Fal. 
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 Waterworke, is worth a thousand of these Bed-hanging, and these Fly-bitten Tapestries. Let it be ten pound (if thou canst.) Come, if it were not for thy humours, there is not a better Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy Action: Come, thou must not be in this humour with me, come, I know thou was't set on to this.  Host. 
Prithee (Sir john) let it be but twenty Nobles, I loathe to pawn my Plate, in good earnest la.  Fal. 
Let it alone, I'll make other shift: you'll be a fool still.  Host. 
Well, you shall have it although I pawn my Gown. I hope you'll come to Supper: You'll pay me altogether?  Fal. 
Will I live? Go with her, with her: hooke-on, hooke-on.  Host. 
Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?  Fal. 
No more words. Let's have her.  Ch. Iust. 
I have heard bitter news.  Fal 
What's the news (my good Lord?)  Ch. Iu. 
Where lay the King last night?  Mes. 
At Basingstoke my Lord.  Fal. 
I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the news my Lord?  Ch Just. 
Come all his Forces back?  Mes. 
No: Fifteen hundred Foot, five hundred Horse  
Are marched up to my Lord of Lancaster,  
Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop.  Fal. 
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble L?  Ch. Just. 
You shall have Letters of me presently.  
Come, go along with me, good M. Gowre.  Fal. 
My Lord.  Ch. Just. 
What's the matter?  Fal. 
Master Gowre, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?  Gow. 
I must wait upon my good Lord here.  
I thank you, good Sir john.  Ch. Just. 
Sir john, you loiter here too long being you are to take Soldiers up, in Countries as you go.  Fal. 
Will you sup with me, Master Gowre?  Ch. Just. 
What foolish Master taught you these manners, Sir john?  Fal. 
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.  Ch. Just. 
Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great Foole.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page. Prin. 
Trust me, I am exceeding weary.  Poin. 
Is it come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood.  Prin. 
It doth me: though it discolours the complexion of my Greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vildly in me, to desire small Beer?  Poin. 
Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember so weak a Composition.  Prince. 
Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely got▪ for (in 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 one other, for use. But that the Tennis-Court-keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb of Linen with thee, when thou keptest 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.  Poin. 
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 Father's lying so sick, as yours is?  Prin. 
Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?  Poin. 
Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.  Prin. 
It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.  Poin. 
Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that you'll tell.  Prin. 
Why, I tell thee, it is not mere, that I should be sad now my Father is sick: albeit I could tell to thee (as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend) I could be sad and sad indeed too.  Poin 
Very hardly upon such a subject.  Prin. 
Thou thinkest me as fare in the Devil's Book, as thou, and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistencie. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inwardly, that my Father is so sick: and keeping such vild company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all ostentation of sorrow.  Poin. 
The reason?  Prin. 
What wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep?  Poin. 
I would think thee a most Princely hypocrite.  Prin. 
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 Rode-way better than thine: every man would think me an Hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so?  Poin. 
Why, because you have been so lewd, and so much ingraffed to Falstaff.  Prin. 
And to thee.  Pointz. 
Nay, I am well spoken of, I can hear it with mine 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. Look, look, here comes Bardolfe.  Prince. 
And the Boy that I gave Falstaff, he had him from me Christian, and see if the fat villain have not transformed him Ape.  Enter Bardolfe. Bar. 
Save your Grace.  Prin. 
And yours, most Noble Bardolfe.  Poin. 
Come you pernicious Ass, you bashful Fool, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? what a Maidenly man at Arms are you become? Is it such a matter to get a Pottle-pots Maidenhead?  Page. 
He called me even 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 me thought he had made two holes in the Alewives new Petticoat, & peeped through.  Prin. 
Hath not the boy profited?  Bar. 
Away, you whoreson upright Rabbit, away.  Page. 
Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away.  Prin. 
Instruct us Boy: what dream, Boy?  Page. 
Marry (my Lord) Althaea dreamed, she was delivered of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him her dream.  Prince. 
A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation: There it is, Boy.  Poin. 
O that this good Blossom could be kept from Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserve thee.  Bard. 
If you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall be wronged.  Prince. 
And how doth thy Master, Bardolph?  Bar. 
Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces coming to Town. There's a Letter for you.  Poin. 
Delivered with good respect: And how doth the Martlemas, your Master?  Bard. 
In bodily health Sir.  Poin. 
Marry, the immortal part needs a Physician: but that moves not him: though that be sick, it dies not.  Prince. 
I do allow this Wen to be as familiar with me, as my dog: and he holds his place, for look you he writes.  Poin. Letter. 
john Falstaff Knight: (Every man must know that, as oft as he hath occasion to name himself:) Even like those that are kin to the King, for they never prick their finger, but they say, there is 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 borrowed cap: I am the Kings poor Cousin, Sir.  Prince. 
Nay, they will be kin to us, but they will fetch it from japhet. But to the Letter:— Sir john Falstaff, Knight, to the Son of the King, nearest his Father, Harrie Prince of Wales, greeting.  Poin. 
Why this is a Certificate.  Prin. 
Peace.  
I will imitate the honourable Romans' in brevity.  Poin. 
Sure he means brevity in breath: shortwinded. I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Pointz, for he misuses thy Favours so much, that he swears thou art to marry his Sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell.  
Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou usest him. jacke Falstaff with my Familiars: john with my Brothers and Sister: & Sir john, with all Europe.  
My Lord, I will steep this Letter in Sack, and make him eat it.  Prin. 
That's to make him eat twenty of his Words.  
But do you use me thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister?  Poin. 
May the Wench have no worse Fortune. But I never said so.  Prin. 
Well, thus we play the Fools with the time & the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mock us: Is your Master here in London?  Bard. 
Yes my Lord.  Prin. 
Where sups he? Doth the old Boar, feed in the old Frank?  Bard. 
At the old place my Lord, in Eastcheap.  Prin. 
What Company?  Page. 
Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church.  Prin. 
Sup any women with him?  Page. 
None my Lord, but old Mistress Quickly, and M. Doll Tearsheet.  Prin. 
What Pagan may that be?  Page. 
A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman of my Masters.  Prin. 
Even such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the Town-bull?  
Shall we steal upon them (Ned) at Supper?  Poin. 
I am your shadow, my Lord, I'll follow you.  Prin. 
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your Master that I am yet in Town.  
There's for your silence.  Bar. 
I have no tongue, sir.  Page. 
And for mine Sir, I will govern it.  Prin. 
Far ye well: go.  
This Doll Tearsheet should be some Rode.  Poin. 
I warrant you, as common as the way between S. Alban, and London.  Prin. 
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to night, in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?  Poin 
Put on two Leather jerkins, and Aprons, and wait upon him at his Table, like Drawers.  Prin. 
From a God, to a Bull? A heavy declension: It was Jove's case. From a Prince, to a Apprentice, a low transformation, that shall be mine: for in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Fellow me Ned.  Exeunt  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Northumberland, his Lady, and Harrie Percies Lady. North. 
I prithee loving Wife, and gentle Daughter,  
Give an even way unto my rough Affairs:  
Put not you on the visage of the Times,  
And be like them to Percy, troublesome.  Wife. 
I have given over, I will speak no more,  
Do what you will: your Wisdom, be your guide.  North. 
Alas (sweet Wife) my Honour is at pawn,  
And but my going, nothing can redeem it.  La. 
Oh yet, for heaven's sake, go not to these Wars;  
The Time was (Father) when you broke your word,  
When you were more endeared to it, than now,  
When your own Percy, when my heart-deere 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 Sons.  
For Yours, may heavenly glory 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 Gate:  
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 Gate,  
In Diet, in Affections of delight,  
In Military Rules, Humours of Blood,  
He was the Mark, and Glass, Copy, and Book,  
That fashioned others. And him, O wondrous! him,  
O Miracle of Men! Him did you leave  
(Second to none) un-seconded by you,  
To look upon the hideous God of War,  
In disadvantage, to abide a field,  
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspurs 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, then 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 Hotspurs Neck)  
Have talked of Monmouth's Grave.  North. 
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.  Wife. 
O fly to Scotland,  
Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons,  
Have of their Puissance made a little taste.  Lady. 
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 suffered; 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.  North. 
Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Mind  
As with the Tide, swelled 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.  

Scaena Quarta.  Enter two Drawers. 1. Drawer. 
What hast thou brought there? Apple-iohns'? Thou knowst Sir john cannot endure an Apple-john.  2. Draw. 
Thou sayest true: the Prince once set a Dish of Apple-iohns' before him, and told him there were five more Sir john's: 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.  1. Draw. 
Why then cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's Noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain have some Music.  2. Draw. 
Sirrah, here will be the Prince, and Master Points, anon: and they will put on two of our jerkins, and Aprons, and Sir john must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought word.  1. Draw. 
Then here will be old Vtis: it will be an excellent stratagem.  2. Draw. 
I'll see if I can find out Sneake.  Exit. Enter Hostess, and Dol. Host. 
Sweetheart, me thinks now you are in an excellent good temperalitie: your Pulsidge beats as extraordinarily, as heart would desire; and your Colour (I warrant you) is as red as any Rose: But you have drunk too much Canaries, and that's a marvelous searching Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can say what's this. How do you now?  Dol. 
Better than I was: Hem.  Host. 
Why that was well said: A good heart's worth Gold. Look, here comes Sir john.  Enter Falstaff. Falst. 
When Arthur first in Court— (empty the jordan) and was a worthy King: How now Mistress Dol?  Host. 
Sick of a Calm: yea, goodsooth.  Falst. 
So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calm, they are sick.  Dol. 
You muddy Rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?  Falst. 
You make fat Rascals, Mistress Dol.  Dol. 
I make them? Gluttony and Diseases make them, I make them not.  Falst. 
If the Cook make the Gluttony, you help to make the Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch of you: Grant that my poor Virtue, grant that.  Dol. 
I marry, our Chains, and our jewels.  Falst. 
Your Brooches, 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 charg'd-Chambers bravely.  Host. 
Why this is the old fashion: you two never meet, but you fall to some discord: you are both (in good troth) as Rheumatic as two dry Tostes, you cannot one bear with another's Confirmities. What the goodyere? One must bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker Vessel; as they say, the emptier Vessel.  Dol. 
Can a weak empty Vessel bear such a huge full Hogshead? There's a whole Merchant's Venture of Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you have not seen a Hulk better stuffed in the Hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee jacke: Thou art going to the Wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again, or no, there is no body cares.  Enter Drawer. Drawer. 
Sir, Ancient Pistol is below, and would speak with you.  Dol. 
Hang him, swaggering Rascal, let him not come hither: it is the foule-mouth'dst Rogue in England.  Host. 
If he swagger, let him not come here: I must live amongst 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.  Falst. 
Dost thou hear, Hostess?  Host. 
Pray you pacify yourself (Sir john) there comes no Swaggerers here.  Falst. 
Dost thou hear? it is mine Ancient.  Host. 
Tillyvally (Sir john) never tell me, your ancient Swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick the Deputy, the other day: and as he said to me, it was no longer ago than Wednesday last: Neighbour Quickly (says he;) Master Dumb, our Minister, was by then: Neighbour Quickly (says he) receive those that are Civil; for (saith he) you are in an ill Name: now he 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.  Falst. 
he's no Swaggerer (Hostess:) a tame Cheater, he: you may stroke him as gently, as a Puppy Greyhound: he will not swagger with a Barbary Hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. Call him up (Drawer.)  Host. 
Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no Cheater: but I do not love swaggering; I am the worse when one says, swagger: Feel Masters, how I shake: look you, I warrant you.  Dol. 
So you do, Hostess.  Host. 
Do I? yea, in very truth do I, if it were an Aspen leaf: I cannot abide Swaggerers.  Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy. Pissed. 
'Saue you, Sir john.  Falst. 
Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge you with a Cup of Sack: do you discharge upon mine Hostess.  Pissed. 
I will discharge upon her (Sir john) with two Bullets.  Falst. 
She is Pistol-proof (Sir) you shall hardly offend her.  Host. 
Come, I'll drink no Proofs, nor no Bullets: I will drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.  Pissed. 
Then to you (Mistress Dorothy) I will charge you.  Dol. 
Charge me? I scorn you (scurvy Companion) what? you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate: away you mouldy Rogue, away; I am meat for your Master.  Pissed. 
I know you, Mistress Dorothy.  Dol. 
Away you Cutpurse Rascal, you filthy Bung, away: By this Wine, I'll thrust my Knife in your mouldy Chaps, if you play the saucy Cuttle with me. Away you Bottle-Ale Rascal, you Basket-hilt stolen juggler, you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points on your shoulder? much.  Pissed. 
I will murder your Ruff, for this.  Host. 
No, good Captain Pistol: not here, sweet Captain.  Dol. 
Captain? thou abominable damned Cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called Captain? If 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 life's upon mouldy stew'd-Pruines, and dry'de Cakes. A Captain? These Villains will make the word Captain odious: Therefore Captains had need look to it.  Bard. 
Pray thee go down, good Ancient.  Falst. 
Hark thee hither, Mistress Dol.  Pist. 
Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her: I'll be revenged on her.  Page. 
Pray thee go down.  Pissed. 
I'll see her damned first: to Pluto's damned Lake, to the Infernal Deep, where Erebus and Tortures vild also. Hold Hooke and Line, say I: down: down Dogs, down Fates: have we not Hiren here?  Host. 
Good Captain Peesel be quiet, it is very late: I beseek you now, aggravate your Choler.  Pissed. 
These be good Humours indeed. Shall Packhorses, and hollow-pampered jades of Asia, which cannot go but thirty miles a day, compare with Caesar, and with Cannibals, and Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roar: shall we fall foul for Toys?  Host. 
By my troth Captain, these are very bitter words.  Bard. 
Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a Brawl anon.  Pissed. 
Die men, like Dogs; give Crowns like Pins: Have we not Hiren here?  Host. 
On my word (Captain) there's none such here. What the goodyere, do you think I would deny her? I pray be quiet.  Pist. 
Then feed, and be fat (my fair Calipolis.) Come, give me some Sack, Si fortune me torment, sperato me content. Fear we broadsides? No, let the Fiend give fire: Give me some Sack: and Sweetheart lie thou there: Come we to full Points here, and are et cetera's nothing?  Fal. 
Pistol, I would be quiet.  Pist. 
Sweet Knight, I kiss thy Neaffe: what? we have seen the seven Stars.  Dol. 
Thrust him down stairs, I cannot endure such a Fustian Rascal.  Pissed. 
Thrust him down stairs? know we not Galloway Nags?  Fal. 
Quoit him down (Bardolph) like a shove-groat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.  Bard. 
Come, get you down stairs.  Pissed. 
What? shall we have Incision? shall we imbrue? then Death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days: why then let grievous, ghastly, gaping Wounds, untwined the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say.  Host. 
Here's good stuff toward.  Fal. 
Give me my Rapier, Boy.  Dol. 
I prithee jack, I prithee do not draw.  Fal. 
Get you down stairs.  Host. 
Here's a goodly tumult: I'll forswear keeping house, before 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.  Dol. 
I prithee jack be quiet, the Rascal is gone: ah, you whoreson little valiant Villain, you.  Host. 
Are you not hurt i' th' Groin? me thought he made a shrewd Thrust at your Belly.  Fal. 
Have you turned him out of doors?  Bard. 
Yes Sir: the Rascall's drunk: you have hurt him (Sir) in the shoulder.  Fal. 
A Rascal to brave me.  Dol. 
Ah, you sweet little Rogue, you: alas, poor Ape, how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy Face: Come on, you whoreson Chaps: Ah Rogue, 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.  Fal. 
A rascally Slave, I will toss the Rogue in a Blanket.  Dol. 
Do, if thou darest for thy heart: if thou dost,  
I'll canvas thee between a pair of Sheets.  Enter Music. Page. 
The Music is come, Sir.  Fal. 
Let them play: play Sirs. Sat on my Knee, Dol. A Rascal, bragging Slave: the Rogue fled from me like Quicksilver.  Dol. 
And thou followd'st him like a Church: thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew Bore-pigge, when wilt thou leave fight on days, and foining on nights, and begin to patch up thine old Body for Heaven?  Enter the Prince and Poines disguised. Fal. 
Peace (good Dol) do not speak like a Deaths-head: do not bid me remember mine end.  Dol. 
Sirrah, what humour is the Prince of?  Fal. 
A good shallow young fellow: he would have made a good Pantler, he would have chipped Bread well.  Dol. 
They say Poines hath a good Wit.  Fal. 
He a good Wit? hang him Baboon, his Wit is as thick as Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more conceit in him, ●hen is in a Mallet.  Dol. 
Why doth the Prince love him so then?  Fal. 
Because their Legs are both of a bigness: and he plays at Quoits well and eats Conger and Fennell, and drinks off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides the wilde-Mare with the Boys, and jumps upon Ioyn'd-stooles, and swears with a good grace, and wears his Boot very smooth, like unto the Sign of the Leg; and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories: and such other Gambol Faculties he hath, 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 an hair will turn the Scales between their Haberdepois.  Prince. 
Would not this Nave of a Wheel have his Ears cut off?  Poin. 
Let us beat him before his Whore.  Prince. 
Look, if the withered Elder hath not his Poll clawed like a Parrot.  Poin. 
Is it not strange, that Desire should so many years outlive performance?  Fal. 
Kiss me Dol.  Prince. 
Saturn and Venus this year in Conjunction?  
What says the Almanac to that?  Poin. 
And look whether the fiery Trigon, his Man, be not lisping to his Master's old Tables, his Notebook, his Council-keeper?  Fal. 
Thou dost give me flattering Busses.  Dol. 
Nay truly, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.  Fal. 
I am old, I am old.  Dol. 
I love thee better, than I love ere a scurvy young Boy of them all.  Fal. 
What Stuffe wilt thou have a Kirtle of? I shall receive Money on Thursday: thou shalt have a Cap to morrow. A merry Song, come: it grows late, we will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone.  Dol. 
Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome, till thy return: well, harken the end.  Fal. 
Some Sack, Francis.  Prin. Poin. 
Anon, anon, Sir.  Fal. 
Ha'? a Bastard Son of the Kings? And art not thou Poines, his Brother?  Prince. 
Why thou Globe of sinful Continents, what a Life dost thou lead?  Fal. 
A better than thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer.  Prince. 
Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out by the Ears.  Host. 
Oh, the Lord preserve thy good Grace: Welcome to London. Now Heaven bless that sweet Face of thine: what, are you come from Wales?  Fal. 
Thou whoreson mad Compound of Majesty: by this light Flesh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome.  Dol. 
How? you fat Fool, I scorn you.  Poin. 
My Lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.  Prince. 
You whoreson Candle-myne you, how vildly did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil Gentlewoman?  Host. 
‛ Blessing on your good heart, and so she is by my troth.  Fal. 
Didst thou hear me?  Prince. 
Yes: and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gadshill: you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose, to try my patience.  Fal. 
No, no, no: not so: I did not think, thou wast within hearing.  Prince. 
I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.  Fal. 
No abuse (Hall) on mine Honour, no abuse.  Prince. 
Not to dispraise me? and call me Pantler, and Bread-chopper, and I know not what?  Fal. 
No abuse (Hal.)  Poin. 
No abuse?  Fal. 
No abuse (Ned) in 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 thankes for it. No abuse (Hal:) none (Ned) none; no Boys, none.  Prince. 
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 the Boy of the Wicked? Or honest Bardolph (whose Zeal burns in his Nose) of the Wicked?  Poin. 
Answer thou dead Elm, answer.  Fal. 
The Fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his Face is Lucifer's Privy-kitchin, where he doth nothing but roast Maultwormes: for the Boy, there is a good Angel about him, but the Devil out-bids him too.  Prince. 
For the Women?  Fal. 
For one of them, she is in Hell already, and burns poor Souls: for the other, I own her Money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not.  Host. 
No, I warrant you.  Fal. 
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.  Host. 
All Victuallers do so: What is a joint of Mutton, or two, in a whole Lent?  Prince. 
You, Gentlewoman.  Dol. 
What says your Grace?  Falst. 
His Grace says that, which his flesh rebels against.  Host. 
Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis?  Enter Peto. Prince. 
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,  
Bareheaded, sweeting, knocking at the Taverns,  
And ask every one for Sir john Falstaff.  Prince. 
By Heaven (Poines) 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.  Exit. Falst. 
Now comes in the sweetest Morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpickt. More knocking at the door? How now? what's the matter?  Bard. 
You must away to Court, Sir, presently,  
A dozen Captains stay at door for you.  Falst. 
Pay the Musicians, Sirrah: farewell Hostess, farewell Dol. You see (my good Wenches) how men of Merit are sought after: the undeseruer 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.  Dol. 
I cannot speak: if my heart be not ready to burst— Well (sweet jacke) have a care of thyself.  Falst. 
Farewell, farewell.  Exit. Host. 
Well, far thee well: I have known thee these twenty nine years, come Pescod-time: but an honester, and truer-hearted man— Well, far thee well.  Bard. 
Mistress Tearsheet.  Host. 
What's the matter?  Bard. 
Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my Master.  Host. 
Oh run Dol, run: run, good Dol.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter the King, with a Page. King. 
Go, call the Earls of Surrey, and of Warwick:  
But ere they come, bid them ore-reade these Letters,  
And well consider of them: make good speed.  Exit. 
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 Pallads stretching thee,  
And huisht with bussing Night, flies to thy slumber,  
Then in the perfumed Chambers of the Great?  
Under the Canopies of costly State,  
And lulled with sounds of sweetest Melody?  
O thou dull God, why liest thou with the vild,  
In loathsome Beds, and leav'st the Kingly Couch,  
A Watch-case, or a common Larum-Bell?  
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy Mast,  
Seal up the Shipboys 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 deaff'ning Clamours in the slippery Clouds,  
That with the hurley, 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 Lowe, lie down,  
Uneasy lies the Head, that wears a Crown.  Enter Warwick and Surrey. War. 
Many good-morrowes' to your Majesty.  King. 
Is it good-morrow, Lords?  War. 
'Tis One a Clock, and past.  King. 
Why then good-morrow to you all (my Lords:)  
Have you read o'er the Letters that I sent you?  War. 
We have (my Liege.)  King. 
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?  War. 
It is but as a Body, yet distempered,  
Which to his former strength may be restored,  
With good advice, and little Medicine:  
My Lord Northumberland will soon be cooled.  King. 
Oh Heaven, 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 beachie Girdle of the Ocean  
Too wide for Neptune's hips; how Chances mocks  
And Changes fill the Cup of Alteration  
With diverse Liquors. '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, toiled 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)  
When Richard, with his Eye, brimful of Tears,  
(Then checked, and rated by Northumberland)  
Did speak these words (now proved a Prophecy:)  
Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which  
My Cousin Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne:  
(Though then, Heaven knows, I had no such intent,  
But that necessity so bowed the State,  
That I and Greatness were compelled 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.  War. 
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 entreasured:  
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. 
Are these things than 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.  War. 
It cannot be (my Lord:)  
Rumour doth double, like the Voice, and Echo,  
The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace  
To go to bed, upon my Life (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 Glendour is dead.  
Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill,  
And these unseasoned hours perforce must add  
Unto your Sickness.  King. 
I will take your counsel:  
And were these inward Wars once out of hand,  
We would (dear Lords) unto the Holy-Land.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Shallow and Silence: with Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bull-calfe. Shal. 
Come-on, come-on, come-on: give me your Hand, Sir; give me your Hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by the Rood. And how doth my good Cousin Silence?  Sil. 
Good-morrow, good Cousin Shallow.  Shal. 
And how doth my Cousin, your Bed-fellow? and your fairest Daughter, and mine, my Goddaughter Ellen?  Sil. 
Alas, a black Ouzel (Cousin Shallow.)  Shal. 
By yea and nay, Sir, I dare say my Cousin William is become a good Scholar? he is at Oxford still, is he not?  Sil. 
Indeed Sir, to my cost.  Shal. 
He must then to the Inns of Court shortly: I was once of Clement's Inn; where (I think) they will talk of mad Shallow yet.  Sil. 
You were called lusty Shallow then (Cousin.)  Shal. 
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 Bare, and Francis Pick-bone, and Will Squele a Cot-sal-man, you had not four such Swindge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again: And I may say to you, we knew where the Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was jacke Falstaff (now Sir john) a Boy, and Page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.  Sil. 
This Sir john (Cousin) that comes hither anon about Soldiers?  Shal. 
The same Sir john, the very same: I saw him break Scoggan's Head at the Ourt-gate, when he was a Crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Samson Stockfish, a Fruiterer, behind Greyes-Inne. Oh the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of mine old Acquaintance are dead?  Sil. 
We shall all follow (Cousin.)  Shal. 
Certain: 'tis certain: very sure, very sure: Death is certain to all, all shall dye. How a good Yoke of Bullocks at Stamford Fair?  Sil. 
Truly Cousin, I was not there.  Shal. 
Death is certain. Is old Double of your Town living yet?  Sil. 
Dead, Sir.  Shal. 
Dead? See, see: he drew a good Bow: and dead? he shot a fine shoot. john of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much Money on his head. Dead? he would have clapped in the Clout at Twelvescore, and carried you a forehand Shaft at fourteen, and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of Ewes now?  Sil. 
Thereafter as they be: a score of good Ewes may be worth ten pounds.  Shal. 
And is old Double dead?  Enter Bardolph and his Boy. Sil. 
here come two of Sir john Falstaffes Men (as I think.)  Shal. 
Good-morrow, honest Gentlemen.  Bard. 
I beseech you, which is justice Shallow?  Shal. 
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?  Bard. 
My Captain (Sir) commends him to you: my Captain, Sir john Falstaff: a tall Gentleman, and a most gallant Leader.  Shal. 
He greets me well: (Sir) I knew him a good Back-Sword-man. How doth the good Knight? may I ask, how my Lady his Wife doth?  Bard. 
Sir, pardon: a Soldier is better accommodated, then with a Wife.  Shal. 
It is well said, Sir; and it is well said, indeed, too: Better accommodated? it is good, yea indeed is it: good phrases are surely, and every where very commendable. Accommodated, it comes of Accommodo: very good, a good Phrase.  Bard. 
Pardon, Sir, I have heard the word. Phrase call you it? by this Day, I know not the Phrase: but I will maintain the Word with my Sword, to be a Soldierlike Word, and a Word of exceeding good Command. Accommodated: that is, when a man is (as they say) accommodated: or, when a man is, being whereby he thought to be accommodated, which is an excellent thing.  Enter Falstaff. Shal. 
It is very just: Look, here comes good Sir john. Give me your hand, give me your Worship's good hand: Trust me, you look well: and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir john.  Fal. 
I am glad to see you well, good M. Robert Shallow: Master Surecard as I think?  Shal. 
No sir john, it is my Cousin Silence: in Commission with me.  Fal. 
Good M. Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.  Sil. 
Your good Worship is welcome.  Fal. 
Fie, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) have you provided me here half a dozen of sufficient men?  Shal. 
Marry have we sir: Will you sit?  Fal. 
Let me see them, I beseech you.  Shal. 
Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see: so, so, 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?  Moul. 
here, if it please you.  Shal. 
What think you (Sir john) a good limbed fellow: young, strong, and of good friends.  Fal. 
Is thy name Mouldy?  Moul. 
Yea, if it please you.  Fal. 
'Tis the more time thou wert used.  Shal. 
Ha', ha', ha', most excellent. Things that are mouldy, lack use: very singular good. Well said Sir john, very well said.  Fal. 
Prick him.  Moul. 
I was pricked well enough before, if 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 fit to go out, then I.  Fal. 
Go too: peace Mouldy, you shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent.  Moul. 
Spent?  Shallow. 
Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: Know you where you are? For the other sir john: Let me see: Simon Shadow.  Fal. 
I marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like to be a cold soldier.  Shal. 
Where's Shadow?  Shad. 
here sir.  Fal. 
Shadow, whose son art thou?  Shad. 
My Mother's son, Sir.  Falst. 
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 not of the Father's substance.  Shal. 
Do you like him, sir john?  Falst. 
Shadow will serve for Summer: prick him: For we have a number of shadows to fill up the Muster-book.  Shal. 
Thomas Wart?  Falst. 
Where's he?  Wart. 
here sir.  Falst. 
Is thy name Wart?  Wart. 
Yea sir.  Fal. 
Thou art a very ragged Wart.  Shal. 
Shall I prick him down,  
Sir john?  Falst. 
It were superfluous: for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins: prick him no more.  Shal. 
Ha', ha', ha', you can do it sir: you can do it: I commend you well.  Francis Feeble. Feeble. 
here sir.  Shal. 
What Trade art thou Feeble?  Feeble. 
A Woman's Tailor sir.  Shal. 
Shall I prick him, sir?  Fal. 
You may: But if he had been a man's Tailor, he would have 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.  Falst. 
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.  Fal. 
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.  Falst. 
I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is the next?  Shal. 
Peter Bulcalfe of the Greene.  Falst. 
Yea marry, let us see Bulcalfe.  Bul. 
here sir.  Fal. 
Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come, prick me Bulcalfe till he roar again.  Bul. 
Oh, good my Lord Captain.  Fal. 
What? dost thou roar before th' art pricked.  Bul. 
Oh sir, I am a diseased man.  Fal. 
What disease hast thou?  Bul. 
A whoreson cold sir, a cough sir, which I caught with Ringing in the King's affairs, upon his Coronation day, sir.  Fal. 
Come, thou shalt go to the Wars in a Gown: we will have away thy Cold, and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is here all?  Shal. 
There 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.  Fal. 
Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you in good troth, Master Shallow.  Shal. 
O sir john, do you remember since we lay all night in the Windmill, in S George's Field.  Falstaff. 
No more of that good Master Shallow: No more of that.  Shal. 
Ha'? it was a merry night. And is jane Nightwork alive?  Fal. 
She life's, M. Shallow.  Shal. 
She never could away with me.  Fal. 
Never, never: she would always say she could not abide M. Shallow.  Shal. 
I could anger her to the heart: she was then a Bona-Roba. Doth she hold her own well.  Fal. 
Old, old, M. Shallow.  Shal. 
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.  Sil. 
That's fifty five years ago.  Shal. 
Ha, Cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that, that this Knight and I have seen: hah, Sir john, said I well?  Falst. 
We have heard the Chymes at midnight, Master Shallow.  Shal. 
That we have, that we have; in faith, Sir john, we have: our watchword was, Hem-Boyes. Come, let's to Dinner; come, let's to Dinner: Oh the days that we have seen. Come, come.  Bul. 
Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here is 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.  Bard. 
Go-to: stand aside.  Mould. 
And good Master Corporal Captain, for my old Dames sake, stand my friend: she hath no body to do any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, sir.  Bard. 
Go-to: stand aside.  Feeble. 
I care not, a man can die but once: we own a death. I will never bear a base mind: if it be my destiny, so: if it be not, so: no man is too good to serve his Prince: and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for the next.  Bard. 
Well said, thou art a good fellow.  Feeble. 
Nay, I will bear no base mind.  Falst. 
Come sir, which men shall I have?  Shal. 
Four of which you please.  Bard. 
Sir, a word with you: I have three pound, to free Mouldy and Bull-calfe.  Falst. 
Go-to: well.  Shal. 
Come, sir john, which four will you have?  Falst. 
Do you choose for me.  Shal. 
Marry then, Mouldy, Bull-calfe, Feeble, and Shadow.  Falst. 
Mouldy, and Bull-calfe: for you Mouldy, stay at home, till you are past service: and for your part, Bull-calfe, grow till you come unto it: I will none of you.  Shal. 
Sir john, Sir john, do not yourself wrong, they are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.  Falst. 
Will you tell me (Master Shallow) how to choose a man? Care I for the Limb, the Thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? give me the spirit (Master Shallow.) Where's Wart? you see what a ragged appearance it is: he 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 Calyver into Warts hand, Bardolph.  Bard. 
Hold Wart, Traverse: thus, thus, thus.  Falst. 
Come, manage me your Calyver: so▪ very well, go-to, very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chopped, bald Shot. Well said Wart, thou art a good Scab: hold, there is a Tester for thee.  Shal. 
He is not his Craftsmaster, he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay at Clement's Inn, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's Show: there was a little quiver fellow, and he would manage you his Piece thus: and he would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tah, would he say, Bounce would he say, and away again would he go, and again would he come: I shall never see such a fellow.  Falst. 
These fellows will do well, Master Shallow Farewell Master Silence, I will not use many words with you: far you well, gentlemans both: I thank you: I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, give the Soldier's Coats.  Shal. 
Sir john, Heaven bless you, and prosper your Affairs, and send us Peace. As you return, visit my house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure I will with you to the Court.  Falst. 
I would you would, Master Shallow.  Shal. 
Go-to: I have spoke at a word. Far you well.  Exit. Falst. 
Far you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, lead the men away. As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of justice Shallow. 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 Turnball-street, and every third word a Lie, duer paid to the hearer, than the Turks Tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn, like a man made after Supper, of a Cheese-paring. When he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked Radish, with a Head fantastically carved upon it with a Knife. He was so forlorn, that his Dimensions (to any thick sight) were invincible. He was the very Genius of Famine: he came ever in the rearward of the Fashion: And now is this Vice's Dagger become a Squire, and talks as familiarly of john of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn Brother to him: and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the Tiltyard, and then he burst his Head, for crowding among the Marshal's men. I saw it, and told john of Gaunt, he beat his own Name, for you might have trussed him and all his Apparel into an Eel-skin: the Case of a Triple Hoe-boy was a Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath he Land, and Beefs. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I return: and it shall go hard, but I will make him a Philosophers 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.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter the Archbishop, Mowbray, Hastings, Westmoreland, Colevile. Bish. 
What is this Forest called?  Hast. 
'Tis Gualtree Forrest, an't shall please your Grace.  Bish. 
Here stand (my Lords) and send discoverers forth,  
To know the numbers of our Enemies.  Hast. 
We have sent forth already.  Bish. 
'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, tenure, 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 over-live the hazard,  
And fearful meeting of their Opposite.  Mow. 
Thus do the hopes we have in him, touch ground,  
And dash themselves to pieces.  Enter a Messenger. Hast. 
Now? what news?  Mess. 
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.  Mow. 
The just proportion that we gave them out.  
Let us sway-on, and face them in the field.  Enter Westmoreland. Bish. 
What well-appointed Leader fronts us here?  Mow. 
I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.  West. 
Health, and fair greeting from our General,  
The Prince, Lord john, and Duke of Lancaster.  Bish. 
Say on (my Lord of Westmoreland) in peace:  
What doth concern your coming?  West. 
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 Rage,  
And countenanced by Boys, and Beggary:  
I say, if damned Commotion so appear,  
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 Sea is by a Civil Peace maintained,  
Whose Beard, the Silver Hand of Peace hath touched,  
Whose Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutored,  
Whose white Inuestments figure Innocence,  
The Dove, and very blessed Spirit of Peace.  
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself,  
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 loud Trumpet, and a Point of War.  Bish. 
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 a while like fearful War,  
To diet rank Minds, sick of happiness,  
And purge th' obstructions, which begin to stop  
Our very Veins of Life: hear me more plainly.  
I have in equal balance justly weighed,  
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 offered to the King,  
And might, by no Suit, gain our Audience:  
When we are wronged, 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.  West. 
When ever yet was your Appeal denied?  
Wherein have you been galled by the King?  
What Peer hath been suborned, to grate on you,  
That you should seal this lawless bloody Book  
Of forged Rebellion, with a Seal divine?  Bish. 
My Brother general, the Commonwealth,  
I make my Quarrel, in particular.  West. 
There is no need of any such redress:  
Or if there were, it not belongs to you.  Mow. 
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?  West. 
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 Seignories,  
Your Noble, and right well-remembred Fathers?  Mow. 
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 forced, perforce compelled to banish him:  
And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and he  
Being mounted, and both roused in their Seats,  
Their neighing Coursers daring of the Spur,  
Their armed Staffs in charge, their Beavers down,  
Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steel,  
And the loud Trumpet blowing them together:  
Then, then, when there was nothing could have stayed  
My Father from the Breast of Bullingbrooke;  
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 Bullingbrooke.  West. 
You speak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not what.  
The Earl of Hereford was reputed then  
In England the most valiant Gentleman.  
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 Herford, whom they doted on,  
And blessed, and graced, and did 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.  Mow. 
But he hath forced us to compel this Offer,  
And it proceeds from Policy, not Love..  West. 
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 hearts should be as good.  
Say you not then, our Offer is compelled.  Mow. 
Well, by my will, we shall admit no Parley.  West. 
That argues but the shame of your offence:  
A rotten Case abides no handling.  Hast. 
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?  West. 
That is intended in the General's Name:  
I muse you make so slight a Question.  Bish. 
Then take (my Lord of Westmoreland) this Schedule,  
For this contains our general Grievances:  
Each several Article herein redressed,  
All members of our Cause, both here, and hence,  
That are insinewed 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.  West. 
This will I show the General. Please you Lords,  
In sight of both our Battles, we may meet  
At either end in peace: which Heaven so frame,  
Or to the place of difference call the Swords,  
Which must decide it.  Bish. 
My Lord, we will do so.  Mow. 
There is a thing within my Bosom tells me,  
That no Conditions of our Peace can stand.  Hast. 
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.  Mow. 
I, 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 winnowed with so rough a wind,  
That even our Corn shall seem as light as Chaff,  
And good from bad find no partition.  Bish. 
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 mis-doubts present occasion:  
His foes are so enrooted with his friends,  
That plucking to unfixe 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 upreared to execution.  Hast. 
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 Fanglesse Lion  
May offer, but not hold.  Bish. 
'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.  Mow. 
Be it so:  
here is returned my Lord of Westmoreland.  Enter Westmoreland. West. 
The Prince is here at hand: pleaseth your Lordship  
To meet his Grace, just distance between our Armies?  Mow. 
Your Grace of York, in heaven's name then forward.  Bish. 
Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come.  Enter Prince john. john. 
You are well encountered 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 showed with you,  
When that your Flock (assembled by the Bell)  
Encircled you, to hear with reverence  
Your exposition on the holy Text,  
Then 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 abroach,  
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 Heaven?  
To us, the Speaker in his Parliament;  
To us, th' imagine Voice of Heaven itself:  
The very Opener, and Intelligencer,  
Between the Grace, the Sanctities of Heaven,  
And our dull workings. O, who shall believe,  
But you mis-use 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 taken up,  
Under the counterfeited Zeal of Heaven,  
The Subjects of Heaven's Substitute, my Father,  
And both against the Peace of Heaven, and him,  
Have here up-swarmed them.  Bish. 
Good my Lord of Lancaster,  
I am not here against your Father's Peace:  
But (as I told my Lord of Westmoreland)  
The Time (misordered) 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 should from the Court:  
Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of War is borne,  
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep,  
With grant of our most just and right desires;  
And true Obedience, of this Madness cured,  
Stoop tamely to the foot of Majesty.  Mow. 
If not, we ready are to try our fortunes,  
To the last man.  Hast. 
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 borne,  
And Heir from Heir shall hold this Quarrel up,  
Whiles England shall have generation.  john. 
You are too shallow (Hastings)  
Much too shallow,  
To sound the bottom of the aftertimes.  West. 
Pleaseth your Grace, to answer them directly,  
How farforth you do like their Articles.  john. 
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 redressed:  
Upon my Life, 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.  Bish. 
I take your Princely word, for these redresses.  john. 
I give it you, and will maintain my word:  
And thereupon I drink unto your Grace.  Hast. 
Go Captain, and deliver to the Army  
This news of Peace: let them have pay, and part:  
I know, it will well please them.  
High thee Captain.  Exit. Bish. 
To you▪ my Noble Lord of Westmoreland.  West. 
I pledge your Grace:  
And if you knew what pains I have bestowed,  
To breed this present Peace,  
You would drink freely: but my love to ye,  
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.  Bish. 
I do not doubt you.  West. 
I am glad of it.  
Health to my Lord, and gentle Cousin Mowbray.  Mow. 
You wish me health in very happy season,  
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.  Bish. 
Against ill Chances, men are ever merry,  
But heaviness foreruns the good event.  West. 
Therefore be merry (Cousin) since sudden sorrow  
Serves to say thus: some good thing comes to morrow.  Bish. 
Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.  Mow. 
So much the worse, if your own Rule be true.  john. 
The word of Peace is rendered: hark how they shout.  Mow. 
This had been cheerful, after Victory.  Bish. 
A Peace is of the nature of a Conquest:  
For then both parties nobly are subdued,  
And neither party loser.  john. 
Go (my Lord)  
And let our Army be discharged too:  
And good my Lord (so please you) let our Trains  
March by us, that we may peruse the men  Exit. 
We should have coped withal.  Bish. 
Go, good Lord Hastings:  
And ere they be dismissed, let them march by.  Exit. john. 
I trust (Lords) we shall lie to night together.  Enter Westmoreland. 
Now Cousin, wherefore stands our Army still?  West. 
The Leaders having charge from you to stand,  
Will not go off, until they hear you speak.  john. 
They know their duties.  Enter Hastings. Hast. 
Our Army is dispersed:  
Like youthful Steers, vnyoaked, they took their course  
East, West, North, South: or like a School, broke up,  
Each hurries towards his home, and sporting place.  West. 
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 Capital Treason, I attach you both.  Mow. 
Is this proceeding just, and honourable?  West. 
Is your Assembly so?  Bish. 
Will you thus break your faith?  john. 
I pawned 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,  
Fond brought here, and foolishly sent hence.  
Strike up our Drums, pursue the scattered stray,  
Heaven, and not we, have safely fought to day.  
Some guard these Traitors to the Block of Death,  
Treasons true Bed, and yeelder up of breath.  Exeunt. Enter Falstaff and Collevile. Falst. 
What's your Name, Sir? of what Condition are you? and of what place, I pray?  Col. 
I am a Knight, Sir:  
And my Name is Collevile of the Dale.  Falst. 
Well then, Collevile is your Name, a Knight is your Degree, and your Place, the Dale. Collevile shall still be your Name, a Traitor your Degree, and the Dungeon your Place, a place deep enough: so shall you be still Collevile of the Dale.  Col. 
Are not you Sir john Falstaff?  Falst. 
As good a man as he sir, who ere 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.  Col. 
I think you are Sir john Falstaff, & in that thought yield me.  Fal. 
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: and I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: my womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. here comes our General.  Enter Prince john, and Westmoreland. john. 
The hea● is past, follow no farther now:  
Call in the Powers good Cousin Westmoreland.  
Now Falstaff, where have you been all this while?  
When every thing is ended, than you come.  
These tardy Tricks of yours will (on my life)  
One time, or other, break some Gallows back.  Falst. 
I would be sorry (my Lord) but it should be thus: I never knew yet, but rebuke and check 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 sped hither with the very extremest inch of possibility. I have fowndred nine score and odd Posts: and here (travell-tainted as I am) have, in my pure and immaculate Valour, taken Sir john Collevile 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 hooke-nosed fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and over-came.  john. 
It was more of his Courtesy, than your deserving.  Falst. 
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 days deeds; or I swear, I will have it in a particular Ballad, with mine own Picture on the top of it (Collevile 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're-shine you as much as the Full Moon doth the Cinders of the Element (which show like Pinnes-heads to her) believe not the Word of the Noble: therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.  john. 
Thine's too heavy to mount.  Falst. 
Let it thine then.  john. 
Thine's too thick to shine.  Falst. 
Let it do something (my good Lord) that may do me good, and call it what you will.  john. 
Is thy Name Collevile?  Col. 
It is (my Lord.)  john. 
A famous Rebel art thou, Collevile.  Falst. 
And a famous true Subject took him.  Col. 
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.  Falst. 
I know not how they sold themselves, but thou like a kind fellow, gav'st thyself away; and I thank thee, for thee.  Enter Westmoreland. john. 
Have you left pursuit?  West. 
Retreat is made, and Execution stayed.  john. 
Send Collevile, with his Confederates,  
To York, to present Execution.  
Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.  Exit with Collevile. 
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.  Falst. 
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.  john. 
Far you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition,  
Shall better speak of you, than you deserve.  Exit. Falst. 
I would you had but the wit: 'twere better than your Dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded Boy doth no● love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh: but that's no marvel, he drinks no Wine. There's never any of these demure Boys come to any proof: for thin Drink doth so over-coole their blood, and making many Fish-Meales, 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 twofold operation in it: it ascends me into the Brain, dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and cruddie 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 extremes: it illuminateth 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 his 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 Hoord 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 tylled, 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 Principle I would teach them, should be to forswear thin Potations, and to addict themselves too Sack.  Enter Bardolph. 
How now Bardolph?  Bard. 
The Army is discharged all, and gone.  Falst. 
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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter King, Warwick, Clarence, Gloucester. King. 
Now Lords, if Heaven doth give successful end  
To this Debate that bleedeth at our doors,  
We will out Youth lead on to higher Fields,  
And draw no Swords, but what are sanctified.  
Our Navy is addressed, 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.  War. 
Both which we doubt not, but your Majesty  
Shall soon enjoy.  King. 
Humphrey (my Son of Gloucester) where is the Prince, your Brother?  Glo. 
I think he's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windsor.  King. 
And how accompanied?  Glo. 
I do not know (my Lord.)  King. 
Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?  Glo. 
No (my good Lord) he is in presence here.  Clar. 
What would my Lord, and Father?  King. 
Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.  
How chance thou art not with the Prince, thy Brother?  
He love's thee, and thou dost neglect him (Thomas.)  
Thou hast a better place in his Affection,  
Then all thy Brothers: cherish it (my Boy)  
And Noble Offices thou may'st 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 you 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.  Clar. 
I shall observe him with all care, and love.  King. 
Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Thomas?)  Clar. 
He is not there to day: he dines in London.  King. 
And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?  Clar. 
With Pointz, and other his continual followers.  King. 
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) th' 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;  
Oh, with what Wings shall his Affections fly  
Towards fronting Peril, and opposed Decay?  War. 
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 looked upon, and learned: which once attained,  
Your Highness knows, comes to no farther 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 mere the lives of others,  
Turning past-evills to advantages.  King. 
'Tis seldom, when the Bee doth leave her Comb  
In the dead Carrion.  Enter Westmoreland. 
Who's here? Westmoreland?  West. 
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 Rebels Sword unsheathed,  
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. 
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.  Harc. 
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 Bardolfe,  
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. 
And wherefore should these good news  
Make me sick?  
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,  
But writ 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.  Glo. 
Comfort your Majesty.  Cla. 
Oh, my Royal Father.  West. 
My Sovereign Lord, cheer up yourself, look up.  War. 
Be patiented (Princes) you do know, these Fits  
Are with his Highness very ordinary▪  
Stand from him, give him air:  
he'll strait be well.  Clar. 
No, no, he cannot long hold out: these pangs,  
Th' 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.  Glo. 
The people fear me: for they do observe  
Vnfathered Heirs, and loathly Births of Nature:  
The Seasons change their manners, as the Year  
Had found some Months asleep, and leaped them over.  Clar. 
The River hath thrice flowed, no ebb between:  
And the old folk (Times doting Chronicles)  
Say it did so, a little time before  
That our great Grand-fire Edward sicked, and died.  War. 
Speak lower (Princes) for the King recovers.  Glo. 
This Apoplexy will (certain) be his end.  King. 
I pray you take me up, and bear me hence  
Into some other Chamber: softly ' pray.  
Let there be no noise made (my gentle friends)  
Unless some dull and favourable hand  
Will whisper Music to my weary Spirit.  War. 
Ca● for the Music in the other Room.  King. 
Set me the Crown upon my Pillow here.  Clar. 
His eye is hollow, and he changes much.  War. 
Less noise, less noise.  Enter Prince Henry. P. Hen. 
Who saw the Duke of Clarence?  Clar. 
I am here (Brother) full of heaviness.  P. Hen. 
How now? Rain within doors, and none abroad? How doth the King?  Glo. 
Exceeding ill.  P. Hen. 
Herd he the good news yet?  
Tell it him.  Glo. 
He altered much, upon the hearing it.  P. Hen. 
If he be sick with joy,  
he'll recover without Physic.  War. 
Not so much noise (my Lords)  
Sweet Prince speak low.  
The King, your Father, is disposed to sleep.  Clar. 
Let us withdraw into the other Room.  War. 
Wil't please your Grace to go along with us?  P. Hen. 
No: I will sit, and watch here, by the King.  
Why doth the Crown lie there, upon his Pillow,  
Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow?  
O polished 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 halt so deeply sweet,  
As he whose Brow (with homely Biggin 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 scaldest with safety: by his Gates of breath,  
There lies a dowlney feather, which stirs not:  
Did he suspit●, that light and weightless dowlne  
Perforce must move. My gracious Lord, my Father,  
This sleep is sound indeed: this is a sleep,  
That from this Golden Rigoll 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 from thy Place, and Blood)  
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,  
Which Heaven 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. Enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence. King. 
Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence.  Clar. 
Doth the King call?  War. 
What would your Majesty? how fares your Grace?  King. 
Why did you leave me here alone (my Lords?)  Cla. 
We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)  
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.  King. 
The Prince of Wales? where is he? let me see him.  War. 
This door is open, he is gone this way.  Glo. 
He came not through the Chamber where we stayed.  King. 
Where is the Crown? who took it from my Pillow?  War. 
When we withdrew (my Liege) we left it here.  King. 
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: this part of his conjoines  
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 sleeps with thoughts,  
Their brains with care, their bones with industry.  
For this, they have engrossed and piled up  
The cankered heaps of strange-atchieved 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 packed, with Wax,  
Our Mouths with Honey, we bring it to the Hive;  
And like the Bees, are murdered for our pains.  
This bitter taste yields his engrossements,  
To the ending Father.  Enter Warwick. 
Now, where is he, that will not stay so long,  
Till his Friend Sickness hath determined me?  War. 
My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Room,  
Washing with kindly Tears his gentle Cheeks,  
With such a deep demeanour, in great sorrow,  
That Tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,  
Would (by beholding him) have washed his Knife  
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.  King. 
But wherefore did he take away the Crown?  Enter Prince Henry. 
Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me (Harry.)  
Depart the Chamber, leave us here alone.  Exit. P. Hen. 
I never thought to hear you speak again.  King. 
Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought:  
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.  
Dost thou so hunger for my empty Chair,  
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine Honours,  
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish Youth!  
Thou seekest the Greatness, that will overwhelm 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 sealed up my expectation.  
Thy Life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not,  
And thou wilt have me dye 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 thy care  
That thou art Crowned, not that I am dead.  
Let all the Tears, that should be due 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.  
Henry the fift is Crowned: Up Vanity,  
Down Royal State: All you sage Counsellors, hence:  
And to the English Court, assemble now  
From every Region, Apes of Idleness.  
Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum:  
Have you a Ruffian that swill 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 gilled, His treble guilt.  
England, shall give him Office, Honour, Might:  
For the Fift Harry, from curbed Licence plucks  
The muzzle of Restraint; and the wild Dog  
Shall flesh his tooth in 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. 
O pardon me (my Liege)  
But for my Tears,  
The most Impediments unto my Speech,  
I had forestalled this dear, and deep Rebuke,  
Ere you (with grief) had spoke, and I had heard  
The course of it so fare. There is your Crown,  
And he that wears the Crown immortally,  
Long guard it yours. If I affect it more,  
Then as your Honour, and as your Renown,  
Let me no more from this Obedience rise,  
Which my most true, and inward duteous Spirit  
Teacheth this prostrate, and exterior bending.  
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in,  
And found no course of breath within your Majesty,  
How cold it strooke my heart. If I do fain,  
O let me, in my present wildness, die,  
And never live, to show th' 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 spoke unto the 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 Char●act, is more precious,  
Preserving life, in Medicine potable:  
But thou, most Fine, most Honoured, most Renowned,  
Hast eat the Bearer up.  
Thus (my Royal Liege)  
Accusing it, I put it on my Head,  
To try with it (as with an Enemy,  
That had before my face murdered 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 heaven, 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. 
O my Son!  
Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence,  
That thou mightst join the more, thy Father's love,  
Pleading so wisely, in excuse of it.  
Come hither Harrie, sit thou by my bed,  
And hear (I think, the very latest Counsel  
That ever I shall breathe: Heaven knows, my Son)  
By what bypaths, and indirect crook'd-wayes  
I met this Crown: and I myself know well  
How troublesome it sat upon my head.  
To thee, it shall descend with better Quiet,  
Better Opinion, better Confirmation:  
For all the soil of the Achievement goes  
With me, into the Earth. It seemed in me,  
But as an Honour snatched 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 seest (with peril) I have answered:  
For all my Reign, hath been but as a Scene  
Acting that argument. And now my death  
Changes the Mood: For what in me, was purchased,  
Falls upon thee, in a more Fairer sort.  
So thou, the Garland wear'st successively.  
Yet, though thou standest more sure, than I could do,  
Thou artnot firm enough, since griefs are green:  
And all thy Friends, which thou must make thy Friends  
Have but their stings, and teeth, newly taken 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 Harrie)  
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 heaven forgive:  
And grant it may, with thee, in true peace live.  Prince. 
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, then with a Common pain,  
'Gainst all the World, will rightfully maintain.  Enter Lord john of Lancaster, and Warwick. King. 
Look, look,  
here comes my john of Lancaster:  john. 
Health, Peace, and Happiness,  
To my Royal Father.  King. 
Thou bring'st me happiness and Peace (Son john:  
But health (alack) with youthful wings is flown  
From this bare; withered Trunk, Upon thy sight  
My worldly business makes a period.  
Where is my Lord of Warwick?  〈◊〉. 
My Lord of Warwick.  King. 
Doth any name particular, belong 〈◊〉 ●he Lodging, where I first did swooned?  ●r. 
'Tis called jerusalem, my Noble Lord.  ●i●g. 
Laud be to heaven:  
Eu● there my life must end.  
It hath been prophesi'de to me many years,  
I should not dye, 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 dye.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaff, Bardolfe, Page, and Davie. Shal. 
By Cock and Pie, you shall not away to night.  
What Davy, I say.  Fal. 
You must excuse me, M. Robert Shallow.  Shal. 
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 Davie.  Davie. 
here sir.  Shal. 
Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see (Davy) let me see: 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 head-land with Wheat?  Shal. 
With red Wheat Davy. But for William Cook: are there no young Pigeons?  Davy. 
Yes Sir.  
here is now the Smiths note, for Shooing,  
And Plough-Irons.  Shal. 
Let it be cast, and paid: Sir john, you shall not be excused.  Davy. 
Sir, a new link to the Bucket must needs 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?  Shal. 
He shall answer it:  
Some Pigeon Davy, a couple of short-legged Hens: a joint of Mutton and any pretty little tine Kickshaws, tell William Cook.  Davy. 
Doth the man of War, stay all night sir?  Shal. 
Yes Davy:  
I will use him well. A Friend i' th' Court, is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well Davy, for they are arrant Knaves, and will backebite.  Davy. 
No worse than they are bitten. sir: For, they have marvelous fowl linen.  Shallow. 
Well conceited Davy: about thy Business, Davy.  Davy. 
I beseech you sir,  
To countenance William Visor of Woncote, against Clement Perkes of the hill.  Shal. 
There are 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 heaven forbidden 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, these 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.  Shal. 
Go too,  
I say he shall have no wrong: Look about Davy.  
Where are you Sir john? Come, off with your Boots.  
Give me your hand M. Bardolfe.  Bard. 
I am glad to see your Worship.  Shal. 
I thank thee, with all my heart, kind Master  
Bardolfe: and welcome my tall Fellow:  
Come Sir john.  Falstaff. 
I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. Bardolfe, look to our Horses. If I were saw'de into Quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded Hermit's staffs, as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable Cohetence 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 Servingman. 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 device 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 he shall laugh with Interuallums. O it is much that a Lie (with a flight Oath) and a jest (with ● 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.  Shal. 
Sir john.  Falst. 
I come Master Shallow, I come Master Shallow.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter the Earl of Warwick, and the Lord Chief justice. Warwick. 
How now, my Lord Chief justice, whether away?  Ch. Just. 
How doth the King?  Warw. 
Exceeding well: his Cares  
Are now, all ended.  Ch. Just. 
I hope, not dead.  Warw. 
he's walked the way of Nature,  
And to our purposes, he life's no more.  Ch. Just. 
I would his Majesty had called me with him,  
The service, that I truly did his life,  
Hath left me open to all injuries.  War. 
Indeed I think the young King love's you not.  Ch. Just. 
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 john of Lancaster, Gloucester, and Clarence. War. 
here come the heavy Issue of dead Harrie:  
O, that the living Harrie 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 vild sort?  Ch. Just. 
Alas, I fear, all will be overturned.  john. 
Good morrow Cousin Warwick, good morrow.  Glou. 
Cla. Good morrow, Cousin.  john. 
We meet, like men, that had forgot to speak.  War. 
We do remember: but our Argument  
Is all too heavy, to admit much talk.  joh. 
Well: Peace be with him, that hath made us heavy  Ch. Justiniano. 
Peace be with us, lest we be heavier.  Glou. 
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.  john. 
Though no man be assured what grace to find,  
You stand in coldest expectation.  
I am the sorrier, would 'twere otherwise.  Cla. 
Well, you must now speak Sir john Falstaff fair,  
Which swims against your stream of Quality.  Ch. Just. 
Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honour,  
Led by th' Imperial Conduct of my Soul,  
And never shall you see, that I will beg  
A ragged, and forestalled Remission.  
If Troth, and upright Innocency fail me,  
I'll to the King (my Master) that is dead,  
And tell him, who hath sent me after him.  War. 
here comes the Prince.  Enter Prince Henry. Ch. Just. 
Good morrow: and heaven save your Majesty  Prince. 
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 Amurah, an Amurah succeeds,  
But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad (good Brothers)  
For (to speak truth) 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)  
Then 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;  
But weep that Horrie's dead, and so will I.  
But Harry life's, that shall convert those Tears  
By number, into hours of Happiness.  john, etc. 
We hope no other from your Majesty.  Prin. 
You all look strangely on me: and you most,  
You are (I think) assured, I love you not.  Ch. Just. 
I am assured (if I be measured rightly)  
Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me.  Pr. 
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  
Th' immediate Heir of England? Was this easy?  
May this be washed in Lethe, and forgotten?  Ch. Just. 
I than did use the Person of your Father;  
The Image of his power, lay then in me,  
And in th' 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 strooke me in my very Seat of judgement▪  
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 naught?  
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 disdained▪  
And then imagine me, taking you 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.  Prin. 
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 no 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,  
Th' 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 Spirits, sadly I survive,  
To mock the expectation of the World;  
To frustrate Prophecies, and to race out  
Rotten Opinion, who hath writ me down  
After my seeming. The Tide of Blood in me,  
Hath proudly flowed 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 governed 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 remembered) all our State,  
And heaven (consigning to my good intents)  
No Prince, nor Peer, shall have just cause to say,  
Heaven shorten Harry's happy life, one day.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe, Page, and Pistol. Shall 
Nay, you shall see mine 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.  Fal. 
You have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich.  Shal. 
Barren, barren, barren: Beggars all, beggars all Sir john: Marry, good air. Spread Davy, spread Davie: Well said Davie.  Falst. 
This Davie serves you for good uses: he is your Servingman, and your Husband.  Shall 
A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Varlet, Sir john: I have drunk too much Sack at Supper. A good Varlet. Now sit down, now sit down: Come Cousin.  Sil. 
Ah sirrah (quotha) we shall do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, and praise heaven for the merry year: when flesh is cheap, and Females dear, and lusty Lads room here, and there: so merrily, and ever among so merrily.  Fal. 
There's a merry heart, good M. Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon.  Shal. 
Good M. Bardolfe: some wine, Davie.  Da. 
Sweet sir, sit: I'll be with you anon: most sweet sir, sit. Master Page, good M. Page, sit: Proface. What you want in meat, we'll have in drink: but you bear, the heart's all.  Shal. 
Be merry M. Bardolfe, and my little Soldier there, be merry.  Sil. 
Be merry, be merry, my wife has all.  
For women are Shrews, both short, and tall:  
'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wag all;  
And welcome merry Shrovetide. Be merry, be merry.  Fal. 
I did not think M. Silence had been a man of this Mettle.  Sil. 
Who I? I have been merry twice and once, ere now.  Davy. 
There is a dish of Lether-coats for you.  Shal. 
Davie.  Dau. 
Your Worship: I'll be with you strait. A cup of Wine, sir?  Sil. 
A Cup of Wine, that's brisk and fine, & drink unto the Leman mine: and a merry heart life's long.  Fal. 
Well said, M. Silence.  Sil. 
If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet of the night.  Fal. 
Health, and long life to you, M. Silence.  Sil. 
Fill the Cup, and let it come. I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.  Shal. 
Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my little tyne thief, and welcome indeed too: I'll drink to M. Bardolfe, and to all the Cavileroes about London.  Dau. 
I hope to see London, once ere I die.  Bar. 
If I might see you there, Davie.  Shal. 
You'll crack a quart together? Ha', will you not M. Bardolfe?  Bar. 
Yes Sir, in a pottle pot.  Shal. 
I thank thee: the knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred.  Bar. 
And I'll stick by him, sir.  Shal. 
Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.  
Look, who's at door there, ho: who knocks?  Fal 
Why now you have done me right.  Sil. 
Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't not so?  Fal. 
'Tis so.  Sil. 
Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somewhat.  Dau. 
If it please your Worship, there's one Pistol come from the Court with news.  Fal. 
From the Court? Let him come in.  Enter Pistol. 
How now Pistol?  Pissed. 
Sir john, ' save you sir.  Fal. 
What wind blew you hither, Pistol?  Pissed. 
Not the ill wind which blows none to good, sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in the Realm.  Sil. 
Indeed, I think he be, but Goodman Puff of Barson.  Pist. 
Puff? puff in thy teeth, most recreant Coward base. Sir john, I am thy Pistol, and thy Friend: helter skelter have I road to thee, and tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, and golden Times, and happy News of price.  Fal. 
I prithee now deliver them, like a man of this World.  Pissed. 
A foutra for the World, and Worldlings base,  
I speak of Africa, and Golden joys.  Fal. 
O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy news?  
Let King Covitha know the truth thereof.  Sil. 
And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and john.  Pissed. 
Shall dunghill Curs confront the Hellicons?  
And shall good news be baffled?  
Then Pistol lay thy head in Furies lap.  Shal. 
Honest Gentleman,  
I know not your breeding.  Pissed. 
Why then Lament therefore.  Shal. 
Give me pardon, Sir.  
If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there is but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am Sir, under the King, in some Authority.  Pissed. 
Under which King?  
Bezonian, speak, or dye.  Shal. 
Under King Harry.  Pissed. 
Harry the Fourth? or Fift?  Shal. 
Harry the Fourth.  Pissed. 
A foutra for thine Office.  
Sir john, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King.  
Harry the Fift's the man, I speak the truth.  
When Pistol lies, do this, and figge-me, like  
The bragging Spaniard.  Fal. 
What, is the old King dead?  Pissed. 
As nail in door.  
The things I speak, are just.  Fal. 
Away Bardolfe, Saddle my Horse,  
Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wilt  
In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee  
With Dignities.  Bard. 
O joyful day:  
I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune.  Pissed. 
What? I do bring good news.  Fal. 
Carry Master Silence to bed: Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortune's Steward. Get on thy Boots, we I ride all night. Oh sweet Pistol: Away Bardolfe: Come Pistol, utter more to me: and withal device something to do thyself good. Boot, boot Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man's Horsfes: The Laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they, which have been my Friends: and woe unto my Lord Chief justice.  Pissed. 
Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also:  
Where is the life that late I led, say they?  
Why here it is, welcome those pleasant days.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Hostess Quickly, Dol Teare-sheete, and Beadles. Hostess. 
No, thou arrant knave: I would I might die, that I might have thee hanged: Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.  Off. 
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.  Dol. 
Nut-hook, nut-hook, you Lie: Come on, I'll tell thee what, thou damned Tripe-visaged Rascal, if the Child I now go with, do miscarry, thou hadst better thou hadst strooke thy Mother, thou Paper-faced Villain.  Host. 
O that Sir john were come, he would make this a bloody day to some body. But I would the Fruit of her Womb might miscarry.  Officer. 
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 among you.  Dol. 
I'll tell thee what, thou thin man in a Censor; I will have you as sound swindged for this, you blew-botteled Rogue: you filthy famished Correctioner, if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half Kirtles.  Off. 
Come, come, you shee-Knight-arrant, come.  Host. 
O, that right should thus o'ercome might. Well of sufferance, comes ease.  Dol. 
Come you Rogue, come:  
Bring me to a justice.  Host. 
Yes, come you starved Bloodhound.  Dol. 
Goodman death, goodman Bones.  Host. 
Thou Anatomy, thou.  Dol. 
Come you thin Thing:  
Come you Rascal.  Off. 
Very well.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter two Grooms. 1. Groo. 
More Rushes, more Rushes.  2. Groo. 
The Trumpets have sounded twice.  1. Groo. 
It will be two of the Clock, ere they come from the Coronation.  Exit Groo. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolfe, and Page. Falstaff. 
Stand here by me, M. Robert Shallow, I will make the King do you Grace. I will leer upon him, as he comes by: and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.  Pistol. 
Bless thy Lungs, good Knight.  Falst. 
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 it is no matter, this poor show doth better: this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.  Shal. 
It doth so.  Falst. 
It shows my earnestness in affection.  Pissed. 
It doth so.  Fal. 
My devotion.  Pissed. 
It doth, it doth, it doth.  Fal. 
As it were, to ride day and night,  
And not to deliberate, not to remember,  
Not to have patience to shift me.  Shal. 
It is most certain,  Fal. 
But to stand stained with Travail, and sweeting with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done, but to see him.  Pissed. 
'Tis semper idem: for obsque hoc nihil est. 'Tis all in every part.  Shal. 
'Tis so indeed.  Pissed. 
My Knight, I will inflame thy Noble Liver, and make thee rage. Thy Dol, and Helen of thy noble thoughts is in base Durance, and contagious prison: Halled thither by most Mechanical and dirty hand. Rouse up Revenge from Ebon den, with fell Alecto's Snake, for Dol is in. Pistol, speaks nought but troth.  Fal. 
I will deliver her.  Pistol. 
There roared the Sea: and Trumpet Clangour sounds.  The Trumpet's sound. Enter King Henry the Fift, Brothers, Lord Chief justice. Falst. 
Save thy Grace, King Hall, my Royal Hall.  Pissed. 
The heavens thee guard, and keep, most royal Imp of Fame.  Fal. 
'Saue thee my sweet Boy.  King. 
My Lord Chief justice, speak to that vain man.  Ch. Just. 
Have you your wits?  
Know you what 'tis you speak?  Falst. 
My King, my jove; I speak to thee, my heart.  King. 
I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy Prayers:  
How ill white hairs become a Fool, and jester?  
I have long dreamed of such a kind of man,  
So surfeit-swelled, so old, and so profane:  
But being awake, I do despise my dream.  
Make less thy body (hence) and more thy Grace,  
Leave gourmandizing; Know the Grave doth gape  
For thee, thrice wider then for other men.  
Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne jest,  
Presume not, that I am the thing I was,  
For heaven doth know (so shall the world perceive)  
That I have turned 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 was't  
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 strength, and qualities,  
Give you advancement. Be it your charge (my Lord)  
To see performed the tenure of our word. Set on.  Exit King. Fal. 
Master Shallow, I own you a thousand pound.  Shal. 
I marry Sir john, which I beseech you to let me have home with me.  Fal. 
That can hardly be, M. 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 advancement: I will be the man yet, that shall make you great.  Shal. 
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.  Fal. 
Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard, was but a colour.  Shall. 
A colour I fear, that you will dye, in Sir john.  Fal. 
Fear no colours, go with me to dinner:  
Come Lieutenant Pistol, come Bardolfe,  
I shall be sent for soon at night.  Ch. Just. 
Go carry Sir john Falstaff to the Fleet,  
Take all his Company along with him.  Fal. 
My Lord, my Lord.  Ch. Just. 
I cannot now speak, I will hear you soon:  
Take them away.  Pissed. 
Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento.  Exit. Manet Lancaster and Chief justice. john. 
I like this fair proceeding of the Kings:  
He hath intent his wont Followers  
Shall all be very well provided for:  
But all are banished, till their conversations  
Appear more wise, and modest to the world.  Ch. Just. 
And so they are.  john. 
The King hath called his Parliament,  
My Lord.  Ch. Just. 
He hath.  john. 
I will lay odds, that ere this year expire,  
We bear our Civil Swords, and Native fire  
As fare as France. I hear a Bird so sing,  
Whose Music (to my thinking) pleased the King.  
Come, will you hence?  Exeunt  
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE.  
FIRST, my Fear: then, my Curtsy: last, my Speech. My Fear, is your Displeasure: My Curtsy, 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 did mean (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 will I. All the Gentlewomen here, have forgiven me, if the Gentlemen will not, than the Gentlemen do not agree with the Gentlewowen, 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 Katherine of France: where (for any thing I know) Falstaff shall dye of a sweat, unless already he 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.   

THE ACTORS NAMES.  

RUMOR the Presenter.  
King Henry the Fourth.  
Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henry the Fift.  
Prince john of Lancaster.  
Humphrey of Gloucester.  
Thomas of Clarence.  
Sons to Henry the Fourth, & brethren to Henry 5.   

Northumberland.  
The Arch Bishop of York.  
Mowbray.  
Hastings.  
Lord Bardolfe.  
Travers.  
Morton.  
Colevile.  
Opposites against King Henry the Fourth.   

Warwick.  
Westmoreland.  
Surrey.  
Gowre.  
Harecourt.  
Lord Chief justice.  
Of the King's Party.   

Pointz.  
Falstaff.  
Bardolphe.  
Pistol.  
Peto.  
Page.  
Irregular Humorists.   

Shallow.  
Silence.  
Both Country justices.   

Davie, Servant to Shallow.  
Phang, and Snare, 2. Sericants   

Mouldy.  
Shadow.  
Wait.  
Feeble.  
Bullcalfe.  
Country Soldier's   

Drawer's  
Beadles.  
Groomes   

Northumberlands Wife.  
Percies Widow.  
Hostess Quickly.  
Doll Teare-sheete.  
Epilogue.     

The Life of Henry the Fift.  

Enter Prologue.  
O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascend  
The brightest Heaven of Invention:  
A Kingdom for a Stage, Princes to Act,  
And Monarches to behold the swelling Scene.  
Then should the Warlike Harry, like himself,  
Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heels  
(Leashed in, like Hounds) should Famine, Sword, and Fire  
Crouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all:  
The flat unraysed Spirits, that hath 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 Casks  
That did affright the Air at Agincourt?  
O pardon: since a crocked Figure may  
Attest in little place a Million,  
And let us, Ciphers to this great Account,  
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 one Man,  
And make imaginary Puissance.  
Think when we talk of Horses, that you see them,  
Printing their proud Hoofs i' th' receiving Earth:  
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our Kings,  
Carry them here and there: jumping o'er Times;  
Turning th' accomplishment of many years  
Into an Hourglass: 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.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely. Bish. Cant. 
MY Lord, I'll tell you, that self Bill is urged,  
Which in th' eleventh year of the last King's reign  
Was like, and had indeed against us past,  
But that the scambling and unquiet time  
Did push it out of farther question.  Bish. Ely. 
But how my Lord shall we resist is now?  Bish. Cant. 
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 th' year. Thus runs the Bill.  Bish. Ely. 
This would drink deep.  Bish. Cant. 
'Twould drink the Cup and all.  Bish. Ely. 
But what prevention?  Bish. Cant. 
The King is full of grace, and fair regard.  Bish. Ely. 
And a true lover of the holy Church.  Bish. Cant. 
The courses of his youth promised it not.  
The breath no sooner left his Father's body,  
But that his wildness, mortified in him,  
Seemed to dye too: yea, at that very moment,  
Consideration like an Angel came,  
And whipped th' offending Adam out of him;  
Leaving his body as a Paradise,  
T' invelop 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.  Bish. Ely: 
We are blessed in the Change.  Bish. Cant. 
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 rendered 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 Chartered Libertine, is still,  
And the mute Wonder lurketh in men's ears,  
To steal his sweet and honeyed 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 Course, vain,  
His Companies unlettered, rude, and shallow,  
His Hours filled up with Riots Banquets, Sports;  
And never noted in him any study,  
Any retirement, any sequestration,  
From open Haunts and Popularity.  B. Ely. 
The Strawberry grows underneath the Nettle,  
And wholesome Berries thrive and ripen best,  
Neighboured by Fruit of base 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 cressive in his faculty.  B. Cant. 
It must be so: for Miracles are ceased:  
And therefore we must needs admit the means,  
How things are perfected.  B. Ely. 
But my good Lord:  
How now for mitigation of this Bill,  
Urged by the Commons? doth his Majesty  
Incline to it, or no?  B. Cant. 
He seems indifferent:  
Or rather swaying more upon our part,  
Then cherishing th' 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 opened to his Grace at large,  
As touching France, to give a greater Sum,  
Then ever at one time the Clergy yet  
Did to his Predecessors part withal.  B. Ely. 
How did this offer seem received, my Lord?  B. Cant. 
With good acceptance of his Majesty:  
Save that there was not time enough to hear,  
As I perceived his Grace would sane have done,  
The severals and unhidden passage:  
Of his true Titles to some certain Dukedoms,  
And generally, to the Crown and Seat of France,  
Derived from Edward his great Grandfather.  B. Ely. 
What was th' impediment that broke this off?  B. Cant. 
The French Ambassador upon that instant  
Craved audience; and the hour I think is come,  
To give him hearing: Is it four a Clock?  B. Ely. 
It is.  B. Cant. 
Then go we in, to know his Embassy:  
Which I could with a ready guests declare,  
Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.  B. Ely. 
I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it.  Exeunt. Enter the King▪ Humphrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick, Westmoreland, and Exeter. King. 
Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?  Exeter. 
Not here in presence.  King. 
Send for him, good Uncle.  ●m. 
Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege?  K. 
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 two Bishops. B. Cant. 
God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne,  
And make you long become it.  King. 
Sure we thank you.  
My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,  
And justly and religiously unfold,  
Why the Law Salic, that they have in France,  
Or should or should not bar us in our Claim:  
And God forbidden, my dear and faithful Lord,  
That you should fashion, wrist, 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 impawne 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 wrongs gives edge unto the Swords,  
That makes 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 washed,  
As pure as sin with Baptism.  B. Can. 
Then hear me gracious Sovereign, & you Peers,  
That own 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 Pharamont,  
Interram Salicam Mulieres ne succedaul,  
No Woman shall succeed in Salic Land:  
Which Salic Land, the French unjustly gloze  
To be the Realm of France, and Pharamont  
The ●nder of this Law, and Female Bar.  
Yet their own Authors faithfully affirm,  
That the Land Salic is in Germany,  
Between the Clouds of Sala and of Ell:  
Where Charles the Great having subdued the Saxons,  
There left behind and settled certain French:  
Who holding in disdain the Germane Women,  
For some dishonest manners of their life,  
Established then this Law; to wit, No Female  
Should be Inheritrix in Salic Land:  
Which Salic (as I said) 'twixt Ell and Sala,  
Is at this day in Germany, called Meisen.  
Then doth it well appear, the Salic Law  
Was not devised for the Realm of France:  
Nor did the French possess the Salic, Land,  
Until four hundred one and twenty years  
After defunction of King Pharamont,  
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 Childerike,  
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,  
Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught,  
Conveyed himself as th' Heir to th' Lady Lingare,  
Daughter to Charlemagne, who was the Son  
To jews the Emperor, and jews the Son  
Of Charles the Great: also King jews the Tenth,  
Who was sole Heir to the Usurper Capet,  
Can 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 reunited to the Crown of France.  
So, that as clear as is the Summer's Sun,  
King Pippins Title, and Hugh Capets' Claim,  
King jews 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 Salic Law,  
To bar your Highness claiming from the Female,  
And rather choose to hide them in a Net,  
Then amply to imbar their crooked Titles,  
Usurped from you and your Progenitors.  King. 
May I with right and conscience make this claim?  Bish. Cant. 
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 Uncles, Edward the Black Prince,  
Who on the French ground played 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.  Bish. 
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-Morne of his Youth,  
Ripe for Exploits and mighty Enterprises.  Exe. 
Your Brother Kings and Monarches of the Earth  
Do all expect, that you should rouse yourself,  
As did the former Lions of your Blood.  West. 
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 pauillioned in the fields of France.  Bish. Can. 
O let their bodies follow my dear Liege  
With Bloods, 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. 
We must not only arm t' invade the French,  
But lay down our proportions, to defend  
Against the Scot, who will make road upon us,  
With all advantages.  Bish. Can. 
They of those Marches, gracious Sovereign,  
Shall be a Wall sufficient to defend  
Our inland from the pilfering Borderers.  King. 
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 unfurnished Kingdom,  
Came pouring like the Tide into a breach,  
With ample and brim fullness of his force,  
Galling the gleaned Land with hot Assays,  
Girding with grievous siege, Castles and Towns:  
That England being empty of defence,  
Hath shaken and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.  B. Can. 
She hath been them more feared than harmed, 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 their Chronicle as rich with praise,  
As is the Owse and bottom of the Sea  
With sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries.  Bish. Ely. 
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 tame and havoc more than she can eat.  Exet. 
It follows then, the Cat must stay at home,  
Yet that is but a crushed necessity,  
Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries,  
And pretty traps to catch the petty thiefs.  
While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad,  
Th' 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.  Cant. 
Therefore doth heaven divide  
The state of man in diverse 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 Merchant's venture Trade abroad;  
Others, like Soldiers armed in their stings,  
Make boot upon the Summer, Velvet buds:  
Which pillage, they with merry march bring home  
To the Tent-royal of their Emperor:  
Who busied in his Majesty's 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 over 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 Lynes close in the Dial's centre:  
So may a thousand actions once a foot,  
And 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. 
Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin.  
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,  
Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedoms)  
Or lay these bones in an unworthy Urn,  
Tomblesse, 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 worshipped with a waxed Epitaph.  Enter Ambassadors of France. 
Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure  
Of our fair Cousin Dolphin: for we hear,  
Your greeting is from him, not from the King.  Amb. 
May't please your Majesty to give us leave  
Freely to render what we have in charge:  
Or shall we sparingly show you fare off  
The Dolphin's meaning, and our Embassy.  King. 
We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King,  
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject  
As is our wretches fettered in our prisons,  
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness,  
Tell us the Dolphin's mind.  Amb. 
Thus than 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 Dolphin speaks.  King. 
What Treasure Uncle?  Exe. 
Tennis balls, my Liege.  Kin, 
We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with us,  
His Present, and your pains we thank you for:  
When we have matched 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 disturbed  
With Chases. 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 Dolphin, 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 Dolphin blind to look on us,  
And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mock of his  
Hath turned 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 Dolphin's scorn.  
But this lies all within the will of God,  
To whom I do appeal, and in whose name  
Tell you the Dolphin, I am coming on,  
To venge me as I may, and to put forth  
My rightful hand in a wel-hallowed cause.  
So get you hence in peace: And tell the Dolphin.  
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,  
When thousands weep more than did laugh at it,  
Convey them with safe conduct. Far you well.  Exeunt Ambassadors. Exe. 
This was a merry Message.  King. 
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 Dolphin at his father's door.  
Therefore let every man now task his thought,  
That this fair Action may on foot be brought.  Exeunt. Flourish. Enter 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)  
Confirmed Conspiracy with fearful France,  
And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye.  
If Hell and Treason hold their promises,  
Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton.  
Linger your patience on, and we'll digest  
Th' 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 Enter Corporal Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe. Bar. 
Well met Corporal Nym.  Nym. 
Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe.  Bar. 
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.  Bar. 
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France: Leted 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.  Bar. 
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 name, yet she will plod, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot tell.  Enter Pistol, & Quickly. Bar. 
here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife: good Corporal be patiented here. How now mine Host Pistol?  Pissed. 
Base Tike, callest thou me Host, now by this hand I swear I scorn the term: nor shall my Nell keep Lodgers.  Host. 
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 strait. O welladay Lady, if he be not hewed now, we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.  Bar. 
Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing here.  Nym. 
Pish.  Pissed. 
Pish for thee, Island dog: thou prick-eared cur of Island.  Host. 
Good Corporal Nym show thy valour, and put up your sword.  Nym. 
Will you shogge off? I would have you solus.  Pissed. 
Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus in thy most marvellous face, the solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, and in thy hateful Lungs, yea in thy Maw perdie; and which is worse, within thy nasty mouth. I do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pistols 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 fowl 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.  Pissed. 
O Braggart vile, and damned furious wight,  
The Grave doth gape, and doting death is near,  
Therefore exhale.  Bar. 
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.  Pissed. 
An oath of much might, and fury shall abate.  
Give me thy fist, thy forefoote 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 defy thee again. O hound of Crete, thinkest thou my spouse to get? No, to the spittle go, and from the Powdering tub of infamy, fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressida's kind, Doll Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I have, and I will hold the Quondam Quickly for the only she: and Pauca, there's enough to go to.  Enter the Boy. Boy. 
Mine Host Pistol, you must come to my Master, and your Hostess: He is very sick, & would to bed. Good Bardolfe, put thy face between his sheets, and do the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill.  Bard. 
Away you Rogue.  Host. 
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.  Exit Bar. 
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?  Pissed. 
Let stoods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on.  Nym. 
You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at Betting?  Pissed. 
Base is the Slave that pays.  Nym. 
That now I will have: that's the humour of it.  Pissed. 
As manhood shall compound: push home.  Draw Bard. 
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust,  
I'll kill him: By this sword, I wil  Pi. 
Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must have their course  Bar. 
Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be friends, and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me to: prithee put up.  Pissed. 
A Noble shalt thou have, and present pay, and Liquor likewise will I give to thee, and friendship shall combyne, and brotherhood. I'll live by Nymme, & Nymme shall live by me, is not this just? For I shall Surler be unto the Camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand.  Nym 
I shall have my Noble?  Pissed. 
In cash, most justly paid.  Nym. 
Well, then that the humour of't.  Enter Hostess. Host. 
As ever you come of women, come in quickly to sir john: A 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.  Pissed. 
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 carreeres.  Pissed. 
Let us condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we will live.  Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmoreland. Bed 
Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors  Exe. 
They shall be apprehended by and by.  West. 
How smooth and even they do bear themselves,  
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat  
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty.  Bed. 
The King hath note of all that they intent,  
By interception, which they dream not of.  Exe. 
Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,  
Whom he hath dulled and cloyed with gracious favours;  
That he should for a foreign purse, so sell  
His Sovereign's life to death and treachery.  Sound Trumpet's. Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, and Gray. King. 
Now sits the wind fane, 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.  Scro. 
No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best.  King. 
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.  Cam. 
Never was Monarch better feared and loved,  
Then is your Majesty; there's not I think a subject  
That sits in heart-greefe and uneasiness  
Under the sweet shade of your government.  Kni. 
True: those that were your Father's enemies,  
Have steeped their gauls in honey, and do serve you  
With hearts create of duty, and of zeal.  King. 
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.  Scro. 
So service shall with steeled sinews toil,  
And labour shall refresh itself with hope  
To do your Grace incestant services.  King. 
We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,  
Enlarge the man committed yesterday,  
That nailed against our person: We consider  
It was excess of Wine that set him on,  
And on his more advice, We pardon him,  Scro. 
That's mercy, but too much security:  
Let him be punished Sovereign, lest example  
Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a kind.  King. 
O let us yet be merciful.  Cam. 
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. 
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 winked at, how shall we stretch our eye  
When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested,  
Appear before us? we'll yet enlarge that man,  
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Gray, 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?  Cam. 
I one my Lord,  
Your Highness bade me ask for it to day.  Scro. 
So did you me my Liege.  Gray. 
And I my Royal Sovereign.  King. 
Then Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours:  
There yours Lord Scroop of Masham, and Sir Knight:  
Gray 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 have so cowarded and chased your blood  
Out of appearance.  Cam. 
I do confess my fault,  
And do submit me to your Highness' mercy.  Gray. Scro. 
To which we all appeal.  King. 
The mercy that was quick in us but late,  
By your own counsel is suppressed and killed:  
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 with all appertinents  
Belonging to his Honour; and this man,  
Hath for a few light Crowns, lightly conspired  
And sworn unto the practices of France  
To kill us here in Hampton. To the which,  
This Knight no less for bounty bound to Us  
Then 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 knewest the very bottom of my soul,  
That (almost) mightst have coined me into Gold,  
Wouldst thou have practised on me, for thy use?  
May it be possible, that foreign higher  
Can 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 an natural cause,  
That admiration did not hoop at them.  
But thou ('gainst all proportion) didst bring in  
Wonder to wait on reason, and on murder:  
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was  
That wrought upon thee so preposterously,  
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence:  
And other devils that suggest by treasons,  
Do botch and bungle up damnation,  
With patches, colours, and with forms being fetched  
From glistering semblances of piety:  
But he that tempered 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 Daemon that hath gulled thee thus,  
Should with his Lyon-gate 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 Englishmans.  
Oh, 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,  
Garnished and decked in modest compliment,  
Not working with the eye, without the ear,  
And but in purged judgement trusting neither,  
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem:  
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,  
To make thee full fraught man, and best endued  
With some suspicion, I will weep for thee.  
For this revolt of thine, me thinks is like  
Another fall of Man. Their faults are open,  
Arrest them to the answer of the Law,  
And God acquit them of their practices.  Exe. 
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge.  
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Lord Scroop of Marsham.  
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, Knight of Northumberland.  Scro. 
Our purposes▪ God justly hath discovered,  
And I repent my fault more than my death,  
Which I beseech your Highness to forgive,  
Although my body pay the price of it.  Cam. 
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 in sufferance hearty will rejoice,  
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me.  Gray. 
Never did faithful subject more rejoice  
At the discovery of most dangerous Treason,  
Then I do at this hour joy o'er myself,  
Prevented from a damned enterprise;  
My fault, but not my body, pardon Sovereign.  King. 
God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence  
You have conspired against Our Royal person,  
Joined with an enemy proclaimed, 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 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.  Exit. 
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 strait in expedition.  
Cheerly to Sea, the signs of War advance,  
No King of England, if not King of France.  Flourish. Enter Pistol, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostess. Hostess. 
‛ Prithee honey sweet Husband, let me bring thee to Staines.  Pistol. 
No: for my manly heart doth earn. Bardolph, be blithe: Nim, rouse thy vaunting Veins: Boy, bristle thy Courage up: for Falstaff he is dead, and we must earn therefore.  Bard. 
Would I were with him, wheresomere 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 and it had been any Christome Child: a parted even just between Twelve and One, even at the turning o' th' Tide: for after I saw him sumble with the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile upon his finger's end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was as sharp as a Pen, and a Table of green fields. How now Sir john (quoth I?) what man? be a 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 bad 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 so vp-peered, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.  Nim. 
They say he cried out of Sack.  Hostess. 
I, that a did.  Bard. 
And of Women.  Hostess. 
Nay, that a did not.  Boy. 
Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate.  Woman. 
A could never abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour he never liked.  Boy. 
A said once, the Deule would have him about Women.  Hostess. 
A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women: but then he was rumatique, and talked of the Whore of Babylon.  Boy. 
Do you not remember a saw a Flea stick upon Bardolphs' Nose, and a said it was a black Soul burning in Hell.  Bard. 
Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that's all the Riches I got in his service.  Nim. 
Shall we shogg? the King will be gone from Southampton.  Pissed. 
Come, let's away. My Love, give me thy Lips: Look to my Chattels, and my Movables: Let Senses rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oaths are Straws, men's Faiths are Wafercakes, and holdfast is the only Dog: My Duck, therefore Caveto bee thy Counsellor. Go, clear thy Crystals. Yoke-fellowes in Arms, let us to France, like Horseleeches my Boys, to suck, to suck, the very blood to suck.  Boy. 
And that's but unwholesome food, they say.  Pissed. 
Touch her soft mouth, and march.  Bard. 
Farewell Hostess.  Nim. 
I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it: but adieu.  Pissed. 
Let Housewifry appear: keep close, I thee command.  Hostess. 
Farewell: adieu.  Exeunt Flourish. Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and Britain. King. 
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 Berry and of Britain,  
Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth,  
And you Prince Dolphin, 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.  Dolphin. 
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 maintained, 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, then if we heard that England  
Were busied with a Whitsun Morris-dance:  
For, my good Liege, she is so idly Kinged,  
Her Sceptre so fantastically borne,  
By a vain giddy shallow humorous Youth,  
That fear attends her not.  Const. 
O peace, Prince Dolphin,  
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 Councillors,  
How modest in exception; and withal,  
How terrible in constant resolution:  
And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent,  
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.  Dolphin. 
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 filled:  
Which of a weak and niggardly projection,  
Doth like a Miser spoil his Coat, with scanting  
A little Cloth.  King. 
Think we King Harry strong:  
And Princes, look you strongly arm to meet him.  
The Kindred of him hath been fleshed 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 captived, by the hand  
Of that black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:  
Whiles that his Mountain Sire, on Mountain standing  
up in the Air, crowned 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. Mess. 
Ambassadors from Harry King of England,  
Do crave admittance to your Majesty.  King. 
we'll give them present audience.  
Go, and bring them.  
You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends.  Dolphin. 
Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs  
Most spend their mouths, when what they seem to threaten  
Runs fare 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 selfe-neglecting.  Enter Exeter. King. 
From our Brother of England?  Exe. 
From him, and thus he greets your Majesty:  
He will you in the Name of God Almighty,  
That you divest yourself, and lay apart  
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heaven,  
By Law of Nature, and of Nations, longs  
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 awk-ward Claim,  
Picked from the worme-holes of long-vanisht days,  
Nor from the dust of old Oblivion raked,  
He sends you this most memorable Line,  
In every Branch truly demonstrative;  
Willing you 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. 
Or else what follows?  Exe. 
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 Widow's Tears, the Orphan's Cries,  
The dead-men's Blood, the privy Maidens Groans,  
For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Lovers,  
That shall be swallowed in this Controversy.  
This is his Claim, his Threatening, and my Message:  
Unless the Dolphin be in presence here;  
To whom expressly I bring greeting to.  King. 
For us, we will consider of this further:  
To morrow shall you bear our full intent  
Back to our Brother of England.  Dolph. 
For the Dolphin,  
I stand here for him: what to him from England?  Exe. 
Scorn and defiance, sleight regard, contempt,  
And any thing that may not misbecome  
The mighty Sender, doth he prise you at.  
Thus says my King: and 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 Wombie Vaultages of France  
Shall chide your Trespass, and return your Mock  
In second Accent of his Ordinance.  Dolph. 
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.  Exe. 
he'll make your Paris Lover 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. 
To morrow shall you know our mind at full.  Flourish. Exe. 
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. 
You shallbe soon dispatched, with fair conditions.  
A Night is but small breath, and little pause,  
To answer matters of this consequence.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  Flourish. Enter Chorus. 
Thus with imagined wing our swift Scene flies,  
In motion of no less celerity then that of Thought.  
Suppose, that you have seen  
The well-appointed King at Dover Peer,  
Embark his Royalty: and his brave Fleet,  
With silken Streamers, the young Phoebus feigning;  
Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,  
Upon the Hempen Tackle, Shipboys climbing;  
Hear the shrill Whistle, which doth order give  
To sounds confused: behold the threaden Sails,  
Borne with th' invisible and creeping Wind,  
Draw the huge Bottoms through the furrowed Sea,  
Bresting the lofty Surge. O, do but think  
You stand upon the Rivage▪ and behold  
A City on th' inconstant Billows dancing:  
For so appears this Fleet Majestical,  
Holding due course to Harflew. Fellow, 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 passed, or not arrived to pith and puissance:  
For who is he, whose Chin is but enriched  
With one appearing Hair, that will not follow  
These culled and choyse-drawne Cavaliers to France?  
Work, work your Thoughts, and therein see a Siege:  
Behold the Ordnance on their Carriages,  
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harflew.  
Suppose th' Ambassador from the French comes back:  
Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him  
Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowry,  
Some petty and unprofitable Dukedoms.  
The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner  
With Lynstock now the devilish Cannon touches  Alarm, and Chambers go off. 
And down goes all before them. Still be kind,  
And eke out our performance with your mind.  Exit. Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester. Alarm: Scaling Ladders at Harflew. King. 
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, commune up the blood,  
Disguise fair Nature with hard-favoured Rage:  
Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:  
Let it 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're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,  
Swilled 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 Noblish English,  
Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:  
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 called Fathers, did beget you.  
Be Copy now to me of grosser blood,  
And teach them how to War. And you good Yeomen,  
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,  
Straying upon the Start. The Game's afoot:  
Fellow your Spirit; and upon this Charge,  
Cry, God for Harry, England, and S. George.  Alarm, and Chambers go off. Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy. Bard. 
On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.  Nim. 
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 plainsong of it.  Pissed. 
The plainsong is most just: for humours do abound: Knocks go and come: Gods Vassals drop and dye: 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.  Pissed. 
And I: If wishes would prevail with me, my purpose should not fail with me; but thither would I high.  Boy. 
As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on bough.  Enter Fluellen. Flu. 
up to the breach, you Dogs; avaunt you Cullions.  Pissed. 
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.  Nim. 
These be good humours: your Honour wins bad humours.  Exit. 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 Antiques 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 kill Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the means whereof, a breaks Words, and keeps whole Weapons: for Nim, 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 halfpences. Nim 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 Handkerchief: 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 Villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.  Exit. Enter Gower. Gower. 
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.  Flu. 
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, th' athuersarie, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digged himself four yard under the Countermines: by Jesus, 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 Irish man, a very valiant Gentleman i'faith.  Welch. 
It is Captain Makmorrice, is it not?  Gower. 
I think it be.  Welch. 
By Jesus he is an Ass, as in the World, I will verify as much in his Beard: he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the Wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.  Enter Makmorrice, and Captain jamy. Gower. 
Here a comes, and the Scots Captain, Captain jamy, with him.  Welch. 
Captain jamy is a marvelous valorous Gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchiant Wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Jesus he will maintain his Argument as well as any Military man in the World, in the disciplines of the Pristine Wars of the Romans.  Scot 
I say day, Captain Fluellen.  Welch. 
God-den to your Worship, good Captain James.  Gower. 
How now Captain Mackmorrice, have you quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?  Irish. 
By Christ Law tish ill done: the Work is give over, the Trumpet sound the Retreat. By my Hand I swear, and my father's Soul, the Work is ill done: it is give over: I would have blowed up the Town, so Christ save me law, in an hour. O 'Tish ill done, 'Tish ill done: by my Hand tish ill done.  Welch. 
Captain Mackmorrice, I beseech you now, will you vouchsafe 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.  Scot 
It fall be vary good, good faith, good Captains bathe, and I fall quit you with good leave, as I may pick occasion: that fall I marry.  Irish. 
It is no time to discourse, so Christ 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 breech, and we talk, and be Christ 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 is nothing done, so Christ sa'me law.  Scot 
By the Mes, ere these eyes of mine take themselves to slumber, ail the good service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it; ay, or go to death: and I'll paid as valorously as I may, that fall I surly do, that is the brief and the long: marry, I wouldhave full feign heard some question 'tween you twain.  Welch. 
Captain Mackmorrice, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your Nation.  Irish. 
Of my Nation? What is my Nation? Is a Villain, and a Bastard, and a Knave, and a Rascal. What is my Nation? Who talks of my Nation?  Welch. 
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise then is meant, Captain Mackmorrice, 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.  Irish. 
I do not know you so good a man as myself: so Christ save me, I will cut off your Head.  Gower. 
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.  Scot 
A, that's a foul fault.  A Parley. Gower. 
The Town sounds a Parley.  Welch. 
Captain Mackmorrice, 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.  Exit. Enter the King and all his Train before the Gates. King. 
How yet resolves the Governor of the Town?  
This is the latest Parley 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 batt'rie once again,  
I will not leave the halfe-atchieved Harflew,  
Till in her ashes she lie buried.  
The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut up,  
And the fleshed 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,  
Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends,  
Do with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,  
Enlynckt to waste and desolation?  
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,  
If your pure Maiden's 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 th' enraged Soldiers in their spoil,  
As send Precepts to the Leviathan, to come ashore.  
Therefore, you men of Harflew,  
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're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds  
Of headly Murder, Spoil, and Villainy.  
If not: why in a moment look to see  
The blind and bloody Soldier, with foul hand  
Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters:  
Your Fathers taken by the silver Beards,  
And their most reverend Heads dashed 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 destroyed.  Enter Governor. Gover. 
Our expectation hath this day an end:  
The Dolphin, whom of Succours 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. 
Open your Gates: Come Uncle Exeter,  
Go you and enter Harflew; 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 Calis.  
To night in Harflew will we be your Guest,  
To morrow for the March are we addressed.  Flourish, and enter the Town. Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman. Kathe. 
Alice, tu as este en Augleterre, & tu bien parlas le Language.  Alice. 
En peu Madame.  Kath. 
je te prie m'ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend a parlen: Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois?  Alice. 
Le main il & appelle de Hand.  Kath. 
De Hand.  Alice. 
Eel doyts.  Kat. 
Le doyts, ma foy je oublie, e doit mays, ie me sovemeray le doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle de fingers, on the fingers.  Alice. 
Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingers, ie pense que ie suis, le bon escholier.  Kath. 
I ay gaynie diux mots d' Anglois vistement, comment appelle vous le ongles?  Alice. 
Le ongles, les appellons de Nails.  Kath. 
De Nails escoute: dites moy, si ie parle bien: de Hand, the Fingers, e de Nails.  Alice. 
Cest bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois.  Kath. 
Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras.  Alice. 
De Arm, Madame.  Kath. 
E de coudee.  Alice. 
D' Elbow.  Kath. 
D' Elbow: je men fay le repiticio de touts les mots que vous maves, apprins des a present.  Alice. 
Il & trop difficile Madame, comme je pense.  Kath. 
Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de Finger, the Nails, d' Arma, de Elbow.  Alice. 
D' Elbow, Madame.  Kath. 
O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow, comment appelle vous le col.  Alice. 
De Nick, Madame.  Kath. 
De Nick, e le menton.  Alice. 
De Chin.  Kath. 
De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin.  Alice. 
Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies les mots ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre.  Kath. 
je ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace de Dieu, & en peu de temps.  Alice. 
N ave vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a enfignie.  Kath. 
Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand, de Finger, de Maylees.  Alice. 
De Nails, Madame.  Kath. 
De Nails, de Arm, de Ilbow.  Alice. 
Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow.  Kath. 
Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin: comment appelle vous les pied & de roba.  Alice. 
Le Foot Madame, & le Count  Kath. 
Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il sont le mots de son mauvais corruptible gross & impudique, & non pour lo Dames de Honeur d' user: le ne voudray pronouncer ce mots devant le Seigneurs de France, pour toute le monde, fo le Foot & le Count, neant moys, je recitera un autrefoys ma lecon ensembe, d' Hand, de Finger, the Nails, d' Arm, d' Elbow, de Nick, the Sin, the Foot, le Count  Alice. 
Excellent, Madame.  Kath. 
C' est asses pour une foyes, alons nous a dinner.  Exit. Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the Constable of France, and others. King. 
'Tis certain he hath passed the River Some.  Const. 
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.  Dolph. 
O Dieu vivant: Shall a few Sprays of us,  
The emptying of our Father's Luxury,  
Our Scions, put in wild and savage Stock,  
Spirit up so suddenly into the Clouds,  
And overlook their Grafters?  Brit. 
Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards:  
Mort du mavie, if they march along  
Unfought withal, but I will sell my Dukedom,  
To buy a slobbry and a dirty Farm  
In that nooke-shotten I'll of Albion.  Const. 
Dieu de Battles, 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-reyned ●ades, their Barly 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 Isyckles  
Upon our House's Thatch, whiles a more frosty People  
Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields:  
Poor we call them, in their Native Lords.  Dolphin. 
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.  Brit. 
They bid us to the English Dancing-schools,  
And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carrantoes,  
Saying, our Grace is only in our Heels,  
And that we are most lofty Runaways.  King. 
Where is Montioy 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, high to the field:  
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,  
You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,  
Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonic,  
jaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont,  
Beumont, Grand Free, Roussi, and Faulconbridge,  
Joys, Lestrake, Bouciquall, and Charlaloys,  
High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings;  
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 Harflew:  
Rush on his Host, as doth the melted Snow  
Upon the Valleys, whose low Vassal Seat,  
The Alpes 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.  Const. 
This becomes the Great.  
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,  
His Soldiers sick, and famished 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. 
Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy,  
And let him say to England, that we send,  
To know what willing Ransom he will give.  
Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.  Dolph. 
Not so, I do beseech your Majesty.  King. 
Be patiented, for you shall remain with us.  
Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all,  
And quickly bring us word of England's fall.  Exeunt. Enter Captains, English and Welsh, Gower and Fluellen. Gower. 
How now Captain Fluellen, come you from the Bridge?  Flu. 
I assure you, there is very excellent Services committed at the Bridge.  Gower. 
Is the Duke of Exeter safe?  Flu. 
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 live, 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 ancient Lieutenant there at the Bridge, I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Anthony, and he is a man of no estimation in the World, but I did see him do as gallant service.  Gower. 
What do you call him?  Flu. 
He is called ancient Pistol.  Gower. 
I know him not.  Enter Pistol. Flu. 
Here is the man.  Pissed. 
Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours: the Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.  Flu. 
I, I praise God, and I have merited some love at his hands.  Pist. 
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.  Flu. 
By your patience, ancient Pistol: Fortune is painted blind, with a Muffler afore his 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 roll, and rolls, and roll: in good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent description of it: Fortune is an excellent Moral.  Pissed. 
Fortune is Bardolphs' 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 Windpipe 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 Bardolphs' vital thread be cut with edge of Penny-Cord, and vile reproach. Speak Captain for his Life, and I will thee requite.  Flu. 
Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.  Pissed. 
Why then rejoice therefore.  Flu. 
Certainly Ancient, 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.  Pissed. 
die, and be damned, and Figo for thy friendship.  Flu. 
It is well.  Pissed. 
The Fig of Spain.  Exit. Flu. 
Very good.  Gower. 
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascal, I remember him now: a Bawd, a Cutpurse.  Flu. 
I'll assure you, a vtt'red 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-washt 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.  Flu. 
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: hark you the King is coming, and I must speak with him from the Bridge.  Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poor Soldiers. Flu. 
God pless your Majesty.  King. 
How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge?  Flu. 
I, so please your Majesty: The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the Bridge; the French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most brave passages: marry, th' athuersarie was have possession of the Bridge, but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is Master of the Bridge: I can tell your Majesty, the Duke is a brave man.  King. 
What men have you lost, Fluellen?  Flu. 
The perdition of th' athuersarie hath been very great, reasonnable 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 a fire, and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plew, and sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.  King. 
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 Levity and Cruelty play for a Kingdom, the gentler Gamester is the soon winner.  Tucket. Enter Mountioy. Mountioy. 
You know me by my habit.  King. 
Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee?  Mountioy. 
My Master's mind.  King. 
Unfold it.  Mountioy. 
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 Harflewe, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury, till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our Q. 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 pettinesse would bow under. For our losses, his Exchequer is too poor; for th' 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 fare my King and Master; so much my Office.  King. 
What is thy name? I know thy quality.  Mount. 
Mountioy.  King. 
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 Mountioy.  
Go bid thy Master well advice himself.  
If we may pass, we will: if we be hindered,  
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood  
Discolour: and so Mountioy, far 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.  Mount. 
I shall deliver so: Thanks to your Highness.  Glouc. 
I hope they will not come upon us now.  King. 
We are in God's hand, Brother, not in theirs:  
March to the Bridge, ●t now draws toward night,  
Beyond the River we'll encamp ourselves,  
And on to morrow bid them march away.  Exeunt. Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleans, Dolphin, with others. Const. 
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.  Const. 
It is the best Horse of Europe.  Orleans. 
Will it never be Morning?  Dolph. 
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.  Dolph. 
What a long Night is this? I will not change my Horse with any that treads but on four postures: ch' ha': he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were hairs: le Cheval volante, the Pegasus, ches les na●nes de feu. When I bestryde him, I soar, I am a Hawk: he trots the air: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest horn of his hose, is more Musical than the Pipe of Hermes.  Orleans. 
he's of the colour of the Nutmeg.  Dolph. 
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 patiented stillness while his Rider mounts him: he is indeed a Horse, and all other jade's you may call Beasts.  Const. 
Indeed my Lord, it is a most absolute and excellent Horse.  Dolph. 
It is the Prince of palfreys, his Neigh is like the bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces Homage.  Orleans. 
No more Cousin.  Dolph. 
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 Palsray: 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 ones Mistress.  Dolph. 
Then did they imitate that which I composed to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistress.  Orleans. 
Your Mistress bears well.  Dolph. 
Me well, which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular Mistress.  Const. 
Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistress shrewdly shaken your back.  Dolph. 
So perhaps did yours.  Const. 
Mine was not bridled.  Dolph. 
O then belike she was old and gentle, and you road like a Kern of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in your straight Strossers.  Const. 
You have good judgement in Horsemanship.  Dolph. 
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.  Const. 
I had as live have my Mistress a jade.  Dolph. 
I tell thee Constable, my Mistress wears his own hair.  Const. 
I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a Sow to my Mistress.  Dolph. 
Le chien est return a son propre vemissement est la levye lavee au bourbier: thou makest use of any thing.  Const. 
Yet do I not use my Horse for my Mistress, or any such Proverb, so little kin to the purpose.  Ramb. 
My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in your Tent to night, are those Stars or Suns upon it?  Const. 
Stars my Lord.  Dolph. 
Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope.  Const. 
And yet my Sky shall not want.  Dolph. 
That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and 'twere more honour some were away.  Const. 
Even as your Horse bears your praises, who would troth as well, were some of your brags dismounted.  Dolph. 
Would I were able to load him with his desert. Will it never be day? I will troth to morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English Faces.  Const. 
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.  Ramb. 
Who will go to Hazard with me for twenty Prisoners?  Const. 
You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you have them.  Dolph 
'Tis Midnight, I'll go arm myself.  Exit. Orleans. 
The Dolphin longs for morning.  Ramb. 
He longs to eat the English.  Const. 
I think he will eat all he kills.  Orleans. 
By the white Hand of my Lady, he's a gallant Prince.  Const. 
Swear by her Foot, that she may tread out the Oath.  Orleans. 
He is simply the most active Gentleman of France.  Const. 
Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.  Orleans. 
He never did harm, that I heard of.  Const. 
Nor will do none to morrow: he will keep that good name still.  Orleans. 
I know him to be valiant.  Const. 
I was told that, by one that knows him better than you.  Orleans. 
What's he?  Const. 
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.  Const. 
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.  Const. 
I will cap that Proverb with, There is flattery in friendship.  Orleans. 
And I will take up that with, Give the Devil his due.  Const. 
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 Fools Bolt is soon shot.  Const. 
You have shot over.  Orleans. 
'Tis not the first time you were over-shot.  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
My Lord high Constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your Tents.  Const. 
Who hath measured the ground?  Mess. 
The Lord Grandpree.  Const. 
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 fare out of his knowledge.  Const. 
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 Headpieces.  Ramb. 
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.  Const. 
Just, just: and the men do sympathise 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. 
I, but these English are shrewdly out of Beef.  Const. 
Then shall we find to morrow, they have only stomaches to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: come, shall we about it?  Orleans. 
It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten  
We shall have each a hundred English men.  Exeunt.  

Actus Tertius.  Chorus. 
Now entertain conjecture of a time,  
When creeping Murmur and the poring Darke  
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 others Watch.  
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames  
Each Battle sees the others vmbered 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 named,  
Proud of their Numbers, and secure in Soul,  
The confident and overlustie French,  
Do the low-rated English play at Dice;  
And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night,  
Who like a foul and ugly Witch doth limp  
So tediously away. The poor condemned English,  
Like Sacrifices, by their watchful Fires  
Sat patiently, and inly ruminate  
The Morning's danger: and their gesture sad,  
Investing lanke-leane Cheeks, and Warre-worne Coats,  
Presented them unto the gazing Moon  
So many horrid Ghosts. O now, who will behold  
The Royal Captain of this ruined 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 overbeares Attaint,  
With cheerful semblance, and sweet Majesty:  
That every Wretch, pining and pale before,  
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Looks.  
A Largesse 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 Mock'ries be.  Exit. Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester. King. 
Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger,  
The greater therefore should our Courage be.  
God morrow Brother Bedford: God Almighty,  
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,  
Would men obseruingly 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.  Erping. 
Not so my Liege, this. Lodging likes me better,  
Since I may say, now lie I like a King.  King. 
'Tis good for men to love their present pains,  
Upon example, so the Spirit is eased:  
And when the Mind is quickened, 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 all to my Pavilion:  Gloster. 
We shall, my Liege.  Erping. 
Shall I attend your Grace?  King. 
No, my good Knight:  
Go with my Brothers to my Lords of England:  
I and my Bosom must debate a while,  
And then I would no other company.  Erping. 
The Lord in Heaven bless thee, Noble Harry.  Exeunt. King. 
God a mercy old Heart, thou speakest cheerfully.  Enter Pistol. Pissed. 
I vous la?  King. 
A friend.  Pissed. 
Discuss unto me, art thou Officer, or art thou base, common, and popular?  King. 
I am a Gentleman of a Company.  Pissed. 
Trayl'st thou the puissant Pike?  King. 
Even so: what are you?  Pissed. 
As good a Gentleman as the Emperor.  King. 
Then you are a better than the King.  Pissed. 
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 heartstring I love the lovely Bully. What is thy Name?  King. 
Harry le Roy.  Pissed. 
Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew?  King. 
No, I am a Welshman.  Pissed. 
knowst thou Fluellen?  King. 
Yes.  Pissed. 
Tell him I'll knock his Leek about his Pate upon S. davies day.  King. 
Do not you wear your Dagger in your Cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.  Pissed. 
Art thou his friend?  King. 
And his Kinsman too.  Pissed. 
The Figo for thee then.  King. 
I thank you: God be with you.  Pissed. 
My name is Pistol called.  Exit. King. 
It sorts well with your fierceness.  Manet King. Enter Fluellen and Gower. Gower. 
Captain Fluellen.  Flu. 
‛ So, in the Name of jesus Christ, speak fewer: it is the greatest admiration in the universal World, when the true and ancient Prerogatives 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 tadle nor pebble babble 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.  Flu. 
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?  Gow. 
I will speak lower.  Flu. 
I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.  Exit. King. 
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 William's. 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. 
A Friend.  Williams. 
Under what Captain serve you?  King. 
Under Sir john Erpingham.  Williams. 
A good old Commander, and a most kind Gentleman: I pray you▪ what thinks he of our estate?  King. 
Even as men wracked upon a Sand, that look to be washed off the next Tide.  Bates. 
He hath not told his thought to the King?  King. 
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 humane 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. 
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. 
I dare say, you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone: howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds, me thinks I could not dye 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. 
I, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the King's 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 a 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 own, some upon their Children rawly left: I am afeared, there are few dye 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 dye well, it will be a black matter for the King, that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion of subjection.  King. 
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 dye 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 end 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-murther; 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 his 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 Kings, 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 Moth 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.  Will. 
'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head, the King is not to answer it.  Bates. 
I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.  King. 
I myself heard the King say he would not be ransomed.  Will. 
I, 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. 
If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.  Will. 
You pay him then: that's a perilous shot out of an Elder Gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a Monarch: you may as well go about to turn the Sun to ye, with fanning in his face with a Peacock's feather: You'll never trust his word after; come, 'tis a foolish saying.  King. 
Your reproof is something too round, I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.  Will. 
Let it be a Quarrel between us, if you live.  King. 
I embrace it.  Will. 
How shall I know thee again?  King. 
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.  Will. 
here's my Glove: Give me another of thine.  King. 
There.  Will. 
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. 
If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.  Will. 
Thou darest as well be hanged.  King. 
Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company.  Will. 
Keep thy word: far thee well.  Bates. 
Be friends you English fools, be friends, we have French Quarrels enough, if you could tell how to reckon.  Exit Soldiers. King. 
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.  
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 wring.  
What infinite hearts-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 Idol Ceremony?  
What kind of God art thou? that sufferest more  
Of mortal griefs, then do thy worshippers.  
What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in?  
O Ceremony, show me but thy worth.  
What? is thy Soul of Odoration?  
Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Form,  
Creating awe and fear in other men?  
Wherein thou art less happy, being feared,  
Then they in fearing.  
What drinkest thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet,  
But poisoned flattery? O, be sick, great Greatness,  
And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure.  
Thinks 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 Kings Repose.  
I am a King that find thee: and I know,  
'Tis not the Balm, the Sceptre, and the Ball,  
The Sword, the Maze, the Crown Imperiall,  
The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearl,  
The farsed 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 sound, as the wretched Slave:  
Who with a body filled, and vacant mind,  
Gets him to rest, crammed 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 Hiperio 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 forehand 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. Erp. 
My Lord, your Nobles jealous of your absence,  
Seek through your Camp to find you.  King. 
Good old Knight, collect them all together  
At my Tent: I'll be before thee.  Erp. 
I shall do't, my Lord.  Exit. King. 
O God of Battles, steel my Soldier's hearts,  
Possess them not with fear: Take from them now  
The sense of reckoning of th' 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 new,  
And on it have bestowed more contrite tears,  
Then from it issued forced drops of blood.  
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,  
Who twice a day their withered hands hold up  
Toward Heaven, to pardon blood:  
And I have built two Chauntries,  
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. Glouc. 
My Liege.  King. 
My Brother Gloucesters' voice? I:  
I know thy errand, I will go with thee:  
The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.  Exeunt. Enter the Dolphin, Orleans, Ramburs, and Beaumond. Orleans. 
The Sun doth gild our Armour up, my Lords.  Dolph. 
Monte Cheval: My Horse, Verlot Lackey: Ha.  Orleans. 
Oh brave Spirit.  Dolph. 
Viales swes & terre.  Orleans. 
Rien puis le air & f●.  Dolph. 
Coin, Cousin Orleans.  Enter Constable. 
Now my Lord Constable?  Const. 
Hark how our Steeds, for present Service neigh.  Dolph. 
Mount them, and make incision in their Hides,  
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,  
And doubt them with superfluous courage: ha'.  Ram. 
What, will you have them weep our Horse's blood?  
How shall we then behold their natural tears?  Enter Messenger. Messeng. 
The English are embattled, you French Peers.  Const. 
To Horse you gallant Princes, strait to Horse.  
Do but behold yond 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 Curtleax a stain,  
That our French Gallants shall to day draw out,  
And sheath for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them,  
The vapour of our Valour will o'erturn them.  
'Tis positive against all exceptions, Lords,  
That our superfluous Lackeys, and our Peasants,  
Who in unnecessary action swarm  
About our Squares of Battle, were enough  
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 Sonnance, and the Note to mount:  
For our approach shall so much dare the field,  
That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.  Enter Graundpree. Grandpree. 
Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France?  
Yond Island Carrions, desperate of their bones,  
Illfavoredly become the Morning field:  
Their ragged Curtains poorly are let lose,  
And our Air shakes them passing scornfully.  
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggared Host,  
And faintly through a rusty Beaver peeps.  
The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks,  
With Torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades  
Job down their heads, dropping the hides and hips:  
The gum down roping from their pale-dead eyes,  
And in their pale dull mouths the jymold Bit  
Lies foul with chaw'd-grasse, 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 liveless, as it shows itself.  Const. 
They have said their prayers,  
And they ●ay for death.  Dolph. 
Shall we go send them Dinners, and fresh Suits,  
And give their fasting Horses Provender,  
And after fight with them?  Const. 
I stay but for my Guard: on  
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. Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Host: Salisbury, and Westmoreland. Glouc. 
Where is the King?  Bedf. 
The King himself is road to view their Battle.  West. 
Of fight men they have full threescore thousand.  Exe. 
There's five to one, besides they all are fresh.  Salisb. 
Gods Arm strike with us, 'tis a fearful odds.  
God buy ' 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.  Bedf. 
Farewell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee:  
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,  
For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.  Exe. 
Farewell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day.  Bedf 
He is as full of Valour as of Kindness,  
Princely in both.  Enter the King. West. 
O that we now had here  
But one ten thousand of those men in England,  
That do no work to day.  King. 
What's he that wishes so?  
My Cousin Westmoreland. No, my fair Cousin:  
If we are marked to dye, we are enough  
To do our Country loss: and if to live,  
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.  
God's will, pray thee wish not one man more.  
By jove, I am not covetous for Gold,  
Nor care I who doth seed upon my cost:  
It yernes 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 i'faith, my Cousin, wish not a man from England:  
God's peace, I would not lose so great an Honour,  
● one man more me thinks would share from me,  
●r the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more:  
●ther proclaim it (Westmoreland) through my Host,  
●at he which hath no stomach to this fight,  
●t him departed, his Passport shall be made,  
A●d Crowns for Convoy put into his Purse:  
We would not dye in that man's company,  
That fears his fellowship, to dye with us.  
This day is called the Feast of Crispian:  
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,  
Will stand a tiptoe when this day is named,  
And rowie him at the Name of Crispian.  
He that shall see this day, and live 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:  
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 remembered.  
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 remembered;  
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 the ●selues accursed they were not here;  
And hold their Manhood's cheap, whiles any speaks,  
That fought with us upon Saint Crispines' day.  Enter Salisbury. Sal. 
My Sovereign Lord, bestow yourself with speed:  
The French are bravely in their battles set,  
And will with all expedience charge on us.  King. 
All things are ready, if our minds be so.  West. 
Perish the man, whose mind is backward now.  King. 
Thou dost not wish more help from England, Cousin?  West. 
God's will, my Liege, would you and I alone,  
Without more help, could fight this Royal battle.  King. 
Why now thou hast unwisht five thousand men:  
Which likes me better, then to wish us one.  
You know your places: God be with you all.  Tucket. Enter Montioy. Mont. 
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 sester.  King. 
Who hath sent thee now?  Mont. 
The Constable of France.  King. 
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 bullets crasing,  
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 besmyrcht  
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 slovenrie.  
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.  Mont. 
I shall, King Harry. And so far thee well:  
Thou never shalt hear Herald any more.  Exit. King. 
I fear thou wilt once more come again for a Ransom.  Enter York. York. 
My Lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the Vanguard.  King. 
Take it, brave York.  
Now Soldiers march away,  
And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.  Exeunt. Alarm▪ Excursions. Enter Pistol, French Soldier, Boy. Pissed. 
Yield Cur.  French. 
je pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon quality.  Pissed. 
Qualtitie calmie cuslure me. Art thou a Gentleman? What is thy Name? discuss.  French. 
O Seigneur Dieu.  Pissed. 
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. 
O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy.  Pissed. 
Moy shall not serve, I will have forty Moyes: for I will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in drops of Crimson blood.  French. 
Est il impossible d'eschapper le force de ton bras.  Pissed. 
Brass▪ Cur? thou damned and luxurious Mountain Goat, offerest me Brass?  French. 
O perdonne moy.  Pissed. 
Sayest thou me so? is that a Ton of Moyes? Come hither boy, ask me this slave in French what is his Name.  Boy. 
Escoute comment estes vous appelle?  French. 
Mounsieur le Fer.  Boy. 
He says his Name is M. Fer.  Pissed. 
M. Fer: I'll far him, and firk him, and ferret him: discuss the same in French unto him.  Boy. 
I do not know the French for far, and ferret, and firk.  Pissed. 
Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.  French. 
Que dit il Mounsieur?  Boy. 
Il me commande a vous dire que vous faite vous prost, car ce soldat icy est disposee tout asture de couppes vostre gorge.  Pissed. 
Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy peasant, unless thou give me Crowns, brave Crowns▪ or mangled shalt thou be by this my Sword.  French. 
O je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu: ma pardonner, je suis le Gentilhome de bon maison, garde ma vie, & je vous donneray deux cent escus.  Pissed. 
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.  Pissed. 
Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crowns will take.  Fren. 
Petit Monsieur que dit il?  Boy. 
Encore qu il et contra son jurement, de pardonner aucune prisonner: neant-mon● pour les escues que vous layt a promets, il est content a vous donnes lo liberie le franchisement.  Fre. 
Sur mes genoux se vous donnes mills remercious, et je me estime heurex que je entomb, entre les main. d'vn Chevalier je peuse le plus bran valiant et tres destiny signieur d' Anglererre.  Pissed. 
Expound unto me boy.  Boy. 
He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteems himself happy, that he hath fall'n into the hands of one (as he thinker) the most brave, valorous and thrice-worthy signeur of England.  Pissed. 
As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Fellow me.  Boy. 
Saave vous lo grand Capitaine? 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, Bardolse and Nym had ten times more valour, than this roaring devil i' th' old play, that every one may pair his nails with a wooden dagger, and they are both hanged, and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing adveuturously. I must stay with the Lackeys with the luggage of our camp, the French might have a good pray of us, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys.  Exit. Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dolphin, and Ramburs. Con. 
O Diable.  Orl. 
O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie.  Dol. 
Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all,  
Reproach, and everlasting shame  
Sits mocking in our Plumes.  A short Alarm. 
O meschante Fortune, do not run away.  Con. 
Why all our ranks are broke.  Dol. 
O perdurable shame, let's stab ourselves:  
Be these the wretches that we played at dice for?  Orl. 
Is this the King we sent too, for his ransom?  Bur. 
Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame,  
Let us dye in 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 a base slave, no gentler than my dog,  
His fairest daughter is contaminated.  Con. 
Disorder that hath spoiled us, friend us now,  
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.  Orl. 
We are enough yet living in the Field,  
To smother up the English in our throngs,  
If any order might be thought upon.  Bur. 
The devil take Order now, I'll to the throng;  
Let life be short, else shame will be too long.  Exit. Alarm. Enter the King and his train, with Prisoners. King. 
Well have we done, thrice-valiant Countrymen,  
But all's not done, yet keep the French the field.  Exe. 
The D. of York commends him to your Majesty  King. 
Life's he good Uncle: thrice within this hour  
I saw him down; thrice up again, and fight,  
From Helmet to the spur, all blood he was.  Exe. 
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 hagled over  
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped,  
And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes  
That bloodily did yawn upon his face.  
He cries aloud; Tarry my 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 cheered him up,  
He smiled me in the face, reached me his hand,  
And with a feeble gripe, says: Dear my Lord,  
Commend my service to my Sovereign,  
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck  
He threw his wounded arm, and kissed his lips,  
And so espoused to death, with blood he sealed  
A Testament of Noble-ending-love:  
The pretty and sweet manner of it forced  
Those waters from me, which I would have stopped,  
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. 
I blame you not,  
For hearing this, I must perforce compound  
With mixtfull eyes, or they will issue to.  Alarm 
But hark, what new alarm is this same?  
The French have reenforced their scattered men:  
Then every soldier kill his Prisoners,  
Give the word through.  Exit  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Fluellen and Gower. Flu. 
Kill the boys and the luggage, 'Tis expressly against the Law of Arms, 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery mark you now, as can be offered in your Conscience now, is it not?  Gow. 
'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.  Flu. 
I, he was porne at Monmouth Captain Gower:  
What call you the Town's name where Alexander the pig was borne?  Gow. 
Alexander the Great.  Flu. 
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 borne in Macedon, his Father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.  Flu. 
I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porne: I tell you Captain, if you look in the Maps of the Orld, I warrant you shall find in the comparisons between Macedon & Monmouth, that the situations look you, is both alike. There is a River in Macedon, & there is also moreover a River at Monmouth, it is called Wye at Monmouth: but it is out of my praines, what is the name of the other River: but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is Salmon in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouthes' 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 choler's, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicate in his praines, did in his Ales and his angers (look you) kill his best friend Clitus.  Gow. 
Our King is not like him in that, he never killed any of his friends.  Flu. 
It is not well done (mark you now) to 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 Clitus, being in his Ales and his Cups; so also Harry Monmouth being in his right wits, and his good judgements, turned away the fat Knight with the great belly doublet: he was full of jests, and gypes, and knaveries, and mocks, I have forgot his name.  Gow. 
Sir john Falstaff.  Flu. 
That is he: I'll tell you, there is good men porne at Monmouth.  Gow. 
here comes his Majesty.  Alarm. Enter King Harry and Bourbon with prisoners. Flourish. King. 
I was not angry since I came to France,  
Until this instant. Take a Trumpet Herald,  
Ride thou unto the Horsemen on yond 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 sker 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 Montioy. Exe. 
Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege  Glou. 
His eyes are humbler than they used to be.  King. 
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?  Her. 
No great King:  
I come to thee for charitable Licence,  
That we may wander over this bloody field,  
To book our dead, and then to bury them,  
To sort our Nobles from our common men.  
For many of our Princes (woe the while)  
Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood:  
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs  
In blood of Princes, and with 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.  Kin. 
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 over the field.  Her. 
The day is yours.  Kin. 
Praised be God, and not our strength for it:  
What is this Castle called that stands hard by.  Her. 
They call it Agincourt.  King. 
Then call we this the field of Agincourt,  
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.  Flu. 
Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't please your Majesty) and your great Uncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I have read in the Chronicles, fought a most brave battle here in France.  Kin. 
They did Fluellen.  Flu. 
Your Majesty says very true: If your Majesty's 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 S. Tau●es day.  King. 
I wear it for a memorable honour:  
For I am Welsh you know good Countryman.  Flu. 
All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh blood out of your body, I can tell you that: God pless it, and preserve it; as long as it pleases his Grace, and his Majesty too.  Kin. 
Thanks good my Countrymen.  Flu. 
By leshu, 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. 
Good keep me so.  Enter William's. 
Our Heralds go with him,  
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead  
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.  Exe. 
Soldier, you must come to the King.  Kin. 
Soldier, why wear'st thou that Glove in thy Cap?  Will. 
an't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive.  Kin. 
An Englishman?  Wil 
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' ere: 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 sound.  Kin. 
What think you Captain Fluellen, is it fit this soldier keep his oath.  Flu. 
He is a Craven and a Villain else, an't please your Majesty in my conscience.  King. 
It may be, his enemy is a Gentleman of great sort quite from the answer of his degree.  Flu. 
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 lack sauce, as ever his black shoe trodd upon God's ground, and his earth, in my conscience law  King. 
Then keep thy vow sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.  Wil 
So, I will my Liege, as I live.  King. 
Who servest thou under?  Will. 
Under Captain Gower, my Liege.  Flu. 
Gower is a good Captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in the Wars.  King. 
Call him hither to me, Soldier.  Will. 
I will my Liege.  Exit. King. 
Here Fluellen, wear thou this favour for me, and stick it in thy Cap: when Alencon and myself were down together, I plackt 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, and thou dost me love.  Flu. 
Your Grace does 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 agreesd at this Glove; that is all: but I would fain see it once, and please God of his grace that I might see.  King. 
knowst thou Gower?  Flu. 
He is my dear friend, and please you.  King. 
Pray thee go seek him, and bring him to my Tent.  Flu. 
I will fetch him.  Exit. King. 
My Lord of Warwick, and my Brother Gloster,  
Fellow Fluellen closely at the heels.  
The Glove which I have given him for a favour,  
May haply purchase him a box o' th' care.  
It is the Soldiers: I by bargain should  
Wear it myself. Fellow 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.  
Fellow, and see there be no harm between them.  
Go you with me, Uncle of Exeter.  Exeunt. Enter Gower and William's. Will. 
I warrant it is to Knight you, Captain.  Enter Fluellen. Flu. 
God's will, and his pleasure, Captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the King: there is more good toward you peradventure, then is in your knowledge to dream of.  Will. 
Sir, know you this Glove?  Flu. 
Know the Glove? I know the Glove is a Glove.  Will. 
I know this, and thus I challenge it.  Strikes him. Flu. 
'Sbl●d, an arrant Traitor as any's in the Universal World, or in France, or in England.  Gower. 
How now Sir? you Villain.  Will. 
Do you think I'll be forsworn?  Flu. 
Stand away Captain Gower, I will give Treason his payment into ploughs, I warrant you.  Will. 
I am no Traitor.  Flu. 
That's a Lie in thy Throat. I charge you in his Majesty's Name apprehend him, he's a friend of the Duke Alansons.  Enter Warwick and Gloucester. Warw. 
How now, how now, what's the matter?  Flu. 
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 and Exeter. King. 
How now, what's the matter?  Flu. 
My Liege, here is a Villain, and a Traitor, that look your Grace, has strooke the Glove which your Majesty is take out of the Helmet of Alencon.  Will. 
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.  Flu. 
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. 
Give me thy Glove Soldier;  
Look, here is the fellow of it:  
'Twas I indeed thou promisedest to strike,  
And thou hast given me most bitter terms.  Flu. 
And please your Majesty, let his Neck answer for it, if there is any marshal Law in the World.  King. 
How canst thou make me satisfaction?  Will. 
All offences, my Lord, come from the heart: never came any from mine, that might offend your Majesty.  King. 
It was ourself thou didst abuse.  Will. 
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. 
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.  Flu. 
By this Day and this Light, the fellow has mettle enough in his belly: Hold, there is twelvepences for you, and I pray you to serve God, and keep you out of prawles and prabbles, and quarrels and dissensions, and I warrant you it is the better for you.  Will. 
I will none of your Money.  Flu. 
It is with a good will: I can tell you it will serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore should you be so pashfull, your shoes is not so good: 'tis a good shilling I warrant you, or I will change it.  Enter Herald. King. 
Now Herald, are the dead numbered?  Herald. 
here is the number of the slaughtered French.  King. 
What Prisoners of good sort are taken, Uncle?  Exe. 
Charles Duke of Orleans, Nephew to the King,  
john Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouchiquald:  
Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and Squires,  
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.  King. 
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 dubbed 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 Chatilion, Admiral of France,  
The Master of the Crossbows, Lord Rambures,  
Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin,  
john Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant,  
The Brother to the Duke of Burgundy,  
And Edward Duke of Barr: of lusty Earls,  
Grandpree and Roussie, Fauconbridge and Foyes,  
Beaumond and Marle, Vandemont and Lestrake.  
Here was a Royal fellowship of death.  
Where is the number of our English dead?  
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 th' other, take it God,  
For it is none but thine.  Exet. 
'Tis wonderful.  King. 
Come, go me in procession to the Village:  
And be it death proclaimed through our Host,  
To boast of this, or take that praise from God,  
Which is his only.  Flu. 
Is it not lawful and please your Majesty, to tell how many is killed?  King. 
Yes Captain: but with this acknowledgement,  
That God fought for us.  Flu. 
Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.  King. 
Do we all holy Rights:  
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.  

Actus Quintus.  Enter 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 th' 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, Wives, and Boys,  
Whose shouts & claps out-voyce the deepmouthed 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 Black-Heath:  
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 th' antique Rome,  
With the Plebeians swarming at their heels,  
Go forth and fetch their Conquering Caesar in:  
As by a lower, but by 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, what ever chanced,  
Till Harry's back return again to France:  
There must we bring him; and myself have played  
The interim, by remembering you 'tis past.  
Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance,  
After your thoughts, strait back again to France.  Exit. Enter Fluellen and Gower. Gower. 
Nay, that's right: but why wear you your Leek to day? S. davies day is past.  Flu. 
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you ass my friend, Captain Gower; the rascally, scauld, beggarly, lousy, bragging Knave Pistol, which you and yourself, and all the World, know to be no better than a fellow, look you now, of no merits: he is come to me, and brings me bread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my Leek: it was in a 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 Turkeycock.  Flu. 
'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his Turkeycocks. God pless you ancient Pistol: you scurvy lousy Knave, God pless you.  Pissed. 
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.  Flu. 
I beseech you hearty, 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 disgestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.  Pissed. 
Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats.  Flu. 
There is one Goat for you.  Strikes him. 
Will you be so good, scauld Knave, as eat it?  Pissed. 
Base Trojan, thou shalt dye.  Flu. 
You say very true, scauld Knave, when Gods will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your Victuals: come, there is sauce for it. You called me yesterday Mountaine-Squier, but I will make you to day a squire of low degree. I pray you fall too, if you can mock a Leek, you can eat a Leek.  Gour. 
Enough Captain, you have astonished him.  Flu. 
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 ploodie Coxcomb.  Pissed. 
Must I bite.  Flu. 
Yes certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities.  Pissed. 
By this Leek, I will most horribly revenge I eat and eat I swear.  Flu. 
Eat I pray you, will you have some more sauce to your Leek: there is not enough Leek to swear by.  Pissed. 
Quiet thy Cudgel, thou dost see I eat.  Flu. 
Much good do you scald knave, hearty. 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.  Pissed. 
Good.  Flu. 
I, Leeks is good: hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.  Pissed. 
Me a groat?  Flu 
Yes verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I have another Leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.  Pissed. 
I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.  Flu. 
If I own you any thing, I will pay you in Cudgels, you shall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels: God bye you, and keep you, & heal your pate.  Exit Pissed. 
All hell shall stir for this.  Gow. 
Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knave, will you mock at an ancient Tradition began upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable Trophy of pre-deceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words. I have seen you gleeking & 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, far ye well.  Exit Pissed. 
Doth fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I that my Doll is dead i' th' Spittle of a malady of France, and there my rendezvous is quite cut off: Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs honour is Cudgeled. 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 cudgeled scars,  
And swore I got them in the Gallia wars.  Exit. Enter at one door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwick, and other Lords. At another, Queen Isabel, the King, the Duke of Bourgougne, and other French. King. 
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 Katherine:  
And as a branch and member of this Royalty,  
By whom this great assembly is contrived,  
We do salute you Duke o● Burgogne,  
And Princes French and Peers health to you all.  〈◊〉. 
Right joyous are we to behold your face.  
Most worthy brother England, fairly met,  
So are you Princes (English) every one.  Quee. 
So happy be the Issue brother Ireland  
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.  Eng. 
To cry A men to that, thus we appear.  Quee. 
You English Princes all, I do salute you.  Burg. 
My duty to you both, on equal love.  
Great Kings of France and England: that I have laboured  
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 than my Office hath so fare prevailed,  
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, Plenty's, 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 it own fertility.  
Her Vine, the merry chearer of the heart,  
Vnpruned, dies: her Hedges even pleached,  
Like Prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,  
Put forth disordered Twigs: her fallow Leas,  
The Darnell, Hemlock, and ●anke Femetary,  
Doth too● 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 Sith, withal uncorrected, rank;  
Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems,  
But hateful Docks, rough Thistles, Keksyes, Burrs,  
Losing both beauty and utility;  
And all 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, defused 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.  Eng. 
If Duke of Burgonie, you would the Peace,  
Whose want gives growth to th' 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.  Burg. 
The King hath heard them: to the which, as yet  
There is no Answer made.  Eng. 
Well then: the Peace which you before so urged,  
Lies in his Answer.  France. 
I have but with a curselarie eye  
O're-glanced the Articles: Pleaseth your Grace  
To appoint some of your Council presently  
To sit with us once more, with better heed  
To re-suruey them; we will suddenly  
Pass our accept and peremptory Answer.  England. 
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?  Quee. 
Our gracious Brother, I will go with them:  
Happily a Woman's Voice may do some good,  
When Articles too nicely urged, be stood on.  England. 
Yet leave our Cousin Katherine here with us,  
She is our capital Demand, comprised  
Within the fore-ranke of our Articles.  Quee. 
She hath good leave.  Exeunt omnes. Manet King and Katherine. King. 
Fair Katherine, 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.  Kath. 
Your Majesty shall mock at me, I cannot speak your England.  King. 
O fair Katherine, if you will love me sound with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English Tongue. Do you like me, Kate?  Kath. 
Pardonne moy, I cannot tell what is like me.  King. 
An Angel is like you Kate, and you are like an Angel.  Kath. 
Que dit il que je suis semblable a les Anges?  Lady. 
Ouy verayment (safe vostre Grace) ainsi dit il.  King. 
I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.  Kath. 
O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont plein de tromperies.  King. 
What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are full of deceits?  Lady. 
Ouy, dat de tongues of the man's is be full of deceits: that is de Princess.  King. 
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, then 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?  Kath. 
Sauf vostre honeur, me understand well.  King. 
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 Leapfrog, 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 greenely, 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 Sunne-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 dye, is true; but for thy love, by the L. No: yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoyned 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 Lady's savours, 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 whither, 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.  Kath. 
Is it possible that I sold love the enemy of France?  King. 
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.  Kath. 
I cannot tell what is dat.  King. 
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 shaken off; je quand sur le possession de France, & quand vous aues le possession de moy. (Let me see, what then? Saint Dennis be my speed) Donc vostre est France, & vous estes 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.  Kath. 
Sauf vostre honeur, le Francois ques vous parleys, i'll & melieus que l' Anglois le quel je parle.  King. 
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?  Kath. 
I cannot tell.  King. 
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 be'st mine, Kate, as I have a saving Faith within me tells me thou shalt; I get thee with skambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good Souldier-breeder: Shall not thou and I, between Saint Dennis 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.  Kate. 
I do not know dat.  King. 
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 Katherine du monde mon trescher & devin deesse.  Kath. 
Your majesty have fause French enough to deceive the most sage Damoiscil that is en France.  King. 
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 gins to flatter me, that thou dost; notwithstanding the poor and untempered 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 Katherine, 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 Henry 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, Katherine, break thy mind to me in broken English; wilt thou have me?  Kath. 
Dat is as it shall please de Roy mon pere.  King. 
Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.  Kath. 
Den it fall also content me.  King. 
Upon that I kiss your Hand, and I call you my Queen.  Kath. 
Laisse mon Seigneur, laisse, laisse, may foy: je ne veus point que vous abbaisse vostre grandeus, en baisant le main d'une nostre Seigneur indignie seruiteur excuse moy. je vous supplie mon tres-puissant Seigneur.  King. 
Then I will kiss your Lips, Kate.  Kath. 
Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baisee devant leur nopcese il net pas le costume de France.  King. 
Madame, my Interpreter, what says she?  Lady. 
Dat it is not be the fashion pour le Ladies of France; I cannot tell what is buisse en Anglish.  King. 
To kiss.  Lady. 
Your majesty entendre bettre que moy.  King. 
It is not a fashion for the Maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say?  Lady. 
Ouy verayment.  King. 
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 finde-faults, as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your Country, in denying me a Kiss: therefore patiently, and yielding. You have Witchcraft in your Lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in a Sugar touch of them, then in the Tongues of the French Council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general Petition of Monarches. here comes your Father.  Enter the French Power, and the English Lords. Burg. 
God save your Majesty, my Royal Cousin, teach you our Princess English?  King. 
I would have her learn, my fair Cousin, how perfectly I love her, and that is good English.  Burg. 
Is she not apt?  King. 
Our Tongue is rough, Cousin, 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.  Burg. 
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. 
Yet they do wink and yield, as Love is blind and enforces.  Burg. 
They are then excused, my Lord, when they see not what they do.  King. 
Then good my Lord, teach your Cousin to consent winking.  Burg. 
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-tyde, blind, though they have their eyes, and then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on.  King. 
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 to.  Burg. 
As Love is my Lord, before it love's.  King. 
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 gyrdled with Maiden Walls, that War hath entered.  England. 
Shall Kate be my Wife?  France. 
So please you.  England. 
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.  France. 
We have consented to all terms of reason.  England. 
Is't so, my Lords of England?  West. 
The King hath granted every Article:  
His Daughter first; and in sequel, all,  
According to their firm proposed natures.  Exet. 
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: Nostre trescher filz Henry Roy d' Angleterre Heretere de France: and thus in Latin; Praeclarissimus Filius noster Henricus Rex Angliae & Heres Franciae. France. 
Nor this I have not Brother so denied,  
But your request shall make me let it pass.  England. 
I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,  
Let that one Article rank with the rest,  
And thereupon give me your Daughter.  France. 
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 others happiness,  
May cease their hatred; and this dear Conjunction  
Plant Neighbourhood and Christianlike accord  
In their sweet Bosoms: that never War advance  
His bleeding Sword 'twixt England and fair France.  Lords. 
Amen.  King. 
Now welcome Kate: and bear me witness all,  
That here I kiss her as my Sovereign Queen.  Flourish. Quee. 
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 Pation 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. 
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.  Senet. Exeunt. Enter Chorus. 
Thus fare 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 he achieved:  
And of it left his Son Imperial Lord.  
Henry the sixth, in Infant Bands crowned 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.   
FINIS.   

The first Part of Henry the Sixt.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Dead March. Enter the Funeral of King Henry the Fift, attended on by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloster, Protector; the Duke of Exeter Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset. Bedford. 
HVng 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 Fift, too famous to live long,  
England ne'er lost a King of so much worth.  Glost. 
England ne'er had a King until his time:  
Virtue he had, deserving to command,  
His brandished Sword did blind men with his beams,  
His Arms spread wider than a Dragon's Wings:  
His sparkling Eyes, replete with wrathful fire,  
More dazzled and driven back his Enemies,  
Then midday Sun, fierce bent against their faces.  
What should I say? his Deeds exceed all speech:  
He ne'er lift up his Hand, but conquered.  Exe. 
We mourn in black, why mourn we not in blood?  
Henry is dead, and never shall revive:  
Upon a Wooden Coffin we attend;  
And Deaths 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 Glories overthrew?  
Or shall we think the subtle-witted French,  
Conjurers and Sorcerers, that afraid of him,  
By Magic Verses have contrived his end.  Winch. 
He was a King, blessed 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.  Glost. 
The Church? where is it?  
Had not Churchmen prayed,  
His thread of Life had not so soon decayed.  
None do you like, but an effeminate Prince,  
Whom like a Schoolboy you may over-awe.  Winch. 
Gloster, what ere 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.  Glost. 
Name not Religion, for thou lov'st the Flesh,  
And ne'er throughout the year to Church thou go'st,  
Except it be to pray against thy foes.  Bed. 
Cease, cease these jars, & rest your minds in peace:  
Let's to the Altar: Heralds wait on us;  
In stead 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 Mother's moistened eyes, Babes shall suck,  
Our Isle be made a Nourish of salt Tears,  
And none but Women left to wail the dead.  
Henry the Fift, thy Ghost I invocate:  
Prosper this Realm, keep it from Civil Broils,  
Combat with adverse Planets in the Heavens;  
A fare more glorious Star thy Soul will make,  
Then julius Caesar, bright—  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
My honourable Lords, health to you all:  
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,  
Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture:  
Guienne, Champagne, Rheimes, Orleans,  
Paris, Guysors, Poitiers, are all quite lost.  Bedf. 
What sayest thou man, before dead Henry's Coarse?  
Speak softly, or the loss of those great Towns  
Will make him burst his Lead, and rise from death.  Glost. 
Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up?  
If Henry were recalled to life again,  
These news would cause him once more yield the Ghost.  Exe. 
How were they lost? what treachery was used?  Mess. 
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 dispatched 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 obtained.  
Awake, awake, English Nobility,  
Let not sloth dim your Honours, new begot;  
Cropped are the Flower-de-luces' in your Arms  
Of England's Coat, one half is cut away.  Exe. 
Were our Tears wanting to this Funeral,  
These Tidings would call forth her flowing Tides.  Bedf. 
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, in stead of Eyes,  
To weep their intermissive Miseries.  Enter to them another Messenger. Mess. 
Lords view these Letters, full of bad mischance.  
France is revolted from the English quite,  
Except some petty Towns, of no import.  
The Dolphin Charles is crowned King in Rheimes:  
The Bastard of Orleans with him is joined:  
Reynold, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part,  
The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side.  Exit. Exe. 
The Dolphin crowned King? all fly to him?  
O whither shall we fly from this reproach?  Glost. 
We will not fly, but to our enemy's throats.  
Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.  Bed. 
Gloster, why doubtst thou of my forwardness?  
An Army have I mustered in my thoughts,  
Wherewith already France is overrun.  Enter another Messenger. Mes. 
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.  Win. 
What? wherein Talbot overcame, is't so?  3. Mes. 
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 enranke his men.  
He wanted Pikes to set before his Archers:  
In stead whereof, sharp Stakes plucked 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 humane 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 slew.  
The French exclaimed, 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 rushed into the Bowels of the Battle.  
Here had the Conquest fully been sealed up,  
If Sir john Falstaff had not played the Coward.  
He being in the Vauward, placed behind,  
With purpose to relieve and follow them,  
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.  
Hence grew the general wrack and massacre:  
Enclosed were they with their Enemies.  
A base Wallon, to win the Dolphin'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.  Bedf. 
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 foe-men is betrayed.  3. Mess. 
O no, he life's, but is taken Prisoner,  
And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford:  
Most of the rest slaughtered, or took likewise.  Bedf. 
His Ransom there is none but I shall pay.  
I'll hale the Dolphin 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.  3. Mess. 
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.  Exe. 
Remember Lords your Oaths to Henry sworn:  
Either to quell the Dolphin utterly,  
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.  Bedf. 
I do remember it, and here take my leave,  
To go about my preparation.  Exit Bedford. Glost. 
I'll to the Tower with all the hast I can,  
To view th' Artillery and Munition,  
And then I will proclaim young Henry King.  Exit Gloster. Exe. 
To Eltam will I, where the young King is,  
Being ordained his special Governor,  
And for his safety there I'll best device.  Exit. Winch. 
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 Eltam I intent to send.  
And sit at chiefest Stern of public Weal.  Exit. Sound a Flourish. Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir, 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 famished English, like pale Ghosts,  
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.  Alan. 
They want their Porridge, & their fat Bul Beefs:  
Either they must be dieted like Mules,  
And have their Provender tied to their mouths,  
Or piteous they will look, like drowned Mice.  Reigneir. 
Let's raise the Siege: why live we idly here?  
Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:  
Remaineth none but mad-brayned Salisbury,  
And he may well in fretting spend his gall,  
Nor men nor Money hath he to make War.  Charles. 
Sound, sound Alarm, 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 Alarm, they are beaten back by the English, with great loss. Enter Charles, Alarson, and Reigneir. 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.  Reigneir. 
Salisbury is a desperate Homicide,  
He fighteth as one weary of his life:  
The other Lords, like Lion's wanting food,  
Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.  Alencon. 
Froysard, a Countryman of ours, records,  
England all Olivers' and Roland's breed,  
During the time Edward the third did reign:  
More truly now may this be verified;  
For none but Samsons and Goliasses  
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 hayre-brayned 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, then forsake the Siege.  Reigneir. 
I think by some odd Gimmors or Device  
Their Arms are set, like Clocks, still 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. 
Where's the Prince Dolphin? I have news for him.  Dolph. 
Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.  Bast. 
Me thinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled.  
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?  
Be not dismayed, for succour 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  Dolph. 
Go call her in: but first, to try her skill,  
Reignier stand thou as Dolphin in my place;  
Question her proudly, let thy Looks be stern,  
By this means shall we found what skill she hath.  Enter joane Pucelle. Reigneir. 
Fair Maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?  Pucelle. 
Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?  
Where is the Dolphin? 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 a while.  Reigneir. 
She takes upon her bravely at first dash.  Pucelle. 
Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepherd's Daughter,  
My wit vntrayned 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 displayed my cheeks,  
God's Mother deigned to appear to me,  
And in a Vision full of Majesty,  
Willed me to leave my base Vocation,  
And free my Country from Calamity:  
Her aid she promised, and assured success.  
In complete Glory she revealed herself:  
And whereas I was black and swart before,  
With those clear Rays, which she infused on me,  
That beauty am I blessed with, which you may 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.  Dolph. 
Thou hast astonished 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.  Pucelle. 
I am prepared: here is my keen-edged Sword,  
Decked with fine Flower-de-luces' on each side,  
The which at Touraine, in S. Katherine's Churchyard,  
Out of a great deal of old Iron, I chose forth.  Dolph. 
Then come a God's name, I fear no woman.  Pucelle. 
And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man.  Here they fight, and joane de Pucelle overcomes. Dolph. 
Stay, stay thy hands, thou art an Amazon,  
And fightest with the Sword of Deborah.  Pucelle. 
Christ's Mother helps me, else I were too weak.  Dolph. 
Who e'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 Dolphin sueth to thee thus.  Pucelle. 
I must not yield to any rights 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.  Dolph. 
Mean time look gracious on thy prostrate Thrall.  Reigneir. 
My Lord me thinks is very long in talk.  alan's. 
Doubtless he shrives' this woman to her smock,  
Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech.  Reigneir. 
Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?  Alan. 
He may mean more than we poor men do know,  
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.  Reigneir. 
My Lord, where are you? what device you on?  
Shall we give o'er Orleans, or no?  Pucelle. 
Why no, I say: distrustful Recreants,  
Fight till the last gasp: I'll be your guard.  Dolph. 
What she says, I'll confirm: we'll fight it out.  Pucelle. 
Assigned am I to be the English Scourge.  
This night the Siege assuredly I'll raise:  
Expect Saint Martin's Summer, haltions 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 naught.  
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.  Dolph. 
Was Mahomet inspired with a Dove?  
Thou with an Eagle art inspired then.  
Helen, the Mother of Great Constantine,  
Nor yet S. 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.  Reigneir. 
Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours,  
Drive them from Orleans, and be immortalised.  Dolph. 
Presently we'll try: come, let's away about it,  
No Prophet will I trust, if she prove false.  Exeunt. Enter Gloster, with his Servingmen. Glost. 
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 Gloster that calls.  1. Warder. 
Who's there, that knocks so imperiously?  Glost. 1. Man. 
It is the Noble Duke of Gloster.  2. Warder. 
Who ere he be, you may not be let in.  1. Man. 
Villains, answer you so the Lord Protector?  1. Warder. 
The Lord protect him, so we answer him,  
We do no otherwise then we are willed.  Glost. 
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 warrantise;  
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill Groomes?  Gloucester's men rush at the Tower Gates, and Wooduile the Lieutenant speaks within. Wooduile. 
What noise is this? what Traitors have we here?  Glost. 
Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?  
Open the Gates, here's Gloster that would enter.  Wooduile. 
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.  Glost. 
Faint-hearted Wooduile, 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.  Servingmen. 
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, Winchester and his men in Tawny Coats. Winchest. 
How now ambitious Vmpheir, what means this?  Glost. 
Pieled Priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?  Winch. 
I do, thou most usurping Proditor,  
And not Protector of the King or Realm.  Glost. 
Stand back thou manifest Conspirator,  
Thou that contriued'st to murder our dead Lord,  
Thou that giv'st Whores Indulgences to sin,  
I'll canvas thee in thy broad Cardinal's Hat,  
If thou proceed in this thy insolence.  Winch. 
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.  Glost. 
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.  Winch. 
Do what thou darest, I beard thee to thy face.  Glost. 
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 sound.  
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.  Winch. 
Gloster, thou wilt answer this before the Pope.  Glost. 
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 Tawney-Coates, out Scarlet Hypocrite.  Here Gloucester's men beat out the Cardinal's men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London, and his Officers. Maior. 
Fie Lords, that you being supreme. Magistrates,  
Thus contumeliously should break the Peace.  Glost. 
Peace Maior, thou knowst little of my wrongs:  
Here's Beauford, that regards nor God nor King,  
Hath here distrayned the Tower to his use.  Winch. 
Here's Gloster, a Foe to Citizens,  
One that still motions War, and never Peace,  
O're-charging your free Purses with large Fines;  
That seeks to overthrew 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.  Glost. 
I will not answer thee with words, but blows.  Here they skirmish again. Maior. 
Naught rests for me, in this tumultuous strife,  
But to make open Proclamation.  
Come Officer, as loud as e'er thou canst, cry:  All manner of men, assembled here in Arms this day, against God's Peace and the Kings, 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. Glost. 
Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the Law:  
But we shall meet, and break our minds at large.  Winch. 
Gloster, we'll meet to thy cost, be sure:  
Thy heartblood I will have for this day's work.  Maior. 
I'll call for Clubs, if you will not away:  
This cardinal's more haughty than the Devil.  Glost. 
Maior farewell: thou dost but what thou may'st.  Winch. 
Abominable Gloster, guard thy Head,  
For I intent to have it ere long.  Exeunt. Maior. 
See the Coast cleared, and then we will departed.  
Good God, these Nobles should such stomaches bear,  
I myself fight not once in forty year.  Exeunt. Enter the Master Gunner of Orleans, and his Boy. M. Gunner. 
Sirrah, thou knowst how Orleans is besieged,  
And how the English have the Suburbs won.  Boy. 
Father I know, and oft have shot at them,  
How e'er unfortunate, I missed my aim.  M. 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 espyals have informed me,  
How the English, in the Suburbs close entrenched,  
Went through a secret Grate of Iron Bars,  
In yonder Tower, to over-peere 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 watched,  
If I could see them. Now do thou watch,  
For I can stay no longer.  
If thou spiest any, run and bring me word,  
And thou shalt find me at the Governors.  Exit. Boy. 
Father, I warrant you, take you no care,  
I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.  Exit. Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the Turrets, with others. Salisb. 
Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned?  
How wert thou handled, being Prisoner?  
Or by what means gots thou to be released?  
Discourse I prithee on this Turret's top.  Talbot. 
The Earl of Bedford had a Prisoner,  
Called the brave Lord Ponton de Sautrayle,  
For him was I exchanged, and ransomed.  
But with a base man of Arms by fare,  
Once in contempt they would have bartered me:  
Which I disdaining, scorned, and craved death,  
Rather than I would be so piled esteemed:  
In fine, redeemed I was as I desired.  
But O, the treacherous Falstaff wounds my heart,  
Whom with my bare fists I would execute,  
If I now had him brought into my power.  Salisb. 
Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertained.  Tal. 
With scoffs and scorns, and contumelious taunts,  
In open Marketplace 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 digged 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 deemed me not secure:  
So great fear of my Name 'mongst them were 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. Salisb. 
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 Glandsdale,  
Let me have your express opinions,  
Where is best place to make our Battery next?  Gargrave. 
I think at the North Gate, for there stands Lords.  Glansdale. 
And 〈◊〉 here, at the Bulwark of the Bridge.  Talb. 
For aught I see, this City must be famished,  
Or with light Skirmishes enfeebled.  Here they shot, and Salisbury falls down. Salisb. 
O Lord have mercy on us, wretched sinners.  Gargrave. 
O Lord have mercy on me, woeful man.  Talb. 
What chance is this, that suddenly hath crossed us?  
Speak Salisbury; at least, if thou canst, speak:  
How farest thou, Mirror of all Martial men?  
One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheeks side struck off?  
Accursed Tower, accursed fatal Hand,  
That hath contrived this woeful Tragedy.  
In thirteen Battles, Salisbury o' recame:  
Henry the Fift he first trained 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 dye 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,  
Play on the Lute, beholding the Towns burn:  
Wretched shall France be only in my Name.  Here an Alarm, and it Thunders and Lightens. 
What stir is this? what tumult's in the Heavens?  
Whence cometh this Alarm, and the noise?  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
My Lord, my Lord, the French have gathered head,  
The Dolphin, with one joane de Pucelle joined,  
A holy Prophetess, new risen up,  
Is come with a great Power, to raise the Siege.  Here Salisbury lifteth himself up, and groans. Talb. 
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 Pussel, 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.  Alarm. Exeunt. Here an Alarm again, and Talbot pursueth the Dolphin, and driveth him: Then enter joane de Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter Talbot. Talb. 
Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?  
Our English Troops retire, I cannot stay them,  
A Woman clad in Armour chaseth them.  Enter 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.  Pucelle. 
Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.  Here they fight. Talb. 
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 highminded Strumpet.  They fight again. Pucelle. 
Talbot farewell, thy hour is not yet come,  
I must go victual Orleans forthwith:  A short Alarm: then enter the Town with Soldiers. 
O'ertake me if thou canst, I scorn thy strength.  
Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starued men,  
Help Salisbury to make his Testament,  
This Day is ours, as many more shall be.  Exit. Talb. 
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 called us, for our fierceness, English Dogs,  
Now like to Whelps, we crying run away,  A short Alarm. 
Hark Countrymen, either renew the fight,  
Or tear the Lions out of England's Coat;  
Renounce your Soil, give Sheep in Lion's 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.  Alarm. Here another Skirmish. 
It will not be, retire into your Trenches:  
You all consented unto Salisburies' death,  
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.  
Pucelle is entered into Orleans,  
In spite of us, or aught that we could do.  
O would I were to dye with Salisbury,  
The shame hereof, will make me hide my head.  Exit Talbot. Alarm, Retreat, Flourish. Enter on the Walls, Pucelle, Dolphin, Reigneir, Alencon, and Soldiers. Pucelle. 
Advance our waving Colours on the Walls,  
Rescued is Orleans from the English.  
Thus joane de Pucelle hath performed her word.  Dolph. 
Divinest Creature, Astrea's Daughter,  
How shall I honour thee for this success?  
Thy promises are like Adonis' Garden,  
That one day bloomed, and fruitful were the next.  
France, triumph in thy glorious Prophetess,  
Recovered is the Town of Orleans,  
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our State.  Reigneir. 
Why ring not out the Bells aloud,  
Throughout the Town?  
Dolphin command the Citizens make Bonfires,  
And feast and banquet in the open streets,  
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.  alan's. 
All France will be replete with mirth and joy,  
When they shall hear how we have played the men.  Dolph. 
'Tis joane, 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 statelyer Pyramid to her I'll rear,  
Then Rhodophe's or Memphis ever was.  
In memory of her, when she is dead,  
Her Ashes, in an Urn more precious  
Than the rich-ieweled Coffer of Darius,  
Transported, shall be at high Festivals  
Before the Kings and Queens of France.  
No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,  
But joane de Pucelle shall be France's Saint.  
Come in, and let us Banquet Royally,  
After this Golden Day of Victory.  Flourish. Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter a Sergeant of a Band, with two sentines. Ser. 
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.  Sent. 
Sergeant you shall. Thus are poor Servitors  
(When others sleep upon their quiet beds)  
Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.  Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling Ladders: Their Drums beating a Dead March. Tal. 
Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,  
By whose approach, the Regions of Artoys,  
Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us:  
This happy night, the Frenchmen are secure,  
Having all day carowsed and banqueted,  
Embrace we then this opportunity,  
As fitting best to quittance their deceit,  
Contrived by Art, and baleful Sorcery.  Bed. 
Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,  
Despairing of his own arms fortitude,  
To join with Witches, and help of Hell.  Bur. 
Traitors have never other company.  
But what's that puzel whom they tear me so pure?  Tal. 
A Maid, they say.  Bed. 
A Maid? And be so martial?  Bur. 
Pray God she prove not masculine ere long:  
If underneath the Standard of the French  
She carry Armour, as she hath begun.  Tal. 
Well, let them practise and converse with spirits.  
God is our Fortress, in whose conquering name  
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.  Bed. 
Ascend brave Talbot, we will follow thee.  Tal. 
Not altogether: Better fare 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.  Bed. 
Agreed; I'll to yond corner.  Bur. 
And I to this.  Tal. 
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.  Sent. 
Arm, arm, the enemy doth make assault.  Cry, S. George, A Talbot. The French leap o'er the walls in their shirts. Enter several ways, Bastard, Alanson, Reignier, half ready, and half unready. Alan. 
How now my Lords? What all unready so?  Bast. 
Unready? I and glad we scaped so well.  Reig. 
'Twas time (I trow) to wake and leave our beds,  
Hearing Alarms at our Chamber doors.  Alan. 
Of all exploits since first I followed Arms,  
Near heard I of a warlike enterprise  
More venturous, or desperate than this.  Bast. 
I think this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell.  Reig. 
If not of Hell, the Heaven's sure favour him.  alan's. 
Here cometh Charles, I marvel how he sped?  Enter Charles and joane. Bast. 
Tut, holy joane was his defensive Guard.  Charl. 
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?  joane. 
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.  Charl. 
Duke of Alencon, this was your default,  
That being Captain of the Watch to Night,  
Did look no better to that weighty Charge.  alan's. 
Had all your Quarters been as safely kept,  
As that whereof I had the government,  
We had not been thus shamefully surprised.  Bast. 
Mine was secure.  Reig. 
And so was mine, my Lord.  Charl. 
And for myself, most part of all this Night  
Within her Quarter, and mine own Precinct,  
I was employed in passing to and fro,  
About relieving of the Sentinels.  
Then how, or which way, should they first break in?  joane. 
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, scattered and dispersed,  
And lay new Platforms to endamage them.  Exeunt. Alarm. Enter a Soldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot: they sly, leaving their Clothes behind. Sould. 
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. Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy. Bedf. 
The Day gins to break, and Night is fled,  
Whose pitchy Mantle ouer-vayled the Earth.  
Here sound Retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.  Retreat. Talb. 
Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury,  
And here advance it in the Marketplace,  
The middle Centure 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 to night.  
And that hereafter Ages may behold  
What ruin happened in revenge of him,  
Within their chiefest Temple I'll erect  
A Tomb, wherein his Corpse shall be interred:  
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 Dolphin's Grace,  
His new-come Champion, virtuous joane of Acre,  
Nor any of his false Confederates.  Bedf. 
'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.  Burg. 
Myself, as fare as I could well discern,  
For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night,  
Am sure I scared the Dolphin 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. Mess. 
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?  Talb. 
Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him?  Mess. 
The virtuous Lady, Countess of Ouergne,  
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.  Burg. 
Is it even so? Nay, than I see our Wars  
Will turn unto a peaceful Comic sport,  
When Ladies crave to be encountered with.  
You may not (my Lord) despise her gentle suit.  Talb. 
ne'er trust me then: for when a World of men  
Can not prevail with all their Oratory,  
Yet hath a Woman's kindness overruled:  
And therefore tell her, I return great thankes,  
And in submission will attend on her.  
Will not your Honours bear me company?  Bedf. 
No, truly, 'tis more than manners will:  
And I have heard it said, Unbidden Guests  
Are often welcomest when they are gone.  Talb. 
Well then, alone (since there's no remedy)  
I mean to prove this Lady's courtesy.  
Come hither Captain, you perceive my mind.  Whispers. Capt. 
I do my Lord, and mean accordingly.  Exeunt. Enter Countess. Count. 
Porter, remember what I gave in charge,  
And when you have done so, bring the Keys to me.  Port. 
Madame, I will.  Exit. Count. 
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 rumour of this dreadful Knight,  
And his achievements of no less account:  
Feign would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,  
To give their censure of these rare reports.  Enter Messenger and Talbot. Mess. 
Madame, according as your Ladyship desired,  
By Message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.  Count. 
And he is welcome: what? is this the man?  Mess. 
Madame, it is.  Count. 
Is this the Scourge of France?  
Is this the Talbot, so much feared 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.  Talb. 
Madame, I have been bold to trouble you:  
But since your Ladyship is not at leisure,  
I'll sort some other time to visit you.  Count. 
What means he now?  
Go ask him, whither he goes?  Mess. 
Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craves,  
To know the cause of your abrupt departure?  Talb. 
Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,  
I go to certify her Talbot's here.  Enter Porter with Keys. Count. 
If thou be he, than art thou Prisoner.  Talb. 
Prisoner? to whom?  Count. 
To me, bloodthirsty 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 captivated.  Talb. 
Ha', ha', ha'.  Count. 
Laughest thou Wretch?  
Thy mirth shall turn to moan.  Talb. 
I laugh to see your Ladyship so fond,  
To think, that you have aught but Talbots shadow,  
Whereon to practise your severity.  Count. 
Why? art not thou the man?  Talb. 
I am indeed.  Count. 
Then have I substance too.  Talb. 
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 Madame, were the whole Frame here,  
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,  
Your Roof were not sufficient to contained.  Count. 
This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce,  
He will be here, and yet he is not here:  
How can these contrarieties agree?  Talb. 
That will I show you presently.  Winds his Horn, Drums strike up, a Peal of Ordnance: Enter Soldiers. 
How say you Madame? are you now persuaded,  
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?  
These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength,  
With which he yoaketh your rebellious Necks,  
Razeth your Cities, and subverts your Towns,  
And in a moment makes them desolate.  Count. 
Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse,  
I find thou art no less than Fame hath bruited,  
And more than may be gathered 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.  Talb. 
Be not dismayed, 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 Soldier's stomaches always serve them well.  Count. 
With all my heart, and think me honoured,  
To feast so great a Warrior in my House.  Exeunt. Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Summersault, Poole, and others. York. 
Great Lords and Gentlemen,  
What means this silence?  
Dare no man answer in a Case of Truth?  Suff. 
Within the Temple Hall we were too loud,  
The Garden here is more convenient.  York. 
Then say at once, if I maintained the Truth:  
Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error?  Suff. 
Faith I have been a Traunt in the Law,  
And never yet could frame my will to it,  
And therefore frame the Law unto my will.  Som. 
judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then between us.  War. 
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 merryest 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.  York. 
Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:  
The truth appears so naked on my side,  
That any purblind eye may find it out.  Som. 
And on my side it is so well apparelled,  
So clear, so shining, and so evident,  
That it will glimmer through a blindman's eye.  York. 
Since you are tongue-tied, and so loath to speak,  
In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts:  
Let him that is a trueborn Gentleman,  
And stands upon the honour of his birth,  
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,  
From off this Briar pluck a white Rose with me.  Som. 
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.  War. 
I love no Colours: and without all colour  
Of base insinuating flattery,  
I pluck this white Rose with Plantagenet.  Suff. 
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 cropped from the Tree,  
Shall yield the other in the right opinion.  Som. 
Good Master Vernon, it is well objected:  
If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.  York. 
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.  Som. 
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.  Som. 
Well, well, come on, who else?  Lawyer. 
Unless my Study and my Books be false,  
The argument you held, was wrong in you;  
In sign whereof, I pluck a white Rose too.  York. 
Now Somerset, where is your argument?  Som. 
Here in my Scabbard, meditating, that  
Shall dye your white Rose in a bloody red.  York. 
Mean time your cheeks do counterfeit our Roses:  
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing  
The truth on our side.  Som. 
No Plantagenet:  
'Tis not for scare, but anger, that thy cheeks  
Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our Roses,  
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.  York. 
Hath not thy Rose a Canker, Somerset?  Som. 
Hath not thy Rose a Thorn, Plantagenet?  York. 
I, sharp and piercing to maintain his truth,  
Whiles thy consuming Canker eats his falsehood.  Som. 
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.  York. 
Now by this Maiden Blossom in my hand,  
I scorn thee and thy fashion peevish Boy.  Suff. 
Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.  York. 
Proud Poole, I will, and scorn both him and thee.  Suff. 
I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.  Som. 
Away, away, good William de la Poole,  
We grace the Yeoman, by conversing with him.  Warw. 
Now by Gods will thou wrong'st him, Summersault:  
His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence,  
Third Son to the third Edward King of England:  
Spring Crestlesse Yeomen from so deep a Root?  York. 
He bears him on the place's Privilege,  
Or durst not for his craven heart say thus.  Som. 
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, standest not thou attainted,  
Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry?  
His Trespass yet life's guilty in thy blood,  
And till thou be restored, thou art a Yeoman.  York. 
My Father was attached, not attainted,  
Condemned to dye for Treason, but no Traitor;  
And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,  
Were growing time once ripened to my will.  
For your partaker Poole, 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 warned.  Som. 
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.  York. 
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 whither with me to my Grave,  
Or flourish to the height of my Degree.  Suff. 
Go forward, and be choked with thy ambition:  
And so farewell, until I meet thee next.  Exit. Som. 
Have with thee Poole: Farewell ambitious Richard.  Exit. York. 
How I am braved, and must perforce endure it?  Warw. 
This blot that they object against your House,  
Shall be whipped out in the next Parliament,  
Called for the Truce of Winchester and Gloucester:  
And if thou be not then created York,  
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.  
Mean time, in signal of my love to thee,  
Against proud Somerset, and William Poole,  
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.  York. 
Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,  
That you on my behalf would pluck a Flower.  Ver. 
In your behalf still will I wear the same.  Lawyer. 
And so will I.  York. 
Thanks gentle.  
Come, let us four to Dinner: I dare say,  
This Quarrel will drink Blood another day.  Exeunt. Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chair, and jailors. Mort. 
Kind Keepers of my weak decaying Age,  
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.  
Even like a man new haled from the Wrack,  
So far 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, over-borne with burdening Grief,  
And pyth-lesse Arms, like to a withered 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?  Keeper. 
Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come:  
We sent unto the Temple, unto his Chamber,  
And answer was returned, that he will come.  Mort. 
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. Keeper. 
My Lord, your loving Nephew now is come.  Mor. 
Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?  Rich. 
I, Noble Uncle, thus ignobly used,  
Your Nephew, late despised Richard, cometh.  Mort. 
Direct mine Arms, I may embrace his Neck,  
And in his Bosom spend my latter gasp.  
Oh 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?  Rich. 
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.  Mort. 
That cause (fair Nephew) that imprisoned me,  
And hath detained me all my flowering Youth,  
Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pine,  
Was cursed Instrument of his decease.  Rich. 
Discover more at large what cause that was,  
For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.  Mort. 
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,  
Endeavoured my advancement to the Throne.  
The reason moved these Warlike Lords to this,  
Was, for that (young 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, 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 great attempt,  
They laboured, to plant the rightful Heir,  
I lost my Liberty, and they their Lives.  
Long after this, when Henry the Fift  
(Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) 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 installed me in the Diadem:  
But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earl,  
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,  
In whom the Title rested, were suppressed.  Rich. 
Of which, my Lord, your Honour is the last.  Mort. 
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.  Rich. 
Thy grave admonishments prevail with me:  
But yet me thinks, my Father's execution  
Was nothing less than bloody Tyranny.  Mort. 
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 cloyed  
With long continuance in a settled place.  Rich. 
O Uncle, would some part of my young years  
Might but redeem the passage of your Age.  Mort. 
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. Rich. 
And Peace, no War, befall thy parting Soul.  
In Prison hast thou spent a Pilgrimage,  
And like a Hermit overpassed thy days.  
Well, I will lock his Council 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.  Exit. 
Here dies the dusky Torch of Mortimer,  
Choked with Ambition of the meaner sort.  
And for those Wrongs, those bitter Injuries,  
Which Somerset hath offered 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 will th' advantage of my good.  Exit.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick, Summersault, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put up a Bill: Winchester snatches it, tears it. Winch. 
Comest thou with deep premeditated Lines?  
With written Pamphlets, studiously devised?  
Humphrey of Gloster, 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.  Glo. 
Presumptuous Priest, this place command's my patience,  
Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonoured me.  
Think not, although in Writing I preferred  
The manner of thy vile outrageous Crymes,  
That therefore I have forged, or am not able  
Verbatim to rehearse the Method of my Penne.  
No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickedness,  
Thy lewd, pestiserous, and dissentious pranks,  
As very Infants prattle of thy pride.  
Thou art a most pernicious Usurer,  
Froward 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 layd'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.  Winch. 
Gloster, 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 wont 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.  Glost. 
As good?  
Thou Bastard of my Grandfather.  Winch. 
I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray,  
But one imperious in another's Throne?  Glost. 
Am I not Protector, saucy Priest?  Winch. 
And am not I a Prelate of the Church?  Glost. 
Yes, as an Outlaw in a Castle keeps,  
And useth it, to patronage his Theft.  Winch. 
Vnreverent Gloucester.  Glost. 
Thou art reverend,  
Touching thy Spiritual Function, not thy Life.  Winch. 
Rome shall remedy this.  Warw. 
Roam thither then.  
My Lord, it were your duty to forbear.  Som. 
I, see the Bishop be not over-borne:  
methinks my Lord should be Religious,  
And know the Office that belongs to such.  Warw. 
Me thinks his Lordship should be humbler,  
It fitteth not a Prelate so to plead.  Som. 
Yes, when his holy State is touched so near.  Warw. 
State holy, or unhallowed, what of that?  
Is not his Grace Protector to the King?  Rich. 
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. 
uncle's of Gloster, 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,  
Oh, 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. King. 
What tumult's this?  Warw. 
An Uproar, I dare warrant,  
Begun through malice of the Bishop's men.  A noise again, Stones, Stone's. Enter Maior. Maior. 
Oh 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 filled their Pockets full of peeble stones;  
And banding themselves in contrary parts,  
Do pelt so fast at one another's Pate,  
That many have their giddy brains knocked out:  
Our Windows are broke down in every Street,  
And we, for fear, compelled to shut our Shops.  Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates. King. 
We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,  
To hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the Peace:  
Pray Uncle Gloster mitigate this strife.  1. Seruing. 
Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, we'll fall to it with our Teeth.  2. Seruing. 
Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.  Skirmish again. Glost. 
You of my household, leave this peevish broil,  
And set this unaccustomed fight aside.  3. Seru. 
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.  1. Seru. 
I, and the very parings of our Nails  
Shall pitch a Field when we are dead.  Begin again. Glost. 
Stay, stay, I say:  
And if you love me, as you say you do,  
Let me persuade you to forbear a while.  King. 
Oh, 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?  Warw. 
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.  Winch. 
He shall submit, or I will never yield.  Glost. 
Compassion on the King commands me stoop,  
Or I would see his heart out, ere the Priest  
Should ever get that privilege of me.  Warw. 
Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke  
Hath banished moody discontented fury,  
As by his smoothed Brows it doth appear:  
Why look you still so stern, and tragical?  Glost. 
Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand.  King. 
Fie Uncle Beauford, 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 offendor in the same.  Warw. 
Sweet King: the Bishop hath a kindly gird:  
For shame my Lord of Winchester relent;  
What, shall a Child instruct you what to do?  Winch. 
Well, Duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee  
Love for thy Love, and Hand for Hand I give.  Glost. 
I, 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.  Winch. 
So help me God, as I intent it not.  King. 
Oh loving Uncle, kind Duke of Gloster,  
How joyful am I made by this Contract.  
Away my Masters, trouble us no more,  
But join in friendship, as your Lords have done.  1. Seru. 
Content, I'll to the Surgeons.  2. Seru. 
And so will I.  3. Seru. 
And I will see what Physic the Tavern affords.  Exeunt. Warw. 
Accept this Scroll, most gracious Sovereign,  
Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet,  
We do exhibit to your Majesty.  Glo. 
Well urged, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince,  
And if your Grace mark every circumstance,  
You have great reason to do Richard right,  
Especially for those occasions  
At Eltam Place I told your Majesty.  King. 
And those occasions, Uncle, were of force:  
Therefore my loving Lords, our pleasure is,  
That Richard be restored to his Blood.  Warw. 
Let Richard be restored to his Blood,  
So shall his Father's wrongs be recompensed.  Winch. 
As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.  King. 
If Richard will be true, not that all alone,  
But all the whole Inheritance I give,  
That doth belong unto the House of York,  
From whence you spring, by Lineal Descent.  Rich. 
Thy humble servant vows obedience,  
And humble service, till the point of death.  King. 
Stoop then, and set your Knee against my Foot,  
And in reguerdon of that duty done,  
I girt thee with the valiant Sword of York:  
Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet,  
And rise created Princely Duke of York.  Rich. 
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.  Som. 
Perish base Prince, ignoble Duke of York.  Glost. 
Now will it best avail your Majesty,  
To cross the Seas, and to be Crowned in France:  
The presence of a King engenders love  
Amongst his Subjects, and his loyal Friends,  
As it disanimates his Enemies.  King. 
When Gloster says the word, King Henry goes,  
For friendly counsel cuts off many Foes.  Glost. 
Your Ships already are in readiness.  Senet. Flourish. Exeunt. Manet Exeter. Exet. 
I, 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 festered 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 Fift,  
Was in the mouth of every sucking Babe,  
That Henry borne at Monmouth should win all,  
And Henry borne at Windsor, lose all:  
Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish,  
His days may finish, ere that hapless time.  Exit.  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Pucell disguised▪ with four Soldiers with Sacks upon their backs. Pucell. 
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 Corne.  
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 Dolphin may encounter them.  Soldier. 
Our Sacks shall be a mean to sack the City  
And we be Lords and Rulers over Rouen,  
Therefore we'll knock.  Knock. Watch. 
Che la.  Pucell. 
Peasauns la powre gens de France,  
Poor Market folks that come to sell their Corne.  Watch. 
Enter, go in, the Market Bell is rung.  Pucell. 
Now Rouen, I'll shake thy Bulwarks to the ground.  Exeunt. Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson. Charles. 
Saint Dennis bless this happy Stratagem,  
And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.  Bastard. 
Here entered Pucell, and her Practisants:  
Now she is there, how will she specify?  
Here is the best and safest passage in.  Reig. 
By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower,  
Which once discerned, shows that her meaning is,  
No way to that (for weakness) which she entered.  Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a Torch burning. Pucell. 
Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch,  
That joineth Rouen unto her Countrymen,  
But burning fatal to the Talbonites.  Bastard. 
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.  Reig. 
Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends,  
Enter and cry, the Dolphin, presently,  
And then do execution on the Watch.  Alarm. An Alarm. Talbot in an Excursion. Talb. 
France, thou shalt rue this Treason with thy tears,  
If Talbot but survive thy Treachery.  
Pucell that Witch, that damned Sorceress,  
Hath wrought this Hellish Mischief unawares,  
That hardly we escaped the Pride of France.  Exit. An Alarm: Excursions. Bedford brought in sick in a Chair. Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles, Bastard, and Reigneir on the Walls. Pucell. 
God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread?  
I think the Duke of Burgonie will fast,  
Before he'll buy again at such a rate.  
'Twas full of Darnell: do you like the taste?  Burg. 
Scoff on vile Fiend, and shameless Courtesan,  
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own,  
And make thee curse the Harvest of that Corne.  Charles. 
Your Grace may starve (perhaps) before that time.  Bedf. 
Oh let no words, but deeds, revenge this Treason.  Pucell. 
What will you do, good graybeard?  
Break a Lance, and run atilt at Death,  
Within a Chair.  Talb. 
Fowl Fiend of France, and Hag of all despite,  
Encompassed 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.  Pucell. 
Are ye so hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace,  
If Talbot do but Thunder, Rain will follow.  They whisper together in counsel. 
God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker?  Talb. 
Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field?  Pucell. 
Belike your Lordship takes us then for fools,  
To try if that our own be ours, or no.  Talb. 
I speak not to that railing Hecate,  
But unto thee Alencon, and the rest.  
Will ye, like Soldiers, come and fight it out?  alan's. 
Signior no.  Talb. 
Signior hang: base Muleteers of France,  
Like Peasant footboys do they keep the Walls,  
And dare not take up Arms, like Gentlemen.  Pucell. 
Away Captains, let's get us from the Walls,  
For Talbot means no goodness by his Looks.  
God b'uy my Lord, we came but to tell you  
That we are here.  Exeunt from the Walls. Talb. 
And there will we be too, ere it be long,  
Or else reproach be Talbots greatest fame.  
Vow Burgonie, by honour of thy House,  
Pricked on by public Wrongs sustained in France,  
Either to get the Town again, or dye.  
And I, as sure as English Henry life's,  
And as his Father here was Conqueror;  
As sure as in this late betrayed Town,  
Great Cordelion's Heart was buried;  
So sure I swear, to get the Town, or dye.  Burg. 
My Vows are equal partners with thy Vows.  Talb. 
But ere we go, regard this dying Prince,  
The valiant Duke of Bedford: Come my Lord,  
We will bestow you in some better place,  
Fit for sickness, and for crazy age.  Bedf. 
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.  Burg. 
Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.  Bedf. 
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.  
Me thinks I should revive the Soldiers hearts,  
Because I ever found them as myself.  Talb. 
Undaunted spirit in a dying breast,  
Then be it so: Heavens keep old Bedford safe.  
And now no more ado, brave Burgonie,  
But gather we our Forces out of hand,  
And set upon our boasting Enemy.  Exit. An Alarm: Excursions Enter Sir john Falstaff, and a Captain. Capt. 
Whither away Sir john Falstaff, in such haste?  Falst. 
Whither away? to save myself by flight,  
We are like to have the overthrow again.  Capt. 
What? will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?  Falst. 
I, all the Talbots in the World, to save my life.  Exit. Capt. 
Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee.  Exit. Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alencon, and Charles fly. Bedf. 
Now quiet Soul, depart when Heaven please,  
For I have seen our Enemy's 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 Alarm. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest. Talb. 
Lost, and recovered in a day again,  
This is a double Honour, Burgonie:  
Yet Heavens have glory for this Victory.  Burg. 
Warlike and Martial Talbot, Burgonie  
Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects  
Thy noble Deeds, as Valour's Monuments.  Talb. 
Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now?  
I think her old Familiar is asleep.  
Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his glikes?  
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.  Burg. 
What will Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie.  Talb. 
But yet before we go, let's not forget  
The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceased,  
But see his Exequys fulfilled 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 humane misery.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell. Pucell. 
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 Dolphin 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. 
Search out thy wit for secret policies,  
And we will make thee famous through the World.  alan's. 
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.  Pucell. 
Then thus it must be, this doth joane device:  
By fair persuasions, mixed with sugared words,  
We will entice the Duke of Burgonie  
To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.  Charles. 
I 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.  alan's. 
For ever should they be expulsed from France,  
And not have Title of an Earldom here.  Pucell. 
Your Honours shall perceive how I will work,  
To bring this matter to the wished end.  Drum sounds a fare off. 
Hark, by the sound of Drum you may perceive  
Their Powers are marching unto Paris-ward.  Here sound an English March. 
There goes the Talbot with his Colours spread,  
And all the Troops of English after him.  French March. 
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 Burgonie.  Burg. 
Who craves a Parley with the Burgonie?  Pucell. 
The Princely Charles of France, thy Countryman.  Burg. 
What sayest thou Charles? for I am marching hence.  Charles. 
Speak Pucell, and enchant him with thy words.  Pucell. 
Brave Burgonie, undoubted hope of France,  
Stay, let thy humble Handmaid speak to thee.  Burg. 
Speak on, but be not over-tedious.  Pucell. 
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 woeful Breast.  
Oh 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.  Burg. 
Either she hath bewitched me with her words,  
Or Nature makes me suddenly relent.  Pucell. 
Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,  
Doubting thy Birth and lawful Progeny.  
Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation,  
That will not trust thee, but for profits sake?  
When Talbot hath set footing once in France,  
And fashioned 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 Burgonie and all his friends.  
See then, thou fightest against thy Countrymen,  
And ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughtermen.  
Come, come, return; return thou wandering Lord,  
Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.  Burg. 
I am vanquished:  
These haughty words of hers  
Have battered me like roaring Canonshot,  
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.  Pucell. 
Done like a Frenchman: turn and turn again.  Charles. 
Welcome brave Duke, thy friendship makes us fresh.  Bastard. 
And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts.  alan's. 
Pucell hath bravely played 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.  

Scoena Quarta.  Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter: To them, with his Soldiers, Talbot. Talb. 
My gracious Prince, and honourable Peers,  
Hearing of your arrival in this Realm,  
I have a while given Truce unto my Wars,  
To do my duty to my Sovereign.  
In sign whereof, this Arm, that hath reclaimed  
To your obedience, fifty Fortresses,  
Twelve Cities, and seven walled Towns of strength,  
Beside five hundred Prisoners of esteem;  
Let's 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.  King. 
Is this the Lord Talbot, Uncle Gloucester,  
That hath so long been resident in France?  Glost. 
Yes, if it please your Majesty, my Liege▪  King. 
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 reguerdoned 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.  Senet. Flourish. Exeunt. Manet Vernon and Basset. Vern. 
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 spak'st?  Bass. 
Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage  
The envious barking of your saucy Tongue,  
Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset.  Vern. 
Sirrah, thy Lord I honour as he is.  Bass. 
Why, what is he? as good a man as York.  Vern. 
Hark ye: not so: in witness take ye that.  Strikes him. Bass. 
Villain, thou knowest  
The Law of Arms is such,  
That who so 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.  Vern. 
Well miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you,  
And after meet you, sooner than you would,  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter King, Gloucester, Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Talbot, and Governor Exeter. Glo. 
Lord Bishop set the Crown upon his head.  Win. 
God save King Henry of that name the sixth.  Glo. 
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 practices against his State:  
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God.  Enter Falstaff. Fal. 
My gracious Sovereign, as I road from Calais,  
To haste unto your Coronation:  
A Letter was delivered to my hands,  
Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy.  Tal. 
Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee:  
I vowed (base Knight) when I did meet the next,  
To tear the Garter from thy Cravens leg,  
Which I have done, because (unworthily)  
Thou was't installed in that High Degree.  
Pardon me Princely Henry, and the rest:  
This Dastard, at the battle of Poitiers,  
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 diverse 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?  Glo. 
To say the truth, this fact was infamous,  
And ill beseeming any common man;  
Much more a Knight, a Captain, and a Leader.  Tal. 
When first this Order was ordained 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 furnished 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-borne Swain,  
That doth presume to boast of Gentle blood.  K. 
Stain to thy Countrymen, thou hearest thy doom:  
Be packing therefore, thou that was't a knight:  
Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death.  
And now Lord Protector, view the Letter  
Sent from our Uncle Duke of Burgundy.  Glo. 
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? I have upon especial cause,  
Moved with compassion of my Country's wrack,  
Together with the pitiful complaints  
Of such as your oppression feeds upon,  
Forsaken your pernicious Faction,  
And joined 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. 
What? doth my Uncle Burgundy revolt?  Glo. 
He doth my Lord, and is become your foe.  King. 
Is that the worst this Letter doth contain?  Glo. 
It is the worst, and all (my Lord) he writes.  King. 
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?  Tal. 
Content, my Liege? Yes: But that I am prevented,  
I should have begged I might have been employed.  King. 
Then gather strength, and march unto him strait:  
Let him perceive how ill we brook his Treason,  
And what offence it is to flout his Friends.  Tal. 
I go my Lord, in heart desiring still  
You may behold confusion of your foes.  Enter Vernon and Bassit. Ver. 
Grant me the Combat, gracious Sovereign.  Bas. 
And me (my Lord) grant me the Combat too.  York. 
This is my Servant, hear him Noble Prince.  Som. 
And this is mine (sweet Henry) favour him.  King. 
Be patiented Lords, and give them leave to speak.  
Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim,  
And wherefore crave you Combat? Or with whom?  Ver. 
With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong.  Bas. 
And I with him, for he hath done me wrong.  King. 
What is that wrong, whereof you both complain  
First let me know, and then I'll answer you.  Bas. 
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 Masters 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.  Ver. 
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,  
Bewrayed the faintness of my Master's heart.  York. 
Will not this malice Somerset be left?  Som. 
Your private grudge my Lord of York, will out,  
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.  King. 
Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men,  
When for so slight and frivolous a cause,  
Such factious aemulations 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.  Som. 
The quarrel toucheth none but us alone,  
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.  York. 
There is my pledge, accept it Somerset.  Ver. 
Nay, let it rest where it began at first.  Bass. 
Confirm it so, mine honourable Lord.  Glo. 
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, me thinks 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.  Exet. 
It grieves his Highness,  
Good my Lords, be Friends.  King. 
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 stomaches 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,  
Destroyed themselves, and lost the Realm of France?  
Oh think upon the Conquest of my Father,  
My tender years, and let us not forgo  
That for a trifle, that was bought with blood.  
Let me be Vmper in this doubtful strife:  
I see no reason if I wear this 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 vpbrayed me with my Crown,  
Because (forsooth) the King of Scots is Crowned.  
But your discretions better can persuade,  
Then 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, Alanson, and that Traitorous rout.  Exeunt. Manet York, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon. War. 
My Lord of York, I promise you the King  
Prettily (me thought) did play the Orator.)  York. 
And so he did, but yet I like it not,  
In that he wears the badge of Somerset.  War. 
Tush, that was but his fancy, blame him not,  
I dare presume (sweet Prince) he thought no harm.  York. 
And if I wish he did. But let it rest,  
Other affairs must now be managed.  Exeunt. Flourish. Manet Exeter. Exet. 
Well didst thou Richard to suppress thy voice:  
For had the passions of thy heart burst out,  
I fear we should have seen deciphered there  
More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,  
Then yet can be imagined or supposed:  
But howe'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 ruin, there gins confusion.  Exit. Enter Talbot with Trump and Drum, before Bordeaux. Talb. 
Go to the Gates of Bordeaux Trumpeter,  
Summon their General unto the Wall.  Sounds. Enter General aloft. 
English john Talbot (Captains) call 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 proffered Peace,  
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,  
Lean Famine, quartering Steel, and climbing Fire,  
Who in a moment, eeven with the earth,  
Shall lay your stately, and ayre-braving Towers,  
If you forsake the offer of their love.  Cap. 
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 Dolphin well appointed,  
Stands with the snares of War to tangle thee.  
On either hand thee, there are squadrons pitched,  
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 unconquered spirit:  
This is the latest Glory of thy praise,  
That I thy enemy due thee withal:  
For ere the Glass that now gins to run,  
Finish the process of his sandy hour,  
These eyes that see thee now well coloured,  
Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.  Drum a fare off. 
Hark, hark, the Dolphin's drum, a warning bell,  
Sings heavy Music to thy timorous soul,  
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out,  Exit Tal. 
He Fables not, I hear the enemy:  
Out some light Horsemen, and peruse their Wings.  
O negligent and heedless Discipline,  
How are we parked 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 Rascall-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 S. George, Talbot and England's right,  
Prosper our Colours in this dangerous fight.  Enter a Messenger that meets York. Enter York with Trumpet, and many Soldiers. York. 
Are not the speedy scouts returned again,  
That dogged the mighty Army of the Dolphin?  Mess. 
They are returned my Lord, and give it out,  
That he is marched to Bordeaux with his power  
To fight with Talbot as he marched along.  
By your espyals were discovered  
Two mightier Troops then that the Dolphin led,  
Which joined with him, and made their march for Bordeaux  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 another Messenger. 2. Mes. 
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 waste of Iron,  
And hemmed about with grim destruction:  
To Bordeaux warlike Duke, to Bordeaux York,  
Else farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.  York. 
O God, that Somerset who in proud heart  
Doth stop my Cornets, were in Talbots place,  
So should we save a valiant Gentleman,  
By forteyting a Traitor, and a Coward:  
Mad ire, and wrathful fury makes me weep,  
That thus we die, while remiss Traitors sleep.  Mes. 
O send some succour to the distressed 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.  Mes. 
Then God take mercy on brave Talbots soul,  
And on his Son young john, who two hours since,  
I met in travail 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 sundered friends greet in the hour of death.  
Lucy farewell, no more my fortune can,  
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.  
Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and Toures, are won away,  
Long all of Somerset, and his delay.  Exit Mes. 
Thus while the Vulture of sedition,  
Feeds in the bosom of such great Commanders,  
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss:  
The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror,  
That everliving man of Memory,  
Henry the fift: Whiles they each other cross,  
Lives, Honours, Lands, and all, hurry to loss.  Enter Somerset with his Army. Som. 
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 overdaring Talbot  
Hath sullied all his gloss of former Honour  
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:  
York set him on to fight, and dye in shame,  
That Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.  Cap. 
here is Sir William Lucy, who with me  
Set from our o'ermatched forces forth for aid.  Som. 
How now Sir William, whether were you sent?  Lu. 
Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L. Talbot,  
Who ringed about with bold adversity,  
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,  
To beat assailing death from his weak Regions,  
And whiles the honourable Captain there  
Drops bloody sweat from his warre-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 succours that should lend him aid,  
While he renowned Noble Gentleman  
Yield up his life unto a world of odds.  
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,  
Alencon, Reignard, compass him about,  
And Talbot perisheth by your default.  Som. 
York set him on, York should have sent him aid.  Luc. 
And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims,  
Swearing that you withhold his levied host,  
Collected for this expidition.  Som. 
York lies: He might have sent, & had the Horse:  
I own him little Duty, and less Love,  
And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.  Lu. 
The fraud of England, not the force of France,  
Hath now entrapped the Nobleminded Talbot:  
Never to England shall he bear his life,  
But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.  Som. 
Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen straight:  
Within six hours, they will be at his aid.  Lu. 
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.  Som. 
If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu.  Lu. 
His Fame life's in the world. His Shame in you.  Exeunt. Enter Talbot and his Son. Tal. 
O young john Talbot, I did send for thee▪  
To tutor thee in stratagems of War,  
That Talbots 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. 
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 Talbots blood,  
That basely fled, when Noble Talbot stood.  Talb. 
Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.  john. 
He that flies so, will ne'er return again.  Talb. 
If we both stay, we both are sure to dye.  john. 
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, every one 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.  Talb. 
Shall all thy Mother's hopes lie in one Tomb?  john. 
I rather than I'll shame my Mother's Womb,  Talb. 
Upon my Blessing I command thee go.  john. 
To fight I will, but not to fly the Foe.  Talb. 
Part of thy Father may be saved in thee.  john. 
No part of him, but will be shame in me.  Talb. 
Thou never hadst Renown, nor canst not lose it.  john. 
Yes, your renowned Name: shall flight abuse it?  Talb. 
Thy Father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.  john. 
You cannot witness for me, being slain.  
If Death be so apparent, then both fly.  Talb. 
And leave my followers here to fight and dye?  
My Age was never tainted with such shame.  john. 
And shall my Youth be guilty of such blame?  
No more can I be severed from your side,  
Then can yourself, yourself in twain divide:  
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;  
For live I will not, if my Father dye.  Talb. 
Then here I take my leave of thee, fair Son,  
Borne to eclipse thy Life this afternoon:  
Come, side by side, together live and dye,  
And Soul with Soul from France to Heaven fly.  Exit. Alarm: Excursions, wherein Talbots Son is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him. Talb. 
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. 
O twice my Father, twice am I thy Son:  
The Life thou gav'st me first, was lost and done,  
Till with thy Warlike Sword, despite of Fate,  
To my determined time thou gav'st new date.  Talb. 
When from the Dolphin's Crest thy Sword struck fire,  
It warmed thy Father's heart with proud desire  
Of boldfaced Victory. Then Leaden Age,  
Quickened 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 far?  
Wilt thou yet leave the Battle, Boy, and fly,  
Now thou art sealed the Son of Chivalry?  
Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead,  
The help of one stands me in little stead.  
Oh, too much folly is it, well I wots,  
To hazard all our lives in one small Boat,  
If I to day die not with Frenchmens Rage,  
To morrow I shall dye with much Age.  
By me they nothing gain, and 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. 
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, fall and dye:  
And like me to the peasant Boys of France.  
To be Shames scorn, and subject of Mischance.  
Surely, by all the Glory you have won,  
And if I fly, I am not Talbots Son.  
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot,  
If Son to Talbot, die at Talbots foot.  Talb. 
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 dye in pride.  Exit. Alarm. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led. Talb. 
Where is my other Life? mine own is gone.  
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant john?  
Triumphant Death, smeared with Captivity,  
Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee.  
When he perceived me shrink, and on my Knee,  
His bloody Sword he brandished 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 assailed of none,  
Dizzie-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.  Enter with john Talbot, born. Seru. 
O my dear Lord, lo where your Son is borne.  Tal. 
Thou antique Death, which laughest 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 favoured death,  
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath,  
Brave death by speaking, whither he will or no:  
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe.  
Poor Boy, he smiles, me thinks, as who should say,  
Had Death been French, than Death had died to day.  
Come, come, and lay him in his Father's arms,  
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.  
Soldier's adieu: I have what I would have,  
Now my old arms are young john Talbots grave.  Dyes Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundy, Bastard, and Pucell. Char. 
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,  
We should have found a bloody day of this.  Bast. 
How the young whelp of Talbots raging wood,  
Did flesh his punie-sword in Frenchmens blood.  Puc. 
Once I encountered him, and thus I said:  
Thou Maiden youth, be vanquished by a Maid.  
But with a proud Majestical high scorn  
He answered thus: Young Talbot was not borne  
To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench:  
So rushing in the bowels of the French,  
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight,  Bur. 
Doubtless he would have made a noble Knight:  
See where he lies inherced in the arms  
Of the most bloody Nursser of his harms.  Bast. 
Hue them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,  
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.  Char. 
Oh no forbear: For that which we have fled  
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.  Enter Lucy. Lu. 
Herald, conduct me to the Dolphin's Tent,  
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.  Char. 
On what submissive message art thou sent?  Lucy. 
Submission Dolphin? Ti● a mere French word:  
We English Warriors wots not what it means.  
I come to know what Prisoner; thou hast ta'en,  
And to survey the bodies of the dead.  Char. 
For prisoners askest thou? Hell our prison is.  
But tell me whom thou seekest?  Luc. 
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 Vrchinfield,  
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,  
Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furnivall, of Sheffeild,  
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,  
Knight of the Noble Order of S. George,  
Worthy S. Michael, and the Golden Fleece,  
Great Marshal to Henry the sixth,  
Of all his Wars within the Realm of France.  Puc. 
here's a silly stately stile indeed:  
The Turk that two and fifty Kingdoms hath,  
Writes not so tedious a Style as this.  
Him that thou magnifi'st with all these Titles,  
Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.  Lucy. 
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmens only Scourge,  
Your Kingdom's terror, and black Nemesis?  
Oh were mine eyeballs into Bullets turned,  
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces.  
Oh, 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.  Pucel. 
I think this upstart is old Talbots Ghost,  
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit:  
For God's sake let him have him, to keep them here,  
They would but stink, and putrify the air.  Char. 
Go take their bodies hence.  Lucy. 
I'll bear them hence: but from their ashes shall be reared  
A Phoenix that shall make all France afeared.  Char. 
So we be rid of them, do with him what thou wilt.  
And now to Paris in this conquering vain,  
All will be ours, now bloody Talbots slain.  Exit.  

Scena secunda.  
SENNET.  Enter King, Gloucester, and Exeter. King. 
Have you perused the Letters from the Pope,  
The Emperor, and the Earl of Arminack?  Glo. 
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. 
How doth your Grace affect their motion?  Glo. 
Well (my good Lord) and as the only means  
To stop effusion of our Christian blood,  
And establish quietness on every side.  King. 
I 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.  Glo. 
Beside my Lord, the sooner to effect,  
And surer bind this knot of amity,  
The Earl of Arminacke 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. 
Marriage Uncle? Alas my years are young:  
And fit is my study, and my Books,  
Than wanton dalliance with a Paramour.  
Yet call th' Ambassadors, 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 Winchester, and three Ambassadors. Exet. 
What, is my Lord of Winchester installed,  
And called unto a Cardinal's degree?  
Then I perceive, that will be verified  
Henry the Fift did sometime prophesy.  
If once he come to be a Cardinal,  
he'll make his cap coequal with the Crown.  King. 
My Lords Ambassadors, your several suits  
Have been considered and debated on,  
Your purpose is both good and reasonable:  
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.  Glo. 
And for the proffer of my Lord your Master,  
I have informed his Highness so at large,  
As liking of the Ladies virtuous gifts,  
Her Beauty, and the value of her Dower,  
He doth intent she shall be England's Queen.  King. 
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, wherein shipped  
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.  Exeunt. Win. 
Stay my Lord Legate, you shall first receive  
The sum of money which I promised  
Should be delivered to his Holiness,  
For clothing me in these grave Ornaments.  Legat. 
I will attend upon your Lordship's leisure.  Win. 
Now Winchester will not submit, I trow,  
Or be inferior to the proudest Peer;  
Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive,  
That neither in birth, or for authority,  
The Bishop will be over-borne by thee:  
I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,  
Or sack this Country with a mutiny.  Exeunt  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, and jone. Char. 
These news (my Lords) may cheer our drooping spirits:  
'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,  
And turn again unto the warlike French.  Alan. 
Then march to Paris Royal Charles of France,  
And keep not back your powers in dalliance.  Pucel. 
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.  Char. 
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.  Char. 
Somewhat too sudden Sirs, the warning is,  
But we will presently provide for them.  Bur. 
I trust the Ghost of Talbot is not there:  
Now he is gone my Lord, you need not fear.  Pucel. 
Of all base passions, Fear is most accursed.  
Command the Conquest Charles, it shall be thine:  
Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.  Char. 
Then on my Lords, and France be fortunate.  Exeunt. Alarm. Excursions. Enter jone de Pucell. Puc. 
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 Fiend's. 
This speedy and quick appearance argues proof  
Of your accustomed diligence to me.  
Now ye Familiar Spirits, that are culled  
Out of the powerful Regions under earth,  
Help me this once, that France may get the field.  They walk, and speak not. 
Oh hold me not with silenee overlong:  
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,  
I'll lope member off, and give it you,  
In earnest of a 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 wont 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 vale 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 droopcth to the dust.  Exit. Excursions. Burgundy and York fight hand to hand. 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 Witch doth bend her brows,  
As if with Circe, she would change my shape.  Puc. 
Changed to a worse shape thou canst not be:  Yor. 
Oh, Charles the Dolphin is a proper man,  
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.  Puc. 
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.  Puc. 
I prithee give me leave to curse awhile.  York. 
Curse Miscreant, when thou com'st to the stake  Exeunt. Alarm. Enter Suffolk with Margaret in his hand. Suff. 
Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.  Gazes on her. 
Oh Fairest Beauty, do not fear, nor fly:  
For I will touch thee but with reverend 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.  Mar. 
Margaret my name, and daughter to a King,  
The King of Naples, who so ere thou art.  Suff. 
An Earl I am, and Suffolk am I called.  
Be not offended Nature's miracle,  
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:  
So doth the Swan her downy Signets save,  
Keeping them prisoner underneath his wings:  
Yet if this servile usage once offend,  
Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend.  She is going 
Oh slay: 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?  
I: Beauties Princely Majesty is such,  
‛ Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough.  Mar. 
Say Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so,  
What ransom must I pay before I pass?  
For I perceive I am thy prisoner.  Suf. 
How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,  
Before thou make a trial of her love?  M. 
Why speakest thou not? What ransom must I pay?  Suf. 
She's beautiful; and therefore to be Wooed:  
She is a Woman; therefore to be Won.  Mar. 
Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no?  Suf. 
Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife,  
Then how can Margaret be thy Paramour?  Mar. 
I were best to leave him, for he will not hear.  Suf. 
There all is marred: there lies a cooling card.  Mar. 
He talks at random: sure the man is mad.  Suf. 
And yet a dispensation may be had.  Mar. 
And yet I would that you would answer me:  Suf. 
I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?  
Why for my King: Tush, that's a wooden thing.  Mar. 
He talks of wood: It is some Carpenter.  Suf. 
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.  Mar. 
Hear ye Captain? Are you not at leisure?  Suf. 
It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much:  
Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.  
Madam, I have a secret to reveal.  Mar. 
What though I be enthralled, he seems a knight  
And will not any way dishonour me.  Suf. 
Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.  Mar. 
Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French,  
And then I need not crave his courtesy.  Suf. 
Sweet Madam, give me hearing in a cause.  Mar. 
Tush, women have been captivated ere now.  Suf. 
Lady, wherefore talk you so?  Mar. 
I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo.  Suf. 
Say gentle Princess, would you not suppose  
Your bondage happy, to be made a Queen?  Mar. 
To be a Queen in bondage, is more vile,  
Than is a slave, in base servility:  
For Princes should be free.  Suf. 
And so shall you.  
If happy Englands Royal King be free.  Mar. 
Why what concerns his freedom unto me?  Suf. 
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—  Mar. 
What?  Suf. 
His love.  Mar. 
I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.  Suf. 
No gentle Madam, I unworthy am  
To woe so fair a Dame to be his wife,  
And have no portion in the choice myself.  
How say you Madam, are ye so content?  Mar. 
And if my Father please, I am content.  Suf. 
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.  Sound. Enter Reignier on the Walls. 
See Reignier see, thy daughter prisoner.  Reig. 
To whom?  Suf. 
To me.  Reig. 
Suffolk, what remedy?  
I am a Soldier, and unapt to weep,  
Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness.  Suf. 
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 wooed and won thereto:  
And this her easy held imprisonment,  
Hath gained thy daughter Princely liberty.  Reig. 
Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?  Suf. 
Fair Margaret knows,  
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or fain.  Reig. 
Upon thy Princely warrant, I descend,  
To give thee answer of thy just demand.  Suf. 
And here I will expect thy coming.  Trumpet's sound. Enter Reignier. Reig. 
Welcome brave Earl into our Territories,  
Command in Anjou what your Honour pleases.  Suf. 
Thanks Reignier, happy for so sweet a Child,  
Fit to be made companion with a King:  
What answer makes your Grace unto my suit?  Reig. 
Since thou dost deign to woe 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.  Suf. 
That is her ransom, I deliver her,  
And those two Counties I will undertake  
Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.  Reig. 
And I again in Henry's Royal name,  
As Deputy unto that gracious King,  
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.  Suf. 
Reignier of France, I give thee Kingly thankes,  
Because this is in Traffic of a King.  
And yet me thinks 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 solemnised:  
So farewell Reignier, set this Diamond safe  
In Golden Palaces as it becomes.  Reig. 
I do embrace thee, as I would embrace  
The Christian Prince King Henry were he here.  Mar. 
Farewell my Lord, good wishes, praise, & prayers,  
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.  She is going. Suf. 
Farewell sweet Madam: but hark you Margaret,  
No Princely commendations to my King?  Mar. 
Such commendations as becomes a Maid,  
A Virgin, and his Servant, say to him.  Suf. 
Words sweetly placed, and modesty directed,  
But Madame, I must trouble you again,  
No loving Token to his Majesty?  Mar. 
Yes, my good Lord, a pure unspotted heart,  
Never yet taint with love, I send the King.  Suf. 
And this withal.  Kiss her. Mar. 
That for thyself, I will not so presume,  
To send such peevish tokens to a King.  Suf. 
Oh wert thou for myself: but Suffolk stay,  
Thou mayest not wander in that Labyrinth,  
There Minotaurs and ugly Treasons lurk,  
Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise.  
Bethink thee on her Virtues that surmount,  
Mad natural Graces that extinguish Art,  
Repeat their semblance often on the Seas,  
That when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet,  
Thou mayest bereave him of his wits with wonder.  Exit Enter York, Warwick, Shepheard, Pucell. Yor. 
Bring forth that Sorceress condemned to burn.  Shep. 
Ah jone, this kills thy Father's heart outright,  
Have I sought every Country fare and near,  
And now it is my chance to find thee out,  
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death:  
Ah jone, sweet daughter jone, I'll die with thee.  Pucel. 
Decrepit Miser, base ignoble Wretch,  
I am descended of a gentler blood.  
Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine.  Shep. 
Out, out: My Lords, and 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 Bach'ler-ship.  War. 
Graceless, wilt thou deny thy Parentage?  York. 
This argues what her kind of life hath been,  
Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes.  Shep. 
Fie jone, 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 jone.  Pucell. 
Peasant avaunt. You have suborned this man  
Of purpose, to obscure my Noble birth.  Shep. 
'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 suckest her breast,  
Had been a little Ratsbane for thy sake.  
Or else, when thou didst keep my Lamb's 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.  Puc. 
First let me tell you whom you have condemned;  
Not me, begotten of a Shepherd Swaine,  
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,  
Stained with the guiltless blood of Innocents,  
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices:  
Because you want the grace that others have,  
You judge it strait a thing impossible  
To compass Wonders, but by help of devils.  
No misconceyved, jone of Aire 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. 
I, I: away with her to execution.  War. 
And hark ye sirs: because she is a Maid,  
Spare for no Faggots, let there be enough:  
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,  
That so her torture may be shortened.  Puc. 
Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?  
Then jone discovet thine infirmity,  
That wartanteth 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.  Yor. 
Now heaven forfend, the holy Maid with child?  War. 
The greatest miracle that ere ye wrought  
Is all your strict preciseness come to this?  York. 
She and the Dolphin have been juggling,  
I did imagine what would be her refuge.  War. 
Well go too, we'll have no Bastards live,  
Especially since Charles must Father it.  Puc. 
You are deceived, my child is none of his,  
It was Alencon that enjoyed my love.  York. 
Alanson that notorious Machevile?  
It dies, and if it had a thousand lives.  Puc. 
Oh give me leave, I have deluded you,  
'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the Duke I named,  
But Reignier King of Naples that prevailed.  War. 
A married man, that's most intolerable.  Yor. 
Why here's a Girl: I think she knows not well  
(There were so many) whom she may accuse.  War. 
It's sign she hath been liberal and free.  Yor. 
And yet forsooth she is a Virgin pure,  
Strumpet, thy words condemn thy Bra●, and thee.  
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.  Pu. 
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 Enter Cardinal. York. 
Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes,  
Thou fowl accursed minister of Hell.  Car. 
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 Dolphin and his Train  
Approacheth, to confer about some matter.  York. 
Is all our travel turned to this effect,  
After the slaughter of so many Peers,  
So many Captains, Gentlemen, and Soldier's,  
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, Falshood, and by Treachery,  
Our great Progenitors had conquered:  
Oh Warwick, Warwick, I foresee with grief  
The utter loss of all the Realm of France.  War. 
Be patiented York, if we conclude a Peace  
It shall be with such strict and severe Covenants,  
As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.  Enter Charles, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier. Char. 
Since Lords of England, it is thus agreed,  
That peaceful truce shall be proclaimed 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 poisoned voice,  
By sight of these our baleful enemies.  Win. 
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 breath in fruitful peace,  
You shall become true Liegemen to his Crown.  
And Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear  
To pay him tribute, and submit thyself,  
Thou shalt be placed as Viceroy under him,  
And still enjoy thy Regal dignity.  Alan. 
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.  Char. 
'Tis known already that I am possessed  
With more than half the Gallian Territories,  
And therein reverenced for their lawful King.  
Shall I for lucre of the rest unvanquished,  
Detract so much from that prerogative,  
As to be called 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,  
Standest thou aloof upon Comparison.  
Either accept the Title thou usurpest,  
Of benefit proceeding from our King,  
And not of any challenge of Desert,  
Or we will plague thee with incessant Wars.  Reig. 
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.  Alan. 
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.  War. 
How sayest thou Charles?  
Shall our Condition stand?  Char. 
It Shall:  
Only reserved you claim no interest  
In any of our Towns of Garrison.  Yor. 
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 Ensigns, let your Drums be still,  
For here we entertain a solemn peace.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  Enter Suffolk in conference with the King, Gloucester, and Exeter. King. 
Your wondrous rare description (noble Earl)  
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me:  
Her virtues graced with external gifts,  
Do breed Love's settled passions in my heart,  
And like as rigour 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..  Suf. 
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. 
And otherwise, will Henry ne'er presume:  
Therefore my Lord Protector, give consent,  
That Margaret may be England's Royal Queen.  Glo. 
So should I give consent to flatter sin,  
You know (my Lord) your Highness is betrothed  
Unto another Lady of esteem,  
How shall we then dispense with that contract,  
And not deface your Honour with reproach?  Suf. 
As doth a Ruler with unlawful Oaths,  
Or one that at a Triumph, having vowed  
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.  Suf. 
Yes my 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.  Glo. 
And so the Earl of Arminacke may do,  
Because he is near Kinsman unto Charles.  Exet. 
Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower,  
Where Reignier sooner will receive, than give.  Suf. 
A Dowry 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 to 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,  
Then to be dealt in by Atturneyship:  
Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects,  
Must be companion of his Nuptial bed.  
And therefore Lords, since he affects her most,  
Most of all these reasons bindeth us,  
In our opinions she should be preferred,  
For what is wedloeke 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 sit 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 linked in love.  
Then yield my Lords, and here conclude with me,  
That Margaret shall be Queen, and none but she.  King. 
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 jove,  
I cannot tell: but this I am assured,  
I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,  
Such fierce alarms 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 crowned.  
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. Glo. 
I grief I fear me, both at first and last.  Exit Gloucester. Suf. 
Thus Suffolk hath prevailed, 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  
FINIS.   

The second Part of Henry the sixth, with the death of the Good Duke HUMPHREY.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Flourish of Trumpet's: Then Oboes. Enter King, Duke Humphrey, Salisbury, Warwick, and Beauford on the one side. The Queen, 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 Princes Margaret for your Grace;  
So in the Famous Ancient City, Toures,  
In presence of the Kings of France, and Sicill,  
The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Britain, and Alencon,  
Seven Earls, twelve Barons, & twenty reverend Bishops  
I have performed 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 marquis gave,  
The Fairest Queen, that ever King received.  King. 
Suffolk arise. Welcome Queen Margaret,  
I can express no kinder sign of Love  
Then 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. 
Great King of England, & 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. 
Her sight did ravish, but her grace in Speech,  
Her words clad with wisdom's Majesty,  
Makes me from Wondering, fall to Weeping joys,  
Such is the Fullness of my hearts content.  
Lords, with one cheerful voice, Welcome my Love..  All kneel. 
Long live Qu. Margaret, England's happiness.  Queen. 
We thank you all.  Flourish Suf. 
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.  Clo. Reads. 
Inprimis, It is agreed between the French K. Charles, and William de la Pole marquis 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 Main, shall be released and delivered to the King her father.  King. 
Uncle, how now?  Glo. 
Pardon me gracious Lord,  
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart,  
And dimmed mine eyes, that I can read no further.  King. 
Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on.  Win. 
Item, It is further agreed between them, That the Duchess 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. 
They please us well. Lord Marques kneel down,  
We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk,  
And girt thee with the Sword. Cousin of York,  
We here discharge your Grace from being Regent  
I' th' parts of France, till term of eighteen Months  
Be full expyred. Thanks Uncle Winchester,  
Gloster, York, Buckingham, Summersault,  
Salisbury, and Warwick.  
We thank you all for this great favour done,  
In entertainment to my Princely Queen.  
Come, let us in, and with all speed provide  
To see her Coronation be performed.  Exit King, Queen, and Suffolk. Manet the rest. Glo. 
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 Beauford, and myself,  
With all the Learned Counsel of the Realm,  
Studied so long, sat in the Council house,  
Early and late, debating too and fro  
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,  
And hath his Highness in his infancy,  
Crowned in Paris in despite of foes,  
And shall these Labours, and these Honours dye?  
Shall Henry's Conquest, Bedford's vigilance,  
Your Deeds of War, and all our Counsel dye?  
O Peers of England, shameful is this League,  
Fatal this Marriage, cancelling your Fame,  
Blotting your names from Books of memory,  
Racing the Characters of your Renown,  
Defacing Monuments of Conquered France,  
Undoing all as all had never been.  Car. 
Nephew, what means this passionate discourse?  
This preroration with such circumstance:  
For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still.  Glo. 
I 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.  Sal. 
Now by the death of him that died for all,  
These Counties were the Keys of Normandy:  
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?  War. 
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 rend my very hart,  
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.  Hum. 
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—  Car. 
My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot,  
It was the pleasure of my Lord the King.  Hum. 
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 bicker:  
Lordings farewell, and say when I am gone,  
I prophesied, France will be lost ere long.  Exit Humphrey. Car. 
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 Gloster,  
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice,  
jesus 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.  Buc. 
Why should he then protect our Sovereign?  
He being of age to govern of himself.  
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,  
And altogether with the Duke of Suffolk,  
we'll quickly hoist Duke Humphrey from his seat.  Car. 
This weighty business will not brook delay,  
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently.  Exit Cardinal. Som. 
Cousin of Buckingham, though Humfries 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 Gloster be displaced, he'll be Protector.  Buc. 
Or thou, or I Somerset will be Protectors,  
Despite Duke Humphrey, or the Cardinal.  Exit Buckingham, and Summersault. Sal. 
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 Gloster,  
Did bear him like a Noble Gentleman:  
Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal.  
More like a Soldier then a man o' th' 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 feared and honoured 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 Somersets' and Buckingham's Ambition,  
And as we may, cherish Duke Humfries deeds,  
While they do tend the profit of the Land.  War. 
So God help Warwick, as he love's the Land,  
And common profit of his Country.  Yor. 
And so says York,  
For he hath greatest cause.  Salisbury. 
Then let's make hast away,  
And look unto the main.  Warwick. 
Unto the main?  
Oh 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.  Exit Warwick, and Salisbury. Manet York. 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 Courtesans,  
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 bargained for, and sold:  
methinks the Realms of England, France, & Ireland,  
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood,  
As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt,  
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 Nevil's 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, & England's dear bought Queen,  
And Humphrey with the Peers be fall'n at jars:  
Then will I raise aloft the Milke-white-Rose,  
With whose sweet smell the Air shall be perfumed,  
And in 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 pulled fair England down.  Exit York. Enter Duke Humphrey and his wife Elinor. Elia. 
Why droops my Lord like ouer-ripened 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.  Hum. 
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 dreams this night, doth make me sad.  Eli. 
What dreamed my Lord, tell me, and I'll requite it  
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream?  Hum. 
Me thought this staff mine Officebadge in Court  
Was broke in twain: by whom, I have forgot,  
But as I think, it was by ' th' Cardinal,  
And on the pieces of the broken Wand  
Were placed the heads of Edmond Duke of Somerset,  
And William de la Pole first Duke of Suffolk.  
This was my dream, what it doth bode God knows.  Eli. 
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:  
Me thought I sat in Seat of Majesty,  
In the Cathedral Church of Westminster,  
And in that Chair where Kings & Queens were crowned,  
Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me,  
And on my head did set the Diadem.  Hum. 
Nay Elinor, then must I chide outright:  
Presumptuous Dame, ill-nurtered Elinor,  
Art thou not second Woman in the Realm?  
And the Protectors 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 Disgraces feet?  
Away from me, and let me hear no more.  Elia. 
What, what, my Lord? Are you so choleric  
With Elinor, for telling but her dream?  
Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself,  
And not be checked.  Hum. 
Nay be not angry, I am pleased again.  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure,  
You do prepare to ride unto S. Albon,  
Where as the King and Queen do mean to Hawk.  Hu. 
I go. Come Nell thou wilt ride with us?  Ex. Hum Eli. 
Yes my good Lord, I'll follow presently.  
Fellow I must, I cannot go before,  
While Gloster 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, & I.  Enter Hume. Hume. 
jesus preserve your Royal Majesty.  Elia. 
What sayest thou? Majesty: I am but Grace.  Hume. 
But by the grace of God, and Humes advice,  
Your Grace's Title shall be multiplied.  Elia. 
What sayest thou man? Hast thou as yet conferred  
With Margery jordane the cunning Witch,  
With Roger Bolingbroke the Coniuter?  
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.  Elinor. 
It is enough, I'll think upon the Questions:  
When from Saint 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 Elinor. 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 Elinor 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 newmade Duke of Suffolk;  
Yet I do find it so: for to be plain,  
They (knowing Dame Elianors aspiring humour)  
Have hired me to under-mine the Duchess,  
And buzz 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,  
Humes Knavery will be the Duchess Wrack,  
And her Attainture, will be Humphreyes' fall:  
Sort how it will, I shall have Gold for all.  Exit. Enter three or four Petitioners, the Armourers Man being one. 1. Pet. 
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.  2. Pet. 
Marry the Lord protect him, for he's a good man, jesus bless him.  Enter Suffolk, and Queen. Peter. 
Here a comes me thinks, and the Queen with him: I'll be the first sure.  2. Pet. 
Come back fool, this is the Duke of Suffolk, and not my Lord Protector.  Suff. 
How now fellow: wouldst any thing with me?  1. Pet. 
I pray my Lord pardon me, I took ye for my Lord Protector.  Queen. 
To my Lord Protector? Are your Supplications to his Lordship? Let me see them: what is thine?  1. Pet. 
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.  Suff. 
Thy Wife too? that's some Wrong indeed. What's yours? What's here? Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the Commons of Melforde. How now, Sir Knave?  2. Pet. 
Alas Sir, I am but a poor Petitioner of our whole Towneship.  Peter. 
Against my Master Thomas Horner, for saying, That the Duke of York was rightful Heir to the Crown.  Queen. 
What sayest thou? Did the Duke of York say, he was rightful Heir to the Crown?  Peter. 
That my Mistress was? No forsooth: my Master said, That he was, and that the King was an Usurper.  Suff. 
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. Queen. 
And as for you that love to be protected  
Under the Wings of our Protectors Grace,  
Begin your Suits anew, and sue to him.  Tear the Supplication. 
Away, base Cullions: Suffolk let them go.  All. 
Come, let's be gone.  Exit. Queen. 
My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise?  
Is this the Fashions 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 Pool, when in the City Tours  
Thou ranst atilt in honour of my Love,  
And stolest away the Lady's hearts of France;  
I thought King Henry had resembled thee,  
In Courage, Courtship, and Proportion:  
But all his mind is bend to Holiness,  
To number Aue-maries' on his Beads:  
His Champions, are the Prophets and Apostles,  
His Weapons, holy Saws of sacred Writ,  
His Study is his Tiltyard, and his Loves  
Are brazen Images of Canonised 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.  Suff. 
Madame be patiented: as I was cause  
Your Highness came to England, so will I  
In England work your Grace's full content.  Queen. 
Beside the haughty Protector, have we Beauford  
The imperious Churchman; Somerset, Buckingham,  
And grumbling York: and not the least of these,  
But can do more in England then the King.  Suff. 
And he of these, that can do most of all,  
Cannot do more in England then the Nevil's:  
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple Peers.  Queen. 
Not all these Lords do vex me half so much,  
As that proud Dame, the Lord Protectors Wife:  
She sweeps it through the Court with troops of Ladies,  
More like an Empress, than Duke Humphreyes' 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 Callot 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.  Suff. 
Madame, 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 Madame 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.  Exit. Sound a Sennet. Enter the King, Duke Humphrey, Cardinal, Buckingham, York, Salisbury, Warwick, and the Duchess. King. 
For my part, Noble Lords, I care not which,  
Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me.  York. 
If York have ill demeaned himself in France,  
Then let him be denied the Regent-ship.  Som. 
If Somerset be unworthy of the Place,  
Let York be Regent, I will yield to him.  Warw. 
Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no,  
Dispute not that, York is the worthier.  Card. 
Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.  Warw. 
The cardinal's not my better in the field.  Buck. 
All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.  Warw. 
Warwick may live to be the best of all.  Salisb. 
Peace Son, and show some reason Buckingham  
Why Somerset should be preferred in this?  Queen. 
Because the King forsooth will have it so.  Humf. 
Madame, the King is old enough himself  
To give his Censure: These are no women's matters.  Queen. 
If he be old enough, what needs your Grace  
To be Protector of his Excellence?  Humf. 
Madame, I am Protector of the Realm,  
And at his pleasure will resign my Place.  Suff. 
Resign it then, and leave thine insolence.  
Since thou wert King; as who is King, but thou?  
The Commonwealth hath daily run to wrack,  
The Dolphin hath prevailed beyond the Seas,  
And all the Peers and Nobles of the Realm  
Have been as Bondmen to thy Sovereignty.  Card. 
The Commons hast thou racked, the Clergies Bags  
Are lank and lean with thy Extortions.  Som. 
Thy sumptuous Buildings, and thy Wife's Attire  
Have cost a mass of public Treasury.  Buck. 
Thy Cruelty in execution  
Upon Offenders, hath exceeded Law,  
And left thee to the mercy of the Law.  Queen. 
Thy 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 Humphrey. 
Give me my Fan: what, Minion, can ye not?  She gives the Duchess a box on the care. 
I cry you mercy, Madame: was it you?  Duch. 
Was't I? yea, I it was, proud French-woman:  
Can I come near your Beauty with my Nails,  
I could set my ten Commandments in your face.  King. 
Sweet Aunt be quiet, 'twas against her will.  Duch. 
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 Elinor unrevenged.  Exit Elinor. Buck. 
Lord Cardinal, I will follow Elinor,  
And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds:  
she's tickled now, her Fume needs no spurs,  
she'll gallop fare enough to her destruction.  Exit Buckingham. Enter Humphrey. Humf. 
Now Lords, my Choler being overblown,  
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.  Suff. 
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 Dolphin's hands:  
Last time I danced attendance on his will,  
Till Paris was besieged, famished, and lost.  Warw. 
That can I witness, and a fouler fact  
Did never Traitor in the Land commit.  Suff. 
Peace headstrong Warwick.  Warw. 
Image of Pride, why should I hold my peace?  Enter Armorer and his Man. Suff. 
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. 
What meanest thou, Suffolk? tell me, what are these?  Suff. 
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 an Usurper.  King. 
Say man, were these thy words?  Armorer. 
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 rigour of the Law.  Armorer. 
Alas, my Lord, hang me if ever I spoke the words: my accuser is my Apprentice, 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. 
Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?  Humf. 
This doom, my Lord, if I may judge:  
Let Somerset be Regent o'er 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 Humfrey's doom.  Som. 
I humbly thank your Royal Majesty.  Armorer. 
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.  Humf. 
Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hanged.  King. 
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. Enter the Witch, the two Priests, and Bullingbrooke. Hume. 
Come my Masters, the Duchess I tell you expects performance of your promises.  Bulling. 
Master Hume, we are therefore provided: will her Ladyship behold and hear our Exorcisms?  Hume. 
I, what else? fear you not her courage.  Bulling. 
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 jordan, be you prostrate, and grovel on the Earth; john Southwell read you, and let us to our work.  Enter Elinor aloft. Elinor. 
Well said my Masters, and welcome all: To this gear, the sooner the better.  Bullin. 
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 Bandogs howl,  
And Spirits walk, and Ghosts break up their Graves;  
That time best fits the work we have in hand.  
Madame, sit you, and fear not: whom we raise,  
We will make fast within a hallowed Verge.  Here do the Ceremonies belonging, and make the Circle, Bullingbrooke or Southwell reads, Coniuro te, etc. It Thunders and Lightens terribly: then the Spirit riseth. Spirit. 
Ad sum.  Witch. 
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.  Bulling. 
First of the King: What shall of him become?  Spirit. 
The Duke yet life's, that Henry shall depose:  
But him outlive, and dye a violent death.  Bulling. 
What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?  Spirit. 
By Water shall he dye, and take his end.  Bulling. 
What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?  Spirit. 
Let him shun Castles,  
Safer shall he be upon the sandy Plains,  
Then where Castles mounted stand.  
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.  Bulling. 
Descend to Darkness, and the burning Lake:  
False Fiend avoid.  Thunder and Lightning. Exit Spirit. Enter the Duke of York and the Duke of Buckingham with their Guard, and break in. York. 
Lay hands upon these Traitors, and their trash:  
Beldame I think we watched you at an inch.  
What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweal  
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains;  
My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not,  
See you well guerdoned for these good deserts.  Elinor. 
Not half so bad as thine to England's King,  
Injurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause.  Buck. 
True Madame, none at all: what call you this?  
Away with them, let them be clapped up close,  
And kept asunder: you Madame shall with us.  
Stafford take her to thee.  
we'll see your Trinkets here all forthcoming.  
All away.  Exit. York. 
Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watched 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 life's, that Henry shall depose:  
But him out-line, and dye a violent death.  
Why this is just Aio Aeacida Romanos vincere posso.  
Well, to the rest:  
Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?  
By Water shall he dye, and take his end.  
What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?  
Let him shun Castles,  
Safer shall he be upon the sandy Plains,  
Then where Castles mounted stand.  
Come, come, my Lords,  
These Oracles are hardly attained,  
And hardly understood.  
The King is now in progress towards Saint Alban's,  
With him, the Husband of this lovely Lady:  
Thither goes these News,  
As fast as Horse can carry them:  
A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector.  Buck. 
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. Enter the King, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Falconer's hallowing. Queen. 
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 joane had not gone out.  King. 
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.  Suff. 
No marvel, and it like your Majesty,  
My Lord Protectors Hawks do tower so well,  
They know their Master love's to be aloft,  
And bears his thoughts above his Falcon's Pitch.  Glost. 
My Lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind,  
That mounts no higher than a Bird can sore:  Card. 
I thought as much, he would be above the Clouds.  Glost. 
I my Lord Cardinal, how think you by that?  
Were it not good your Grace could fly to Heaven?  King. 
The Treasury of everlasting joy.  Card. 
Thy Heaven is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts  
Beat on a Crown, the Treasure of thy Heart,  
Pernicious Protector, dangerous Peer,  
That smoothest it so with King and Commonweal.  Glost. 
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?  Suff. 
No malice Sir, no more than well becomes  
So good a Quarrel, and so bad a Peer.  Glost. 
As who, my Lord?  Suff. 
Why, as you, my Lord,  
An't like your Lordly Lords Protectorship.  Glost. 
Why Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.  Queen. 
And thy Ambition, Gloster.  King. 
I prithee peace, good Queen,  
And whet not on these furious Peers,  
For bl● 〈◊〉 the Peacemakers on Earth.  Ca● 
〈◊〉 me be blessed for the Peace I make  
Against this proud Protector with my Sword.  Glost. 
Faith holy Uncle, will't were come to that.  Card. 
Marry, when thou darest.  Glost. 
Make up no factious numbers for the matter,  
In thine own person answer thy abuse.  Card. 
I, where thou darest not peep:  
And if thou darest, this Evening,  
On the East side of the Grove.  King. 
How now, my Lords?  Card. 
Believe me, Cousin Gloster,  
Had not your man put up the Fowl so suddenly,  
We had had more sport.  
Come with thy twohand Sword.  Glost. 
True Uncle, are ye advised?  
The East side of the Grove:  
Cardinal, I am with you.  King. 
Why how now, Uncle Gloster?  Glost. 
Talking of Hawking; nothing else, my Lord.  
Now by God's Mother, Priest,  
I'll shave your Crown for this,  
Or all my Fence shall fail.  Card. 
Medice te●psum, Protector see to't well, protect yourself.  King. 
The Winds grow high,  
So do your Stomaches, 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 one crying a Miracle. Glost. 
What means this noise?  
Fellow, what Miracle dost thou proclaim?  One. 
A Miracle, a Miracle.  Suffolk. 
Come to the King, and tell him what Miracle.  One. 
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. 
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 the man between two in a Chair. Card. 
Here comes the Townsmen, on Procession,  
To present your Highness with the man.  King. 
Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale,  
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.  Glost. 
Stand by, my Masters; bring him near the King,  
His Highness' pleasure is to talk with him.  King. 
Goodfellow, tell us here the circumstance,  
That we for thee may glorify the Lord.  
What, hast thou been long blind, and now restored?  Simpc. 
Born blind, an't please your Grace.  Wife. 
I indeed was he.  Suff. 
What Woman is this?  Wife. 
His Wife, an't like your Worship.  Glost. 
Hadst thou been his Mother, thou couldst have better told.  King. 
Where wert thou borne?  Simpc. 
At Barwick in the North, an't like your Grace.  King. 
Poor Soul,  
God's goodness hath been great to thee:  
Let never Day nor Night unhallowed pass,  
But still remember what the Lord hath done.  Queen. 
Tell me, goodfellow,  
Cam'st thou here by Chance, or of Devotion,  
To this holy Shrine?  Simpc. 
God knows of pure Devotion,  
Being called a hundred times, and oftener,  
In my sleep, by good Saint Albon:  
Who said; Simon, 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.  Card. 
What, art thou lame?  Simpc. 
I, God Almighty help me.  Suff. 
How cam'st thou so?  Simpc. 
A fall off of a Tree.  Wife. 
A Plum-tree, Master.  Glost. 
How long hast thou been blind?  Simpc. 
O borne so, Master.  Glost. 
What, and wouldst climb a Tree?  Simpc. 
But that in all my life, when I was a youth.  Wife. 
Too true, and bought his climbing very dear.  Glost. 
‛ Mass, thou lov'dst Plums well, that wouldst venture so.  Simpc. 
Alas, good Master, my Wife desired some Damsons, and made me climb, with danger of my Life.  Glost. 
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.  Simpc. 
Yes Master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban's.  Glost. 
Sayest thou me so: what Colour is this Cloak of?  Simpc. 
Red Master, Red as Blood.  Glost. 
Why that's well said: What Colour is my Gown of?  Simpc. 
Black forsooth, Coal-black, as jet.  King. 
Why then, thou knowst what Colour jet is of?  Suff. 
And yet I think, jet did he never see.  Glost. 
But Cloaks and Gowns, before this day, a many.  Wife. 
Never before this day, in all his life.  Glost. 
Tell me Sirrah, what's my Name?  Simpc. 
Alas Master, I know not.  Glost. 
What's his Name?  Simpc. 
I know not.  Glost. 
Nor his?  Simpc. 
No indeed, Master.  Glost. 
What's thine own Name?  Simpc. 
Saunder Simpcoxe, and if it please you, Master.  Glost. 
Then Saunder, sit there,  
The lying'st Knave in Christendom.  
If thou hadst been borne blind,  
Thou mightst 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 Albone here hath done a Miracle:  
And would ye not think it, Cunning to be great,  
That could restore this Cripple to his Legs again.  Simpc. 
O Master, that you could?  Glost. 
My Masters of Saint Alban's,  
Have you not Beadles in your Town,  
And Things called Whips?  Maior. 
Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace.  Glost. 
Then send for one presently.  Maior. 
Sirrah, go fetch the Beadle hither strait.  Exit. Glost. 
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.  Simpc. 
Alas Master, I am not able to stand alone:  
You go about to torture me in vain.  Enter a Beadle with Whips. Glost. 
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.  Simpc. 
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. 
O God, seest thou this, and bearest so long?  Queen. 
It made me laugh, to see the Villain run.  Glost. 
Fellow the Knave, and take this Drab away.  Wife. 
Alas Sir, we did it for pure need.  Glost. 
Let them be whipped through every Market Town,  
Till they come to Barwick, from whence they came.  Exit. Card. 
Duke Humphrey has done a Miracle to day.  Suff. 
True: made the Lame to leap and fly away.  Glost. 
But you have done more Miracles than I:  
You made in a day, my Lord, whole Towns to fly.  Enter Buckingham. King. 
What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?  Buck. 
Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold:  
A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bend,  
Under the Countenance and Confederacy  
Of Lady Elinor, the Protectors 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.  Card. 
And so my Lord Protector, by this means  
Your Lady is forthcoming, yet at London.  
This News I think hath turned your Weapons edge;  
'Tis like, my Lord, you will not keep your hour.  Glost. 
Ambitious Churchman, leave to afflict my heart:  
Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers;  
And vanquished as I am, I yield to thee,  
Or to the meanest Groom.  King. 
O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones?  
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby.  Queen. 
Gloster, see here the Taincture of thy Nest,  
And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.  Glost. 
Madame, for myself, to Heaven I do appease,  
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 dishonoured Gloucester's honest Name.  King. 
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. Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick. York. 
Now my good Lords of Salisbury & 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.  Salisb. 
My Lord, I long to hear it at full.  Warw. 
Sweet York begin: and if thy claim be good,  
The Nevills 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 fift, was Edmond Langley, Duke of York;  
The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloster;  
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, reigned as King,  
Till Henry Bullingbrooke, Duke of Lancaster,  
The eldest Son and Heir of john of Gaunt,  
Crowned 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 Pumfret; where, as all you know,  
Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously.  Warw. 
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 reigned.  Salisb. 
But William of Hatfield died without an Heir.  York. 
The third Son Duke of Clarence,  
From whose Line I claim the Crown,  
Had Issue Philip, a Daughter,  
Who married Edmond Mortimer, Earl of March:  
Edmond had Issue, Roger, Earl of March;  
Roger had Issue, Edmond, Anne, and Elinor.  Salisb. 
This Edmond, in the Reign of Bullingbrooke,  
As I have read, laid claim unto the Crown,  
And but for Owen Glendour, 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 to Edmond Langley,  
Edward the thirds fift Son's Son;  
By her I claim the Kingdom:  
She was Heir to Roger, Earl of March,  
Who was the Son of Edmond Mortimer,  
Who married Philip, sole Daughter  
Unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.  
So, if the Issue of the elder Son  
Succeed before the younger, I am King.  Warw. 
What plain proceed is more plain than this?  
Henry doth claim the Crown from john of Gaunt,  
The fourth Son, York claims it from the third:  
Till Lionels 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 Crowned,  
And that my Sword be stained  
With heartblood of the House of Lancaster:  
And that's not suddenly to be performed,  
But with advice and silent secrecy.  
Do you as I do in these dangerous days,  
Wink at the Duke of Saffolkes' insolence,  
At Beauford's Pride, at Somersets' 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 Yorke ●an prophesy.  Salisb. 
My Lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.  Warw. 
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. Sound Trumpet's. Enter the King and State, with Guard, to banish the Duchess. King. 
Stand forth Dame Elinor Cobham, Gloucester's Wife:  
In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great,  
Receive the Sentence of the Law for sin,  
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 burnt to ashes,  
And you three shall be strangled on the Gallows.  
You Madame, for you are more Nobly-borne,  
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 I'll of Man.  Elinor. 
Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my Death.  Glost. 
Elinor, the Law thou seest hath judged thee,  
I cannot justify whom the Law condemns:  
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. 
Stay Humphrey, Duke of Gloster,  
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,  
Then when thou wert Protector to thy King.  Queen. 
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.  Glost. 
My Staff? Here, Noble Henry, is my Staff:  
As willingly do I the same resign,  
As ere 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 Gloster. Queen. 
Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen,  
And Humphrey, Duke of Gloster, scarce himself,  
That bears so shrewd a maim: two Pulls at once;  
His Lady banished, and a Limb lopped off.  
This Staff of Honour reached, there let it stand,  
Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand.  Suff. 
Thus droops this lofty Pine, & hangs his sprays,  
Thus Elianors 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. 
I, good my Lord: for purposely therefore  
Left I the Court, to see this Quarrel tried.  King. 
A Gods Name see the Lifts and all things fit,  
Here let them end it, and God defend the right.  York. 
I never saw a fellow worse bestead,  
Or more afraid to fight, then is the Appellant,  
The servant of this Armourer, my Lords.  Enter at one Door 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 Sandbag fastened to it: and at the other Door his Man, with a Drum and Sandbag, and Prentices drinking to him. 1. Neighbor. 
Here Neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a Cup of Sack; and fear not Neighbour, you shall do well enough.  2. Neighbor. 
And here Neighbour, here's a Cup of Charneco.  3. Neighbor. 
And here's a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor: drink, and fear not your Man.  Armorer. 
Let it come i'faith, and I'll pledge you all, and a fig for Peter.  1. Prent. 
Here Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid.  2. Prent. 
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, and 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 learned so much fence already.  Salisb. 
Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.  
Sirrah, what's thy Name?  Peter. 
Peter forsooth.  Salisb. 
Peter? what more?  Peter. 
Thump.  Salisb. 
Thump? Then see thou thump thy Master well.  Armorer. 
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 gins to double.  
Sound Trumpet's, Alarm to the Combatants.  They fight, and Peter strikes him down. Armorer. 
Hold Peter, hold, I confess, I confess Treason.  York. 
Take away his Weapon: Fellow thank God, and the good Wine in thy Master's way.  Peter. 
O God, have I overcome mine Enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right.  King. 
Go, take hence that Traitor from our sight,  
For by 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 murdered wrongfully.  
Come fellow, follow us for thy Reward.  Sound a flourish. Exeunt. Enter Duke Humphrey and his Men in Mourning Cloaks. Glost. 
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, at Seasons fleet.  
Sirs, what's a Clock?  Seru. 
Ten, my Lord.  Glost. 
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,  
To watch the coming of my punished Duchess:  
Uneath may she endure the Flinty Streets,  
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.  
Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Mind abrooke  
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 teare-stayned eyes, to see her Miseries.  Enter the Duchess in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her hand, with the Sheriff and Officers. Seru. 
So please your Grace, we'll take her from the Sheriff.  Gloster. 
No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.  Elinor. 
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 Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks,  
And in thy Closet penned up, rue my shame,  
And ban thine Enemies, both mine and thine.  Glost. 
Be patiented, gentle Nell, forget this grief.  Elinor. 
Ah Gloster, 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,  
Mayled up in shame, with Papers on my back,  
And followed with a Rabble, that rejoice  
To see my tears, and hear my deepe-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?  
Trowest thou, that ere I'll look upon the World,  
Or count them happy, that enjoys the Sun?  
No: Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day.  
To think upon my Pomp, shall be my Hell.  
Sometime I'll say, I am Duke Humfrey'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 Beauford, 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.  Glost. 
Ah Nell, forbear: thou aymest 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 crimelesse.  
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 day's wonder will be quickly worn:  Enter a Herald. Her. 
I summon your Grace to his Majesty's Parliament,  
Holden at Bury, the first of this next Month.  Glost. 
And my consent ne'er asked herein before?  
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there.  
My Nell, I take my leave: and Master Sheriff,  
Let not her Penance exceed the King's Commission.  Sh. 
an't please your Grace, here my Commission stays:  
And Sir john Stanley is appointed now,  
To take her with him to the I'll of Man.  Glost. 
Must you, Sir john, protect my Lady here?  Stanley. 
So am I given in charge, may't please your Grace.  Glost. 
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.  Elinor. 
What, gone my Lord, and bid me not farewell?  Glost. 
Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.  Exit Gloster. Elinor. 
Art thou gone to? all comfort go with thee,  
For none abides with me: my joy, is Death;  
Death, at whose Name I oft have been afeared,  
Because I wished 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, Madame, that is to the I'll of Man,  
There to be used according to your State.  Elinor. 
That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:  
And shall I then be used reproachfully?  Stanley. 
Like to a Duchess, and Duke Humfrey's Lady,  
According to that State you shall be used.  Elinor. 
Sheriff farewell, and better than I far,  
Although thou hast been Conduct of my shame.  Sheriff. 
It is my Office, and Madame pardon me.  Elinor. 
I, I, farewell, thy Office is discharged:  
Come Stanley, shall we go?  Stanley. 
Madame, your Penance done,  
Throw off this Sheet,  
And go we to attire you for our journey.  Elinor. 
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 Sound a Senet. Enter King, Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the Parliament. King. 
I muse my Lord of Gloster is not come:  
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,  
What e'er occasion keeps him from us now.  Queen. 
Can you not see? or will ye not observe  
The strangeness of his altered 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 bis 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 rores,  
And Humphrey is no little Man in England.  
First note, that he is near you in descent,  
And should you fall, he is 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 feared 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 reverend 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 wronged the Duke.  
My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,  
Reprove my allegation, if you can,  
Or else conclude my words effectual.  Suff. 
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 Graces Tale.  
The Duchess, by his subornation,  
Upon my Life began her devilish practices:  
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 brainsick 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, Glouster is a man  
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.  Card. 
Did he not, contrary to form of Law,  
Device 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.  Buck. 
Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown,  
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.  King. 
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 Gloster is as innocent,  
From meaning Treason to our Royal Person,  
As is the sucking Lamb, or harmless Done:  
The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given,  
To dream on evil, or to work my downfall.  Qu. 
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▪ Wolves.  
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 Summersault. Som. 
All health unto my gracious Sovereign.  King. 
Welcome Lord Somerset: What News from France?  Som. 
That all your Interest in those Territories,  
Is utterly bereft you: all is lost.  King. 
Cold News, Lord Somerset: but Gods will be done.  York. 
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. Glost. 
All happiness unto my Lord the King:  
Pardon, my Liege, that I have stayed so long.  Suff. 
Nay Gloster, know that thou art come too soon,  
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art:  
I do arrest thee of High Treason here.  Glost. 
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.  Glost. 
Is it but thought so?  
What are they that think it?  
I never robbed the Soldiers of their pay,  
Nor ever had one penny Bribe from France.  
So help me God, as I have watched the Night,  
I, Night by Night, in studying good for England.  
That Doyt that ere 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 dispursed to the Garrisons,  
And never asked for restitution.  Card. 
It serves you well, my Lord, to say so much.  Glost. 
I say no more than truth, so help me God.  York. 
In your Protectorship, you did device  
Strange Tortures for Offenders, never heard of,  
That England was defamed by Tyranny.  Glost. 
Why 'tis well known, that whiles I was Protector,  
Pity was all the fault that was in me:  
For I should melt at an Offenders 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.  Suff. 
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. 
My Lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope,  
That you will clear yourself from all suspense,  
My Conscience tells me you are innocent.  glossed 
Ah gracious Lord, these days are dangerous:  
Virtue is choked with foul Ambition,  
And Charity chased hence by Rancours hand;  
Fowl 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.  
Beauford'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 pluckt-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 stirred up  
My liefest Liege to be mine Enemy:  
I, all of 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.  Card. 
My Liege, his railing is intolerable.  
If those that care to keep your Royal Person  
From Treasons secret Knife, and Traitor's Rage,  
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,  
And the Offender granted scope of speech,  
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace.  Suff. 
Hath he not twit our Sovereign Lady here  
With ignominious words, though clarkly couched?  
As if she had suborned some to swear  
False allegations, to o'erthrow his state.  Qu. 
But I can give the loser leave to chide.  Glost. 
Fare truer spoke than meant: I lose indeed,  
Beshrew the winners, for they played me false,  
And well such losers may have leave to speak.  Buck. 
he'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.  
Lord Cardinal, he is your Prisoner.  Card. 
Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure.  Glost. 
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 Gloster, King. 
My Lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best,  
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.  Queen. 
What, will your Highness leave the Parliament?  King. 
I Margaret: my heart is drowned with grief,  
Whose flood gins 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 ere I proved thee false, or feared thy faith.  
What lowering 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 naught but wail her Darlings loss;  
Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case  
With sad unhelpefull tears, and with dimmed 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? Gloster he is none.  Exit. Queen. 
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, rolled in a flowering Bank,  
With shining chequered 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 Gloster should be quickly rid the World,  
To rid us from the fear we have of him.  Card. 
That he should dye, is worthy policy,  
But yet we want a Colour for his death:  
'Tis meet he be condemned by course of Law.  Suff. 
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 dye.  Suff. 
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 Kyte,  
As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector?  Queen. 
So the poor Chicken should be sure of death.  Suff. 
Madame '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 dye, in that he is a Fox,  
By nature proved an Enemy to the Flock,  
Before his Chaps be stained 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. 
Thrice Noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.  Suff. 
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.  Card. 
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.  Suff. 
Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing.  Queen. 
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 Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime,  
Before the Wound do grow uncurable;  
For being green, there is great hope of help.  Card. 
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 employed,  
Witness the fortune he hath had in France.  Som. 
If York, with all his far-fet policy,  
Had been the Regent there, in stead of me,  
He never would have stayed in France so long.  York. 
No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done,  
I rather would have lost my Life betimes,  
Then bring a burden of dis-honour home,  
By staying there so long, till all were lost.  
Show me one scar, charactered on thy Skin,  
men's flesh preserved so whole, do seldom win.  Qu. 
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 fare worse than his.  York. 
What, worse than naught? nay, than a shame take all.  Somerset. 
And in the number, thee, that wishest shame.  Card. 
My Lord of York, try what your fortune is:  
Th' 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.  Suff. 
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.  Suff. 
A charge, Lord York, that I will see performed.  
But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.  Card. 
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.  Suff. 
I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York.  Exeunt. Mavet York. York. 
Now York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,  
And change misdoubt to resolution;  
Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art;  
Resign to death, it is not worth th' enjoying:  
Let palefaced fear keep with the meane-borne man,  
And find no harbour in a Royal heart.  
Faster than Springtime 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 cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts.  
'Twas men I lacked, and you will give them me;  
I take it kindly: 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 sharpe-quilled Porpentine:  
And in the end being rescued, I have seen  
Him capre upright, like a wild Morisco,  
Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.  
Full often, like a shag-hayred crafty Kern,  
Hath he conversed with the Enemy,  
And undiscovered, come to me again,  
And given me notice of their Villainies.  
This Devil here shall be my substitute;  
For that john Mortimer, which now is dead,  
In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble.  
By this, I shall perceive the Commons mind,  
How they affect the House and Clayme of York.  
Say he be taken, racked, 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 sowed.  
For Humphrey; being dead, as he shall be,  
And Henry put apart: the next for me.  Exit. Enter two or three running over the Stage, from the Murder of Duke Humphrey. 1. 
Run to my Lord of Suffolk: let him know  
We have dispatched the Duke, as he commanded▪  2. 
Oh, that it were to do: what have we done?  
Didst ever hear a man so penitent?  Enter Suffolk. 1. 
Here comes my Lord.  Suff. 
Now Sirs, have you dispatched this thing?  1. 
I, my good Lord, he's dead.  Suff. 
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?  1. 
'Tis, my good Lord.  Suff. 
Away, be gone.  Exeunt. Sound Trumpet's. Enter the King, the Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, Somerset, with Attendants. King. 
Go call our Uncle to our presence strait:  
Say, we intent to try his Grace to day,  
If he be guilty, as 'tis published.  Suff. 
I'll call him presently, my Noble Lord.  Exit. King. 
Lords take your places: and I pray you all  
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our Uncle Gloster,  
Then from true evidence, of good esteem,  
He be approved in practice culpable.  Queen. 
God forbidden any Malice should prevail,  
That faultless may condemn a Noble man:  
Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion.  King. 
I thank thee Nell, these words content me much.  Enter Suffolk. 
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?  
Where is our Uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk?  Suff. 
Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloster is dead.  Queen. 
Marry God forfend.  Card. 
God's secret judgement: I did dream to Night,  
The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word.  King sounds. Qu. 
How fares my Lord? Help Lords, the King is dead.  Som. 
Rear up his Body, wring him by the Nose.  Qu. 
Run, go, help, help: Oh Henry open thine eyes.  Suff. 
He doth revive again, Madame be patiented.  King. 
Oh Heavenly God.  Qu. 
How fares my gracious Lord?  Suff. 
Comfort my Sovereign, gracious Henry comfort.  King. 
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 sugared 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 eyeballs, 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 Gloster's dead.  Queen. 
Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus?  
Although the Duke was enemy to him,  
Yet he most Christianlike 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 Slanders tongue be wounded,  
And Prince's Courts be filled with my reproach:  
This get I by his death: Ay me unhappy,  
To be a Queen, and Crowned with infamy.  King. 
Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man.  Queen. 
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 waxed deaf?  
Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen.  
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's Tomb?  
Why then Dame Elinor was near thy joy.  
Erect his Statue, and worship it,  
And make my Image but an Alehouse sign.  
Was I for this nigh wracked upon the Sea,  
And twice by awkward wind from England's bank  
Driven 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 drowned on shore  
With tears as salt as Sea, through thy unkindness.  
The splitting Rocks cowred 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 Elinor.  
As fare 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 Lands view,  
I took a costly jewel from my neck,  
A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,  
And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea received it,  
And so I wished 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 called 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 watch me as Ascanius did,  
When he to madding Dido would unfold  
His Father's Acts, commenced in burning Troy.  
Am I not witched like her? Or thou not false like him?  
Ay me, I can no more: die Elinor,  
For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long.  Noise within. Enter Warwick, and many Commons. War. 
It is reported, mighty Sovereign,  
That good Duke Humphrey Traitorously is murdered  
By Suffolk, and the Cardinal Beauford'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 calmed their spleenful mutiny,  
Until they hear the order of his death.  King. 
That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true,  
But how he died, God knows, not Henry:  
Enter his Chamber, view his breathless Corpses,  
And comment then upon his sudden death.  War. 
That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salisbury  
With the rude multitude, till I return.  King. 
O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts;  
My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul,  
Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life:  
If my suspect be false, forgive me God,  
For judgement only doth belong to thee:  
Feign 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,  Bed put forth. 
And to survey his dead and earthy Image:  
What were it but to make my sorrow greater?  Warw. 
Come hither gracious Sovereign, view this body.  King. 
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.  War. 
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.  Suf. 
A dreadful Oath, sworn with a solemn tongue:  
What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow.  War. 
See how the blood is settled in his face.  
Oft have I seen a timely-parted Ghost,  
Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodless,  
Being all descended to the labouring heart,  
Who in the Conflict that it holds with death,  
Attracts the same for aydance '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 eyeballs further out, than when he lived,  
Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man:  
His hair up reared, his nostrils stretched with struggling:  
His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped  
And tugged for Life, and was by strength subdued.  
Look on the sheets his hair (you see) is sticking,  
His well proportioned Beard, made ruff and rugged,  
Like to the Summers Come by Tempest lodged:  
It cannot be but he was murdered here,  
The least of all these signs were probable.  Suf. 
Why Warwick, who should do the D. to death?  
Myself and Beauford had him in protection,  
And we I hope sir, are no murderers.  War. 
But both of you were vowed D. Humfries 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. 
Than you belike suspect these Noblemen,  
As guilty of Duke Humfries timeless death.  Warw. 
Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,  
And sees fastby, 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 unbloudied Beak?  
Even so suspicious is this Tragedy.  Qu. 
Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knife?  
Is Beauford termed a Kite? where are his Talons?  Suff. 
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 Murders Crimson Badge.  
Say, if thou darest, proud Lord of Warwickshire,  
That I am faulty in Duke Humfrey's death.  Warw. 
What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?  Qu. 
He dares not calm his contumelious Spirit,  
Nor cease to be an arrogant Controller,  
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.  Warw. 
Madame be still: with reverence may I say,  
For every word you speak in his behalf,  
Is slander to your Royal Dignity.  Suff. 
Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanour,  
If ever Lady wronged her Lord so much,  
Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed  
Some stern vntutured Churl; and Noble Stock  
Was grafted with Crabtree slip, whose Fruit thou art,  
And never of the Nevil's Noble Race.  Warw. 
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 meantest,  
That thou thyself wast borne in Bastardy;  
And after all this fearful Homage done,  
Give thee thy hire, and send thy Soul to Hell,  
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men.  Suff. 
Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood,  
If from this presence thou darest go with me.  Warw. 
Away even now, or I will drag thee hence:  
Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,  
And do some service to Duke Humfrey's Ghost.  Exeunt. King. 
What stronger Breastplate than a heart untainted?  
Thrice is he armed, that hath his Quarrel just;  
And he but naked, though locked up in Steel,  
Whose Conscience with Injustice is corrupted.  A noise within. Queen. 
What noise is this?  Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their Weapons drawn. King. 
Why how now Lords?  
Your wrathful Weapons drawn,  
Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold?  
Why what tumultuous clamour have we here?  Suff. 
The traitorous Warwick, with the men of Bury,  
Set all upon me, mighty Sovereign.  Enter Salisbury. Salisb. 
Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your mind.  
Dread Lord, the Commons send you word by me,  
Unless Lord Suffolk strait 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 intent to sleep,  
And charge, that no man should disturb your rest,  
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death;  
Yet notwithstanding such a straight Edict,  
Were there a Serpent seen, with forked Tongue,  
That slyly glided towards your Majesty,  
It were but necessary you were waked:  
Lest being suffered in that harmful slumber,  
The mortal Worm might make the sleep eternal.  
And therefore do they cry, though you forbidden,  
That they will guard you, where 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.  Suff. 
'Tis like the Commons, rude unpolisht Hinds,  
Can send such Message to their Sovereign:  
But you, my Lord, were glad to be employed,  
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.  Within. 
An answer from the King, or we will all break in.  King. 
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 farre-unworthie Deputy I am,  
He shall not breathe infection in this air,  
But three days longer, on the pain of death.  Qu. 
Oh Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk.  King. 
Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.  
No more I sayd 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.  Exit. Qu. 
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.  Suff. 
Cease, gentle Queen, these Execrations,  
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.  Queen. 
Fie Coward woman, and soft hearted wretch,  
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy.  Suf. 
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 cursed, as harsh, and horrible to hear,  
Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth,  
With full as many fignes 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 an end, as one distracted:  
I, every joint should seem to curse and ban,  
And even now my burdened 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 Lyzards stings:  
Their Music, frightful as the Serpent's hiss,  
And boding Screech-owls, make the Consort full.  
All the foul terrors in dark seated hell—  Q. 
Enough sweet Suffolk, thou tormentest thyself,  
And these dread curses like the Sun 'gainst glass,  
Or like an overcharged Gun, recoil,  
And turns the force of them upon thyself.  Suf. 
You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?  
Now by the ground that I am banished 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.  Qu. 
Oh, let me entreat thee cease, give me thy hand,  
That I may due it with my mournful tea●es:  
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,  
To wash away my woeful Monuments.  
Oh, 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.  
Oh go not yet. Even thus, two Friends condemned,  
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,  
Loather a hundred times to part then dye;  
Yet now farewell, and farewell Life with thee.  Suf. 
Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,  
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.  
'Tis not the Land I care for, were't 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. 
Whether goes Vaux so fast? What news I prithee?  Vaux. 
To signify unto his Majesty,  
That Cardinal Beauford 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.  
Sometime he talks, as if Duke Humfries 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.  Qu. 
Go tell this heavy Message to the King.  Exit 
Ay me! What is this World? What news are these?  
But wherefore grieve I at an hours 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 knowst is coming,  
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.  Suf. 
If I depart from thee, I cannot live,  
And in thy sight to dye, 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 dye by thee, were but to dye in jest,  
From thee to dye, were torture more than death:  
Oh let me stay, befall what may befall.  Queen. 
Away: Though parting be a fretful corosive,  
It is applied to a deathful wound.  
To France sweet Suffolk: Let me hear from thee:  
For wheresoever thou art in this world's Globe,  
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.  Suf. 
I go.  Qu. 
And take my heart with thee.  Suf. 
A jewel locked into the woefull'st Cask,  
That ever did contain a thing of worth,  
Even as a split Bark, so sunder we:  
This way fall I to death.  Qu. 
This way for me.  Exeunt Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the Cardinal in bed. King. 
How fares my Lord? Speak Beauford to thy Sovereign.  Ca 
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. 
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,  
Where death's approach is seen so terrible.  War. 
Beauford, it is thy Sovereign speaks to thee.  Beau. 
Bring me unto my Trial when you will.  
Died he not in his bed? Where should he dye?  
Can I make men live where they will or no?  
Oh 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. 
Oh thou eternal mover of the heavens,  
Look with a gentle eye upon this Wretch,  
Oh beat away the busy meddling Fiend,  
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,  
And from his bosom purge this black despair.  War. 
See how the pangs of death do make him grin.  Sal. 
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.  King. 
Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be.  
Lord Cardinal, if thou thinkest on heaven's bliss,  
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.  
He dies and makes no sign: Oh God forgive him.  War. 
So bad a death, argues a monstrous life.  King. 
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.  
Close up his eyes, and draw the Curtain close,  
And let us all to Meditation.  Exeunt. Alarm. Fight at Sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Lieutenant, Suffolk, and others. Lieu. 
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  
Cleape dead-men's graves, and from their misty jaws,  
Breath 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 discoloured 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.  1. Gent. 
What is my ransom Master, let me know.  Ma. 
A thousand Crowns, or else lay down your head  Mate. 
And so much shall you give, or oft goes yours.  Lieu. 
What think you much to pay 2000 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 counter-poysed with such a petty sum.  1. Gent. 
I'll give it sir, and therefore spare my life.  2. Gent. 
And so will I, and writ home for it strait.  Whitm. 
I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,  
And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou dye,  
And so should these, if I might have my will.  Lieu. 
Be not so rash, take ransom, let him live.  Suf. 
Look on my George, I am a Gentleman,  
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.  Whit. 
And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.  
How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright?  Suf. 
Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death:  
A cunning man did calculate my birth,  
And told me that by Water I should dye:  
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,  
Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded.  Whit. 
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 Merchantlike I sell revenge,  
Broke be my sword, my Arms torn and defaced,  
And I proclaimed a Coward through the world.  Suf. 
Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince,  
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.  Whit▪ 
The Duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags?  Suf. 
I, but these rags are no part of the Duke.  Lieu. 
But jove was never slain as thou shalt be,  
Obscure and lousy Swain, King Henry's blood.  Suf. 
The honourable blood of Lancaster  
Must not be shed by such a jaded Groom:  
Hast thou not kissed thy hand, and held my stirrup?  
Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth Mule,  
And thought thee happy when I shaken my head.  
How often hast thou waited at my cup,  
Fed from my Trencher, kneeled down at the board,  
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?  
Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-fallen,  
I, and allay this thy abortive Pride:  
How in our voiding Lobby haste 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.  Whit. 
Speak Captain, shall I stab the forlorn Swain.  Lieu. 
First let my words stab him, as he hath me.  Suf. 
Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou.  Lieu. 
Convey him hence, and on our long boats side,  
Strike off his head.  Suf. 
Thou darest not for thy own.  Lieu. 
Poole, Sir Poole? Lord,  
I 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 kissed the Queen, shall sweep the ground:  
And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humfries death,  
Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain,  
Who in contempt shall hisse 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 ouergorged,  
With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart.  
By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France.  
The false revolting Normans through thee,  
Disdain to call us Lord, and Piccardie  
Hath slain their Governors, surprised our Forts,  
And sent the ragged Soldiers wounded home.  
The Princely Warwick, and the Nevil's all,  
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,  
As hating thee, and 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, Inuitis 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.  Suf. 
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 Bee-hives:  
It is impossible that I should dye  
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.  Lieu. 
Water: W. Come Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.  Suf. 
Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I fear.  Wal. 
Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee.  
What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop.  1. Gent. 
My gracious Lord entreat him, speak him fair.  Suf. 
Suffolk's Imperial tongue is stern and rough:  
Used to command, untaught to plead for favour.  
Fare 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,  
Then stand uncovered to the Vulgar Groom.  
True Nobility, is exempt from fear:  
More can I bear, than you dare execute.  Lieu. 
Hale him away, and let him talk no more:  
Come Soldiers, show what cruelty ye can.  Suf. 
That this my death may never be forgot.  
Great men oft dye by vild Bezonions.  
A Roman Sworder, and Bandetto slave  
Murdered sweet Tully. Bruim Bastard hand  
Stabbed julius Caesar. Savage Islanders  
Pompey the Great, and Suffolk dies by Pirates.  Exit Water with Suffolk. Lieu. 
And as for these whose ransom we have set,  
It is our pleasure one of them departed:  
Therefore come you with us, and let him go.  Exit Lieutenant, and the rest. Manet the first Gent. Enter Walter with the body. Wal. 
There let his head, and liveless body lie,  
Until the Queen his Mistress bury it.  Exit Walter. 1. Gent. 
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.  Enter Bevis, and john Holland. Bevis. 
Come and get thee a sword, though made of a Lath, they have been up these two days.  Hol. 
They have the more need to sleep now then.  Bevis. 
I tell thee, jacke Cade the Cloathier, means to dress the Commonwealth and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.  Hol. 
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.  Hol. 
The Nobility think scorn to go in Leather Aprons.  Bevis. 
Nay more, the King's Council are no good Workmen.  Hol. 
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.  Hol. 
I see them, I see them: There's Bests Son, the Tanner of Wingham.  Bevis. 
He shall have the skins of our enemies, to make Dog's Leather of.  Hol. 
And Dick the Butcher.  Bevis. 
Then is sin struck down like an Ox, and iniquities throat cut like a Calf.  Hol. 
And Smith the Weaver.  Beu. 
Argo, their thread of life is spun.  Hol. 
Come, come, let's fall in with them.  Drum. Enter Cade, Dick Butcher, Smith the Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers. Cade. 
We john Cade, so termed of our supposed Father.  But. 
Or rather of stealing a Cade of Herrings.  Cade. 
For our enemies shall fail before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down Kings and Princes. Command silence.  But. 
Silence.  Cade. 
My Father was a Mortimer.  But. 
He was an honest man, and a good Bricklayer.  Cade. 
My mother a Plantagenet.  Butch. 
I knew her well, she was a Midwife.  Cade. 
My wife descended of the Lacies.  But. 
She was indeed a Pedlar's daughter, & sold many Laces.  Weaver. 
But now of late, not able to travel with her furred Pack, she washes bucks here at home.  Cade. 
Therefore am I of an honourable house.  But. 
I 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.  Weaver. 
A must needs, for beggary is valiant.  Cade. 
I am able to endure much.  But. 
No question of that: for I have seen him whipped three Market days together.  Cade. 
I fear neither sword, nor fire.  Wea. 
He need not fear the sword, for his Coat is of proof.  But. 
But me thinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' th' hand for stealing of Sheep.  Cade. 
Be brave then, for your Captain is Brave, and Vows Reformation. There shall be in England, seven half penny 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.  But. 
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 scribeld over, 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 a Clerk. Weaver. 
The Clerk of Chartam: he can write and read, and cast account.  Cade. 
O monstrous.  Wea. 
We took him setting of boy's Copies.  Cade. 
Here's a Villain.  Wea. 
Has a Book in his pocket with red Letters in't  Cade. 
Nay then he is a Conjurer.  But. 
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. 
Emanuel.  But. 
They use to written 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 a 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 Inkhorn about his neck.  Exit one with the Clerk Enter Michael. Mich. 
Where's our General?  Cade. 
here I am thou particular fellow.  Mich. 
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?  Mich. 
No.  Cade. 
To equal him I will make myself a knight presently; Rise up Sir john Mortimer. Now have at him.  Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford, and his Brother, with Drum and Soldier's. Staf. 
Rebellious Hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,  
Marked for the Gallows: Lay your Weapons down,  
Home to your Cottages: forsake this Groom.  
The King is merciful, if you revolt.  Bro. 
But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood,  
If you go forward: therefore yield, or dye.  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.  Staff. 
Villain, thy Father was a Playsterer,  
And thou thyself a Sheareman, art thou not?  Cade. 
And Adam was a Gardener.  Bro. 
And what of that?  Cade. 
Marry, this Edmund Mortimer Earl of March, married the Duke of Clarence daughter, did he not?  Staf. 
I sir.  Cade. 
By her he had two children at one birth.  Bro. 
That's false.  Cade. 
I, 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.  But. 
Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he shall be King.  Wea. 
Sir, he made a Chimney in my Father's house, & the bricks are alive at this day to testify it: therefore deny it not.  Staf. 
And will you credit this base Drudges Words, that speaks he knows not what.  All. 
I marry will we: therefore get ye gone.  Bro. 
jacke Cade, the D. of York hath taught you this.  Cade. 
He lies, for I invented it myself. Go too Sirrah, tell the King from me, that for his Father's sake Henry the fift, (in whose time, boys went to Span-counter for French Crowns) I am content he shall reign, but I'll be Protector over him:  Butcher. 
And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Says head, for selling the Dukedom of Maine.  Cade 
And good reason: for thereby is England maimed 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: & more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a Traitor.  Staf. 
O gross and miserable ignorance.  Cade. 
Nay answer if you can: The Frenchmen are our enemies: go too 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.  Bro. 
Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,  
Assail them with the Army of the King.  Staf. 
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 hanged up for example at their doors:  
And you that be the King's Friends follow me.  Exit. 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 shoes,  
For they are thrifty honest men, and such  
As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.  But. 
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.  Alarms to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are slain. Enter Cade and the rest. Cade. 
Where's Dick, the Butcher of Ashford?  But. 
here sir.  Cade. 
They fell before thee like Sheep and Oxen, & thou behaued'st 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.  But. 
I desire no more.  Cade. 
And to speak truth, thou deservest no less. This Monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels, till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayor's sword born before us.  But. 
If we mean to thrive, and do good, break open the Gaoles, and let out the Prisoners.  Cade. 
Fear not that I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards London.  Exeunt. Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queen with Suffolk's head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say. Queen. 
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?  Buc. 
What answer makes your Grace to the Rebel's Supplication?  King. 
I'll send some holy Bishop to entreat:  
For God forbidden, so many simple souls  
Should perish by the Sword. And I myself,  
Rather than bloody War shall cut them short,  
Will parley with jacke Cade their General.  
But stay, I'll read it over once again.  Qu. 
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. 
Lord Say, jacke Cade hath sworn to huae thy head.  Say. 
I, but I hope your Highness shall have his.  King. 
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 mourned so much for me.  Qu. 
No my Love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.  Enter a Messenger. King. 
How now? What news? Why comest thou in such haste?  Mes. 
The Rebels are in Southwark: Fly my Lord:  
jacke 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 intent their death.  Kin. 
Oh graceless men: they know not what they do.  Buck. 
My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,  
Until a power be raised to put them down.  Qu. 
Ah were the Duke of Suffolk now alive,  
These Kentish Rebels would be soon appeased.  King. 
Lord Say, the Traitors hateth 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. Mess. 
jacke 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.  Buc. 
Then linger not my Lord, away, take horse.  King. 
Come Margaret, God our hope will succour us.  Qu. 
My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.  King. 
Farewell my Lord, trust not the Kentish Rebels  Buc. 
Trust no body for fear you betrayed.  Say. 
The trust I have, is in mine innocence,  
And therefore am I bold and resolute.  Exeunt. Enter Lord Scales upon the Tower walking. Then enters two or three Citizens below. Scales. 
How now? Is jacke Cade slain?  1. Cit 
No my Lord, nor likely to be slain:  
For they have won the Bridge,  
Killing all those that withstand them:  
The L. Maior 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 assayed 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 Enter jacke 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 Cities 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 then Lord Mortimer.  Enter a Soldier running. Soul. 
jacke Cade, jacke Cade.  Cade. 
Knock him down there.  They kill him. But. 
If this Fellow be wise, he'll never call ye jacke 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 omnes. Alarms. Matthew Goffe. is slain, and all the rest. Then enter jake Cade, with his Company. Cade. 
So sirs: now go some and pull down the Savoy:  
Others to ' th' Inns of Court, down with them all.  Hut. 
I have a suit unto your Lordship.  Cade. 
Be it a Lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.  But. 
Only that the Laws of England may come out of your mouth.  john. 
Mass 'twill be sore Law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a Spear, and 'tis not whole yet.  Smith. 
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.  john. 
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. Mes. 
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 Fifteen, and one shilling to the pound, the last Subsidy.  Enter George, with the Lord Say. Cade. 
Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times: Ah thou Say, thou Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now art thou within pointblank of our jurisdiction Regal. What canst thou answer to my Majesty, for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dolphin 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 Papermill. 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 ought'st 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 to, as myself for example, that am a butcher.  Say. 
You men of Kent.  Dic. 
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 wher'e you will:  
Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ,  
Is termed the ciuel'st place of all 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 Main, 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 ought exacted at your hands?  
Kent to maintain, the King, the Realm and you,  
Large gifts have I bestowed on learned Clerks,  
Because my Book preferred me to the King.  
And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God,  
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we fly to heaven.  
Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits,  
You cannot but forbear to murder me:  
This Tongue hath parleyed 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.  Geo. 
O monstrous Coward! What, to come behind Folkes?  Say. 
These cheeks are pale for watching for your good  Cade. 
Give him a box o' th' 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 Candle then, & 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 steddier 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 filled 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. 
I feel remorse in myself with his words: but I'll bridle it: he shall dye, and it be but for pleading so well for his life. Away with him, he has a Familiar under his Tongue, he speaks not a 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 prair's,  
God should be so obdurate as yourselves:  
How would it far with your departed souls,  
And therefore yet relent, and save my life.  Cade. 
Away with him, and do as I command ye: 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.  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, in steed of Maces,  
Will we ride through the streets, & at every Corner  
Have them kiss. Away.  Exit Alarm, and Retreat. Enter again Cade, and all his rabblement. Cade. 
up Fish-street, down Saint Magnes 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 old Clifford. Buc. 
I 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.  Clif. 
What say ye Countrymen, will ye relent  
And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis offered you,  
Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths.  
Who love's 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 fift, 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-heart 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 burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your Wives and Daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so Gods Curse light upon you all.  All. 
we'll follow Cade,  
we'll follow Cade.  Clif 
Is Cade the son of Henry the fift,  
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 too:  
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 ore-seas, and vanquish you?  
Me thinks 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 too & fro, as this multitude? The name of Henry the fift, 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 midst 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 Buck. 
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. 
Fellow me soldiers, we'll device a mean,  
To reconcile you all unto the King.  Exeunt omnes. Sound Trumpet's. Enter King, Queen, and Somerset on the Terrace. King. 
Was ever King that joyed 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 longed to be a King,  
As I do long and wish to be a Subject.  Enter Buckingham and Clifford. Buc. 
Health and glad tidings to your Majesty.  Kin. 
Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade surprised?  
Or is he but retired to make him strong?  Enter Multitudes with Halters about their Necks. Clif. 
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. 
Then heaven set open thy everlasting gates,  
To entertain my vows of thankes and praise.  
Soldiers, this day have you redeemed your lives,  
And showed how well you love your Prince & Country:  
Continue still in this so good a mind,  
And Henry though he be infortunate,  
Assure yourselves will never be unkind:  
And so with thankes, 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. Mes. 
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 Gallow-glasses 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 a Traitor.  King. 
Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distressed,  
Like to a Ship, that having scaped a Tempest,  
Is strait way calm, 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 will commit thee thither,  
Until his Army be dismissed from him.  Somerset. 
My Lord,  
I'll yield myself to prison willingly,  
Or unto death, to do my Country good.  King. 
In any case, be not to rough in terms,  
For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard Language.  Buc. 
I will my Lord, and doubt not so to deal,  
As all things shall redound unto your good.  King. 
Come wife, let's in, and learn to govern better,  
For yet may England curse my wretched reign.  Flourish. Exeunt. Enter Cade. Cade. 
Fie on Ambitions: 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 Salad another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather: and I think this word Salad was borne to do me good: for many a time but for a Salad, my brainpan had been cleft with a brown Bill; and many a time when I have been dry, & bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart pot to drink in: and now the word Salad 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 warning,  
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. A Villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a 1000 Crowns of the King by 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, whatsoever 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 inspite of me the Owner,  
But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?  Cade. 
Brave thee? I by the best blood that ever was broached, and beard thee to. 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 door nail, 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 famished man.  
Oppose thy steadfast gazing eyes to mine,  
See if thou canst outface me with thy looks:  
Set limb to limb, and thou art fare 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 digged 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 jove on my knees thou mayst be turned to Hobnails.  here they Fight. 
O I am slain, Famine and no other hath slain me, let ten thousand divelles' come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Whither 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. Id. 
How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge;  
Die damned Wretch, the curse of her that bore 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. Enter York, and his Army of Irish, with Drum and Colours. Yor. 
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 Maiestas! who would not buy thee dear?  
Let them obey, that knows not how to Rule.  
This hand was made to handle nought 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 Fleure-de-Luce of France.  Enter Buckingham. 
Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me?  
The king hath sent him sure: I must dissemble.  Buc. 
York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.  Yor. 
Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.  
Art thou a Messenger, or come of pleasure.  Buc. 
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?  Yor. 
Scarce can I speak, my Choler is so great.  
Oh I could hue up Rocks, and fight with Flint,  
I am so angry at these abject terms.  
And now like Aiax Telamonius,  
On Sheep or Oxen could I spend my fury.  
I am fare better borne 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.  Buc. 
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?  Buck. 
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 S. 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.  Buc. 
York, I commend this kind submission,  
We twain will go into his Highness Tent.  Enter King and Attendants. King. 
Buckingham, doth York intent 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.  K. 
Then what intends these Forces thou dost bring?  Yor. 
To heave the Traitor Somerset from hence,  
And fight against that monstrous Rebel Cade,  
Who since I heard to be discomfited.  Enter Iden with Cades 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. 
The head of Cade? Great God, how just art thou?  
Oh 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. 
How art thou called? And what is thy degree?  Iden. 
Alexander Iden, that's my name,  
A poor Esquire of Kent, that love's his King.  Buc. 
So please it you my Lord, 'twere not amiss  
He were created Knight for his good service.  King. 
Iden, kneel down, 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.  Enter Queen and Somerset. K. 
See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th' Queen,  
Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.  Qu. 
For thousand York's he shall not hide his head,  
But boldly stand, and front him to his face.  Yor. 
How now? is Summersault at liberty?  
Then York unloose thy long imprisoned 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 dar'st 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.  Som. 
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 thee,  
If they can brook I bow a knee to man:  
Sirrah, call in my son to be my bale:  
I know ere they will have me go to Ward,  
They'll pawn their swords of my enfranchisement.  Qu. 
Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain,  
To say, if that the Bastard boys of York  
Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father.  York. 
O blood-bespotted 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. Qu. 
And here comes Clifford to deny their bail.  Clif. 
Health, and all happiness to my Lord the King.  Yor. 
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.  Clif. 
This is my King York, I do not mistake,  
But thou mistakes me much to think I do,  
To Bedlam with him, is the man grown mad.  King. 
I Clifford, a Bedlam and ambitious humour  
Makes him oppose himself against his King.  Clif. 
He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,  
And chop away that factious pate of his.  Qu. 
He is atrested, but will not obey:  
His sons (he says) shall give their words for him.  Yor. 
Will you not Sons?  Edw. 
I Noble Father, if our words will serve.  Rich. 
And if words will not, than our Weapons shall.  Clif. 
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 Earls of Warwick, and Salisbury. Clif. 
Are these thy Bears? we'll bate thy Bears to death,  
And manacle the Berard in their Chains,  
If thou darest bring them to the baiting place.  Rich. 
Oft have I seen a hot ore-weening Cur,  
Run back and bite, because he was withheld,  
Who being suffered with the Bears fell paw,  
Hath clapped his tail, between his legs and cried,  
And such a piece of service will you do,  
If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick.  Clif. 
Hence heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,  
As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape.  Yor. 
Nay we shall heat you thoroughly anon.  Clif. 
Take heed left by your heat you burn yourselves:  King. 
Why Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?  
Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair,  
Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son,  
What wilt thou on thy deathbed play the Ruffian?  
And seek for sorrow with thy Spectacles?  
Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty?  
If it be banished 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 much age.  Sal. 
My Lord, I have considered 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. 
Hast thou not sworn Allegiance unto me?  Sal. 
I have.  Ki. 
Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?  Sal. 
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 customed right,  
And have no other reason for this wrong,  
But that he was bound by a solemn Oath?  Qu. 
A subtle Traitor needs no Sophister.  King. 
Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.  York. 
Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,  
I am resolved for death and dignity.  Old Clif. 
The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true  War. 
You were best to go to bed, and dream again,  
To keep thee from the Tempest of the field.  Old Clif. 
I am resolved to bear a greater storm,  
Then any thou canst conjure up to day:  
And that I'll write upon thy Burgonet,  
Might I but know thee by thy housed Badge.  War. 
Now by my Father's badge, old Nevil's Crest,  
The rampant Bear chained to the ragged staff,  
This day I'll wear aloft my Burgonet,  
As on a Mountain top, the Cedar shows,  
That keeps his leaves inspite of any storm,  
Even io affright thee with the view thereof.  Old Clif. 
And from thy Burgonet I'll rend thy Bear,  
And tread it under foot with all contempt,  
Despite the Bearard, that protects the Bear.  Yo. Clif. 
And so to Arms victorious Father,  
To quell the Rebels, and their Complices.  Rich. 
Fie, Charity for shame, speak not in spite,  
For you shall sup with jesus Christ to night.  Yo Clif. 
Fowl stygmaticke that's more than thou canst tell.  Ric. 
If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.  Exeunt Enter Warwick. War. 
Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls:  
And if thou dost not hide thee from the Bear,  
Now when the angry Trumpet sounds alarm,  
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. War. 
How now my Noble Lord? What all afoot.  Yor. 
The deadly handed Clifford slew my Steed:  
But match to match I have encountered him,  
And made a prey for Carrion Kites and Crows  
Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.  Enter Clifford. War. 
Of one or both of us the time is come.  Yor. 
Hold Warwick: seek thee out some other chase  
For I myself must hunt this Deer to death.  War. 
Then nobly York, 'tis for a Crown thou fightest:  
As I intent Clifford to thrive to day,  
It grieves my soul to leave there vnassailed.  Exit War. Clif. 
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.  Clif. 
Nor should thy prowess want praise & 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.  Clif. 
My soul and body on the action both.  Yor. 
A dreadful lay, address thee instantly.  Clif. 
La fia Corrone les eumenes'.  Yor. 
Thus War hath given thee peace, for thou art still,  
Peace with his soul, heaven if it be thy will.  Enter young Clifford. Clif. 
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 dedicated to War,  
Hath no self-love: nor he that love's himself,  
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance  
The name of Valour. 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. Was't thou ordained (dear Father)  
To lose thy youth in peace, and to atcheeve  
The Silver Livery of advised Age,  
And in thy Reverence, and thy Chaire-dayes, thus  
To die in Ruffian battle? Even at this sight,  
My heart is turned 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 Absirtis did.  
In cruelty, will I seek out my Fame.  
Come thou new ruin of old Clifford's house:  
As did Aeneas old Anchyses bear,  
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders:  
But then, Aeneas bore a living load;  
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.  Enter Richard, and Summersault to fight. Rich. 
So lie thou there:  
For underneath an Alehouse paltry sign,  
The Castle in S. Albon, Somerset  
Hath made the Wizard famous in his death:  
Sword, hold thy temper; Heart, be wrathful still:  
Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.  Fight. Excursions. Enter King, Queen, and others. Qu. 
Away my Lord, you are slow, for shame away.  King. 
Can we outrun the Heavens? Good Margaret stay.  Qu. 
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.  Alarm a fare 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 stopped.  Enter Clifford. Clif. 
But that my hearts on future mischief set,  
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly:  
But fly you must: Vncureable 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 Alarm. Retreat. Enter York, Richard, Warwick, and Soldiers, with Drum & 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.  Rich. 
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. Sal. 
Now by my Sword, well hast thou fought to day:  
By ' th' 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?  War. 
After them: nay before them if we can:  
Now by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day.  
Saint Albon's battle won by famous York,  
Shall be eternised in all Age to come.  
Sound Drum and Trumpets, and to London all,  
And more such days as these, to us befall.  Exeunt.   
FINIS.   

The third Part of Henry the sixth, with the death of the Duke of YORK.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Alarm. Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolk, Montague, Warwick, and Soldiers. Warwick. 
I Wonder how the King escaped our hands?  Pl. 
While we pursued the Horsemen of the North,  
He slyly stole away, and left his men:  
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,  
Whose Warlike ears could never brook retreat,  
Cheered 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.  Edw. 
Lord Stafford's Father, Duke of Buckingham,  
Is either slain or wounded dangerous.  
I cloven his Beaver with a downright blow:  
That this is true (Father) behold his blood.  Mount. 
And Brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshires' blood,  
Whom I encountered as the Battles joined.  Rich. 
Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.  Plan. 
Richard hath best deserved of all my sons:  
But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?  Nor. 
Such hope have all the line of john of Gaunt.  Rich. 
Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head.  Warw. 
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.  Plant. 
Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will,  
For hither we have broken in by force.  Norf. 
we'll all assist you: he that flies, shall dye:  Plant. 
Thanks gentle Norfolk, stay by me my Lords,  
And Soldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.  They go up. Warw. 
And when the King comes, offer him no violence,  
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.  Plant. 
The Queen this day here holds her Parliament,  
But little thinks we shall be of her counsel,  
By words or blows here let us win our right.  Rich. 
Armed as we are, let's stay within this House.  Warw. 
The bloody Parliament shall this be called,  
Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be King,  
And bashful Henry deposed, whose Cowardice  
Hath made us bywords to our enemies.  Plant. 
Then leave me not, my Lords be resolute,  
I mean to take possession of my Right.  Warw. 
Neither the King, nor he that love's 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, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmoreland, Exeter, and the rest. Henry. 
My Lords, look where the sturdy Rebel sits,  
Even in the Chair of State: belike he means,  
Backed 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, & you both have vowed revenge  
On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.  Northumb. 
If I be not, Heavens be revenged on me.  Clifford. 
The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourn in Steel.  Westm. 
What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down,  
My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it.  Henry. 
Be patiented, gentle Earl of Westmoreland.  Clifford. 
Patience is for Poultroones, 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.  North 
Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so.  Henry. 
Ah, know you not the City favours them,  
And they have troops of Soldiers at their beck?  Westm. 
But when the Duke is slain, they'll quickly fly.  Henry. 
Fare 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.  Exet. 
For shame come down, he made thee Duke of York.  York. 
It was my Inheritance, as the Earldom was.  Exet. 
Thy Father was a Traitor to the Crown.  Warw. 
Exeter thou art a Traitor to the Crown,  
In following this usurping Henry.  Clifford. 
Whom should he follow, but his natural King?  Warw. 
True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of York.  Henry. 
And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne?  York. 
It must and shall be so, content thyself.  Warw. 
Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King.  Westm. 
He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster,  
And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.  Warw. 
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  
Marched through the City to the Palace Gates.  Northumb. 
Yes Warwick, I remember it to my grief,  
And by his Soul, thou and thy House shall rue it.  Westm. 
Plantagenet, of thee and these thy Sons,  
Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, I'll have more lives  
Than drops of blood were in my Father's Veins.  Cliff. 
Urge it no more, left that in stead of words,  
I send thee, Warwick, such a Messenger,  
As shall revenge his death, before I stir.  Warw. 
Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless Threats.  Plant. 
Will you we show our Title to the Crown?  
If not, our Swords shall plead it in the field.  Henry. 
What Title hast thou Traitor to the Crown?  
My Father was as thou art, Duke of York,  
Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earl of March.  
I am the Son of Henry the Fift,  
Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoop,  
And seized upon their Towns and Provinces.  Warw. 
Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.  Henry. 
The Lord Protector lost it, and not I:  
When I was crowned, I was but nine months old.  Rich. 
You are old enough now,  
And yet me thinks you lose:  
Father tear the Crown from the Usurpers Head.  Edward. 
Sweet Father do so, set it on your Head.  Mount. 
Good Brother,  
As thou lov'st and honourest Arms,  
Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus.  Richard. 
Sound Drums and Trumpets, and the King will fly.  Plant. 
Son's peace.  Henry. 
Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak.  Warw. 
Plantagenet shall speak first: Hear him Lords,  
And be you silent and attentive too,  
For he that interrupts him, shall not live.  Hen. 
Thinkest thou, that I will leave my Kingly Throne,  
Wherein my Grandsire and my Father sat?  
No: first shall War unpeople this my Realm;  
I, and their Colours often borne in France,  
And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow,  
Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords?  
My Title's good, and better fare than his.  Warw. 
Prove it Henry, and thou shalt be King.  Hen. 
Henry the Fourth by Conquest got the Crown.  Plant. 
'Twas by Rebellion against his King.  Henry. 
I know not what to say, my Titles weak:  
Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heir?  Plant. 
What then?  Henry. 
And if he may, then am I lawful King:  
For Richard, in the view of many Lords,  
Resigned the Crown to Henry the Fourth,  
Whose Heir my Father was, and I am his.  Plant. 
He rose against him, being his Sovereign,  
And made him to resign his Crown perforce.  Warw. 
Suppose, my Lords, he did it unconstrained,  
Think you 'twere prejudicial to his Crown?  Exet. 
No: for he could not so resign his Crown,  
But that the next Heir should succeed and reign.  Henry. 
Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?  Exet. 
His is the right, and therefore pardon me.  Plant. 
Why whisper you, my Lords, and answer not?  Exet. 
My Conscience tells me he is lawful King.  Henry. 
All will revolt from me, and turn to him.  Northumb. 
Plantagenet, for all the Claim thou layest,  
Think not, that Henry shall be so deposed.  Warw. 
Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.  Northumb. 
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.  Henry. 
Oh Clifford, how thy words revive my heart.  Plant. 
Henry of Lancaster, resign thy Crown:  
What mutter you, or what conspire you Lords?  Warw. 
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,  
Writ up his Title with usurping blood.  He stamps with his foot, and the Soldiers show themselves. Henry. 
My Lord of Warwick, hear but one word,  
Let me for this my life time reign as King.  Plant. 
Confirm the Crown to me and to mine Heirs,  
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest.  Henry. 
I am content: Richard Plantagenet  
Enjoy the Kingdom after my decease.  Clifford. 
What wrong is this unto the Prince, your Son?  Warw. 
What good is this to England, and himself?  Westm. 
Base, fearful, and despairing Henry.  Clifford. 
How hast thou injured both thyself and us?  Westm. 
I cannot stay to hear these Articles.  Northumb. 
Nor I.  Clifford. 
Come Cousin, let us tell the Queen these News.  Westm. 
Farewell faint-hearted and degenerate King,  
In whose cold blood no spark of Honour bides.  Northumb. 
Be thou a prey unto the House of York,  
And dye in Bands, for this unmanly deed.  Cliff. 
In dreadful War may'st thou be overcome,  
Or live in peace abandoned and despised.  Warw. 
Turn this way Henry, and regard them not.  Exeter. 
They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield.  Henry. 
Ah Exeter.  Warw. 
Why should you sigh, my Lord?  Henry. 
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.  Plant. 
This Oath I willingly take, and will perform.  Warw. 
Long live King Henry: Plantagenet embrace him.  Henry. 
And long live thou, and these thy forward Sons.  Plant. 
Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.  Exet. 
Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes.  Senet. Here they come down. Plant. 
Farewell my gracious Lord, I'll to my Castle.  Warw. 
And I'll keep London with my Soldiers.  Norf. 
And I to Norfolk with my followers.  Mount. 
And I unto the Sea, from whence I came.  Henry. 
And I with grief and sorrow to the Court.  Enter the Queen. Exeter. 
here comes the Queen,  
Whose Looks be wray her anger:  
I'll steal away.  Henry. 
Exeter so will I.  Queen. 
Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee.  Henry. 
Be patiented gentle Queen, and I will stay.  Queen. 
Who can be patiented 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 nourished him, as I did with my blood;  
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heartblood there,  
Rather than have made that savage Duke thine Heir,  
And disinherited thine only Son.  Prince. 
Father, you cannot disinherit me:  
If you be King, why should not I succeed?  Henry. 
Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Son,  
The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.  Quee. 
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 fare 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 tossed me on their Pikes,  
Before I would have granted to that Act.  
But thou preferrest thy Life, before thine Honor.  
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself,  
Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed,  
Until that Act of Parliament be repealed,  
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.  Henry. 
Stay gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.  Queen. 
Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone.  Henry. 
Gentle Son Edward, thou wilt stay me?  Queen. 
I, to be murdered by his Enemies.  Prince. 
When I return with victory to the field,  
I'll see your Grace: till then, I'll follow her.  Queen. 
Come Son away, we may not linger thus.  Henry. 
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,  
Tyre 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.  Exet. 
And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.  Exit. Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Montague. Richard. 
Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.  Edward. 
No, I can better play the Orator.  Mount. 
But I have reasons strong and forceable.  Enter the Duke of 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?  Rich. 
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 forbidden 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 taken  
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 fain of Bliss and joy.  
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest,  
Until the White Rose that I wear, be died  
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.  York. 
Richard enough: I will be King, or dye.  
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 employed, 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 Gabriel. 
But stay, what News? Why com'st thou in such post?  Gabriel. 
The Queen,  
With all the Northern Earls and Lords,  
Intent here to besiege you in your Castle.  
She is hard by, with twenty thousand men:  
And therefore fortify your Hold, my Lord.  York. 
I, with my Sword.  
What? thinkest 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.  Mount. 
Brother, I go: I'll win them, fear it not.  
And thus most humbly I do take my leave.  Exit Montague. Enter Mortimer, and his Brother. York. 
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. 
She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field.  York. 
What, with five thousand men?  Richard. 
I, 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 strait.  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?  Alarm. Exit. Enter Rutland, and his Tutor. Rutland. 
Ah, whither shall I fly, to scape their hands?  
Ah Tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.  Enter Clifford. Clifford. 
Chaplain away, thy Priesthood saves thy life.  
As for the Brat of this accursed Duke,  
Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye.  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. 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 be 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 speakest, poor Boy:  
My Father's blood hath stopped 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 I thy Brethren here, their lives and thine  
Were not revenge sufficient for me:  
No, if I digged up thy forefather's 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—  Rutland. 
Oh 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 borne.  
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 dye, for now thou hast no cause.  Clifford. 
No cause? thy Father slew my Father: therefore dye.  Rutland. 
Dij faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae.  Clifford. 
Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet:  
And this thy Son's blood cleaving to my Blade,  
Shall rust upon my Weapon, till thy blood  
Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.  Exit. Alarm. Enter Richard, Duke of York. York. 
The Army of the Queen hath got the field:  
My uncle's 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 demeaned themselves  
Like men borne 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 encountered him:  
And when the hardyest 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 Alarm 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 numbered, that makes up my Life,  
Here must I stay, and here my Life must end.  Enter the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland, the young Prince, and Soldiers. 
Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,  
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:  
I am your Butt, and I abide your Shot.  Northumb. 
Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.  Clifford. 
I, to such mercy, as his ruthless Arm  
With downright payment, showed unto my Father.  
Now Phaeton 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 what ere you can afflict me with.  
Why come you not? what, multitudes, and fear?  Cliff. 
So Cowards fight, when they can fly no further,  
So Doves do peck the Falcon's piercing Talons,  
So desperate Thiefs, all hopeless of their Lives,  
Breathe out Inuectives 'gainst the Officers.  York. 
Oh Clifford, but bethink thee once again,  
And in thy thought o'errun my former time:  
And if thou 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 buckler with thee blows twice two for one.  Queen. 
Hold valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes  
I would prolong a while the Traitor's Life:  
Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou Northumberland.  Northumb. 
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.  Clifford. 
I, I, so strives the Woodcock with the Gynne.  Northumb. 
So doth the Cony struggle in the Net.  York. 
So triumph Thiefs upon their conquered Booty,  
So True men yield with Robbers, so o're-matcht.  Northumb. 
What would your Grace have done unto him now?  Queen. 
Brave Warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,  
Come make him stand upon this Molehill here,  
That reached 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 reuelled 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 stained 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 parched thine entrayles,  
That not a Tear can fall, for Rutland's death?  
Why art thou patiented, 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 feed, 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.  
I marry Sir, now looks he like a King:  
I, 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 crowned so soon, and broke his solemn Oath?  
As I bethink me, you should not be King,  
Till our King Henry had shaken 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?  
Oh 'tis a fault too too unpardonable.  
Off with the Crowne; 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. 
Nay stay, let's hear the Orisons he makes.  York. 
She-wolf of France,  
But worse than Wolves of France,  
Whose Tongue more poisons then 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 cam'st, 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 wondered 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.  
Oh Tigers Heart, wrapped 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.  
Bidst 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 gins.  
These Tears are my sweet Rutland's Obsequies,  
And every drop cries vengeance for his death,  
'Gainst thee fell Clifford, and thee false French-woman.  Northumb. 
Beshrew me, but his passions moves me so,  
That hardly can I check my eyes from Tears.  York. 
That Face of his,  
The hungry Cannibals would not have touched,  
Would not have stained with blood:  
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,  
Oh, ten times more than Tigers of Hyrcania.  
See, ruthless Queen, a hapless Father's Tears:  
This Cloth thou dipd'st 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.  
Hardhearted Clifford, take me from the World,  
My Soul to Heaven, my Blood upon your Heads.  Northumb. 
Had he been slaughterman to all my Kin,  
I should not for my Life but weep with him,  
To see how inly Sorrow gripes his Soul.  Queen. 
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.  Queen. 
And here's to right our gentle-hearted King.  York. 
Open thy Gate of Mercy, gracious God,  
My Soul flies through these wounds, to seek out thee.  Queen. 
Off with his Head, and set it on York Gates,  
So York may overlook the Town of York.  Flourish. Exit. 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 Cliffords and Northumberlands 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▪ me thinks 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 watched 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 encompassed round with Dogs:  
Who having pinched 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,  
Trimmed like a Younker, prancing to his Love?  Ed. 
Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three Suns?  Rich. 
Three glorious Suns, each one a perfect Sun,  
Not separated with the racking Clouds,  
But severed in a pale cleare-shining Sky.  
See, see, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,  
As if they vowed 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 cities us (Brother) to the field,  
That we, the Sons of brave Plantagenet,  
Each one already blazing by our medes,  
Should notwithstanding join our Lights together,  
And overshine the Earth, as this the World.  
What ere 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 one blowing. 
But what art thou, whose heavy Looks foretell  
Some dreadful story hanging on thy Tongue?  Mess. 
Ah, one that was a woeful looker on,  
When as the Noble Duke of York was slain,  
Your Princely Father, and my loving Lord.  Edward. 
Oh speak no more, for I have heard too much.  Richard. 
Say how he died, for I will hear it all.  Mess. 
Environed he was with many foes,  
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy  
Against the Greeks, that would have entered Troy.  
But Hercules himself must yield to odds:  
And many strokes, though with a little Axe,  
Hewes down and fells the hardest-tymbered Oak.  
By many hands your Father was subdued,  
But only slaughtered by the ireful Arm  
Of un-relenting Clifford, and the Queen:  
Who crowned the gracious Duke in high despite,  
Laughed 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 ere I viewed.  Edward. 
Sweet Duke of York, our Prop to lean upon,  
Now thou art gone▪ we have no Staff, no Stay.  
Oh Clifford, boisterous Clifford thou hast slain  
The flower of Europe, for his Chivalry,  
And treacherously hast thou vanquished him,  
For hand to hand he would have vanquished thee.  
Now my Souls 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, oh never shall I see more joy.  Rich. 
I cannot weep: for all my body's moisture  
Scarce serves to quench my Furnace-burning hart:  
Nor can my tongue unloade my hearts great burden,  
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 dye renowned by attempting it.  Ed. 
His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee:  
His Dukedom, and his Chair with me is left.  Rich. 
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 were't not his.  March. Enter Warwick, marquis Montacute, and their Army. Warwick. 
How now fair Lords? What fair? What news abroad?  Rich. 
Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount  
Our baleful news, and at each words 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.  Edw. 
O Warwick, Warwick, that Plantagenet  
Which held thee dearly, as his Souls Redemption,  
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.  War. 
Ten days ago, I drowned these news in tears,  
And now to add more measure to your woes,  
I come to tell you things sith then befallen.  
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,  
Mustered my Soldiers, gathered flocks of Friends,  
Marched toward S. Albon, 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 S. Albon's met,  
Our Battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought:  
But whether 'twas the coldness of the King,  
Who looked full gently on his warlike Queen,  
That robbed 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-Owles lazy flight,  
Or like a lazy Thresher with a Flail,  
Fell gently down, as if they struck their Friends.  
I cheered 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.  Ed. 
Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick?  
And when came George from Burgundy to England?  War. 
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.  Rich. 
'Twas odds belike, when valiant Warwick fled;  
Oft have I heard his praises in Pursuit,  
But ne'er till now, his Scandal of Retire.  War. 
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.  Rich. 
I know it well Lord Warwick, blame me not,  
'Tis love I bear thy glories make 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,  
Numb'ring our Aue-maries' with our Beads?  
Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes  
Tell our Devotion with revengeful Arms?  
If for the last, say I, and to it Lords.  War. 
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 moe proud Birds,  
Have wrought the easie-melting King, like Wax.  
He swore consent to your Succession,  
His Oath enroled 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,  
And once again, bestride our foaming Steeds,  
And once again cry Charge upon our Foes,  
But never once again turn back and fly.  Rich. 
I, now me thinks I hear great Warwick speak;  
ne'er may he live to see a Sunshine day,  
That cries Retire, if Warwick bid him stay.  Ed. 
Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean,  
And when thou failest (as God forbidden the hour)  
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend.  War. 
No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York:  
The next degree, is England's Royal Throne:  
For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed  
In every Burrow 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.  Rich. 
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.  Ed. 
Then strike up Drums, God and S. George for us.  Enter a Messenger. War. 
How now? what news?  Mes. 
The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,  
The Queen is coming with a puissant Host,  
And craves your company, for speedy counsel.  War. 
Why then it sorts, brave Warriors, let's away.  Exeunt Omnes. Flourish. Enter the King, the Queen, Clifford, Northumand Young Prince, with Drum and Trumpets. Qu. 
Welcome my Lord, to this brave town of York,  
Yonder's the head of that Arch-enemy,  
That sought to be encompassed with your Crown.  
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my Lord.  K. 
I, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wrack,  
To see this sight, it irks my very soul:  
Withhold revenge (dear God) 'tis not my fault,  
Nor wittingly have I infringed my Vow.  Clif. 
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 escapes the lurking Serpents 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, did 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, blessed 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 climbed unto their nest,  
Offering 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 Grandsire got,  
My careless Father fond 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. 
Full well hath Clifford played 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,  
Then in possession any jot of pleasure.  
Ah Cousin York, would thy best Friends did know,  
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.  Qu. 
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. 
Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight,  
And learn this Lesson; Draw thy Sword in right.  Prin. 
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.  Clif. 
Why that is spoken like a toward Prince.  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
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,  
Darraigne your battle, for they are at hand.  Clif. 
I would your Highness would departed the field,  
The Queen hath best success when you are absent.  Qu. 
I good my Lord, and leave us to our Fortune.  King. 
Why, that's my fortune too, therefore I'll stay.  North. 
Be it with resolution then to fight.  Prin. 
My Royal Father, cheer these Noble Lords,  
And hearten those that fight in your defence:  
Unsheathe your Sword, good Father: Cry S. George.  March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Clarence, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. Edw. 
Now perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace?  
And set thy Diadem upon my head?  
Or bide the mortal Fortune of the field.  Qu. 
Go rate thy Minions, proud insulting Boy,  
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,  
Before thy Sovereign, and thy lawful King?  Ed. 
I am his King, and he should bow his knee:  
I was adopted Heir by his consent.  Cla. 
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.  Clif. 
And reason too,  
Who should succeed the Father, but the Son.  Rich. 
Are you there Butcher? O, I cannot speak.  Clif. 
I Crooke-back, here I stand to answer thee,  
Or any he, the proudest of thy sort.  Rich. 
'Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?  Clif. 
I, and old York, and yet not satisfied.  Rich. 
For God's sake Lords give signal to the fight.  War. 
What sayest thou Henry,  
Wilt thou yield the Crown?  Qu. 
Why how now long-tongued Warwick, dare you speak?  
When you and I, met at S. Albon's last,  
Your legs did better service than your hands.  War. 
Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine:  Clif. 
You said so much before, and yet you fled.  War. 
'Twas not your valour Clifford driven me thence.  Nor. 
No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.  Rich. 
Northumberland, I hold thee reverently,  
Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain  
The execution of my big-swollen heart  
Upon that Clifford, that cruel Child-killer.  Clif. 
I slew thy Father, callest thou him a Child?  Rich. 
I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward,  
As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland,  
But ere Sunset, I'll make thee curse the deed.  King. 
Have done with words (my Lords) and hear me speak.  Qu. 
Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.  King. 
I prithee give no limits to my Tongue,  
I am a King, and privileged to speak.  Clif. 
My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,  
Cannot be cured by Words, therefore be still.  Rich. 
Then Executioner unsheathe thy sword:  
By him that made us all, I am resolved,  
That Clifford's Manhood, lies upon his tongue.  Ed. 
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-yeeld the Crown.  War. 
If thou deny, their Blood upon thy head,  
For York in justice put's his Armour on.  Pr. Ed. 
If that be right, which Warwick says is right,  
There is no wrong, but every thing is right.  War. 
Who ever got thee, there thy Mother stands,  
For well I wot, thou hast thy Mother's tongue.  Qu. 
But thou art neither like thy Sire nor Dam,  
But like a foul misshapen Stygmaticke,  
Marked by the Destinies to be avoided,  
As venom Toads, or Lizards dreadful stings.  Rich. 
Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,  
Whose Father bears the Title of a King,  
(As if a Channel should be called the Sea)  
Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,  
To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart.  Ed. 
A wisp of straw were worth a thousand Crowns,  
To make this shameless Callet know herself:  
Helen of Greece was fairer fare than thou,  
Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;  
And ne'er was Agamemnon's Brother wronged  
By that false Woman, as this King by thee.  
His Father revelled in the heart of France,  
And tamed the King, and made the Dolphin stoop:  
And had he matched 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 brewed a shower for him,  
That washed his Father's fortunes forth of France,  
And heaped sedition on his Crown at home:  
For what hath broached this tumult but thy Pride?  
Hadst thou been meek, our Title still had slept,  
And we in pity of the Gentle King,  
Had slipped our Claim, until another Age.  Cla. 
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 hewed thee down,  
Or bathed thy growing, with our heated bloods.  Edw. 
And in this resolution, I defy thee,  
Not willing any longer Conference,  
Since thou denied'st the gentle King to speak.  
Sound Trumpet's, let our bloody Colours wave,  
And either Victory, or else a Grave.  Qu. 
Stay Edward.  Ed. 
No wrangling Woman, we'll no longer stay,  
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.  Exeunt omnes. Alarm. Excursions. Enter Warwick. War. 
Fore-spent with Toil, as Runners with a Race,  
I lay me down a little while to breath:  
For strokes received, and many blows repaid,  
Have robbed my strong knit sinews of their strength,  
And spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.  Enter Edward running. Ed. 
Smile gentle heaven, or strike ungentle death,  
For this world frowns, and Edward's Sun is clouded.  War. 
How now my Lord, what hap? what hope of good?  Enter Clarence. Cla. 
Out hap is loss, our hope but sad despair,  
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us.  
What counsel give you? whether shall we fly?  Ed. 
Bootless is flight, they follow us with Wings,  
And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.  Enter Richard. Rich. 
Ah Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?  
Thy Brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,  
Broached with the Steely point of Clifford's Lance:  
And in the very pangs of death, he cried,  
Like to a dismal Clangor heard from fare,  
Warwick, revenge; Brother, revenge my death.  
So underneath the belly of their Steeds,  
That stained their Fetlocks in his smoking blood,  
The Noble Gentleman gave up the ghost.  War. 
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 played 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.  Ed. 
Oh 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 thy will it stands)  
That to my Foes this body must be prey,  
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may open,  
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul.  
Now Lords, take leave until we meet again,  
Where ere it be, in heaven, or in earth.  Rich. 
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 Springtime so.  War. 
Away, away:  
Once more sweet Lords farewell.  Cla. 
Yet let us altogether 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:  
Foreslow no longer, make we hence amain.  Exeunt Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford. Rich. 
Now Clifford, I have singled thee alone,  
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,  
And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge,  
Were't thou environed with a Brazen wall.  Clif. 
Now Richard, I am with thee here alone,  
This is the hand that stabbed 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. Rich. 
Nay Warwick, single out some other Chase,  
For I myself will hunt this Wolf to death.  Exeunt. Alarm. Enter King Henry alone. Hen. 
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 than 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 poise 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.  
Oh God! me thinks 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 makes the Hour full complete,  
How many Hours brings 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 Eane:  
So many years, ere I shall shear the Fleece:  
So Minutes, Hours, Days, Months, and Years,  
Past 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 Hawthorne bush a sweeter shade  
To Shepherds▪ looking on their silly Sheep,  
Then doth a rich Embroidered Canopy  
To Kings, that fear their Subject's treachery?  
Oh yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth.  
And to conclude, the Shepherds homely Curds,  
His cold thin drink out of his Leather Bottle,  
His wont sleep, under a fresh trees shade,  
All which secure, and sweetly he enjoys,  
Is fare 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.  Alarm. Enter a Son that hath killed his Father, at one door: and a Father that hath killed his Son at another door. Son. 
Ill blows the wind that profits no body,  
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? Oh God! It is my Father's face,  
Whom in this Conflict, I (unwares) have killed:  
Oh heavy times! begetting such Events.  
From London, by the King was I pressed forth,  
My Father being the Earl of Warwick's man,  
Came on the part of York, pressed by his Master:  
And I, who at his hands received my life,  
Have by my hands, of Life bereft 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 flowed their fill.  King. 
O piteous spectacle! O bloody Times!  
Whiles Lion's 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 Father, bearing of his Son. Fa. 
Thou that so stoutly hath 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 wounds, that kills mine Eye, and Heart,  
O pity God, this miserable Age!  
What Stratagems? how fell? how Butcherly?  
Erreoneous, 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. 
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 (me thinks) presenteth:  
Whither one Rose, and let the other flourish:  
If you contend, a thousand lives must whither.  Son. 
How will my Mother, for a Father's death  
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied?  Fa. 
How will my Wife, for slaughter of my Son,  
Shed seas of Tears, and ne'er be satisfied?  King. 
How will the Country, for these woeful chances,  
Misthink the King, and not be satisfied?  Son. 
Was ever son, so rued a Father's death?  Fath. 
Was ever Father so bemoaned his Son?  Hen. 
Was ever King so grieved for Subject's woe?  
Much is your sorrow; Mine, ten times so much.  Son. 
I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.  Fath. 
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,  
Men 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 Hen. 
Sad-hearted-men, much overgone with Care;  
here sits a King, more woeful than you are.  Alarms. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the Prince, and Exeter. Prin. 
Fly Father, fly: for all your Friends are fled.  
And Warwick rages like a chafed Bull:  
Away, for death doth hold us in pursuit.  Qu. 
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 grasped in their ireful hands  
Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain.  Exet. 
Away: for vengeance comes along with them.  
Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed,  
Or else come after, I'll away before.  Hen. 
Nay take me with thee, good sweet Exeter:  
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go  
Whether the Queen intends. Forward, away.  Exeunt A loud alarm. Enter Clifford Wounded. Clif. 
here burns my Candle out; I, here it dies,  
Which whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.  
O Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,  
More than my Bodies parting with my Soul:  
My Love and Fear, glued many Friends to thee,  
And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts,  
Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York;  
And whether fly the Gnats, but to the Sun?  
And who shines now, but Henry's Enemies?  
O Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent,  
That Phaeton should check thy fiery Steeds,  
Thy burning Car never had scorched the earth.  
And Henry, hadst thou swayed 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,  
Head 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 stabbed your Father's bosoms; Split my breast.  Alarm & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, and Soldier's, Montague, & Clarence. Ed. 
Now breath 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, filled with a fretting Gust  
Command an Argosy to stem the Waves.  
But think you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them?  War. 
No, 'tis impossible he should escape:  
(For though before his face I speak the words)  
Your Brother Richard marked him for the Grave.  
And wheresoever he is, he's surely dead.  Clifford groans Rich. 
Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?  
A deadly groan, like life and deaths departing.  
See who it is.  Ed. 
And now the Battles ended,  
If Friend or Foe, let him be gently used.  Rich. 
Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford,  
Who not contented that he lopped 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.  War. 
From off the gates of York, fetch down the head,  
Your Father's head, which Clifford placed there:  
In stead whereof, let this supply the room,  
Measure for measure, must be answered.  Ed. 
Bring forth that fatal Schreechowle 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.  War. 
I think is 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.  Rich. 
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.  Cla 
If so thou thinkest,  
Vex him with eager Words.  Rich. 
Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.  Ed. 
Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.  War. 
Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults,  Cla. 
While we device fell Tortures for thy faults.  Rich. 
Thou didd'st love York, and I am son to York.  Edw. 
Thou pittied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.  Cla. 
Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now?  War. 
They mock thee Clifford,  
Swear as thou was't wont.  Ric. 
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 hours' life,  
That I (in all despite) might rail at him,  
This hand should chop it off: & with the issuing Blood  
Stifle the Villain, whose unstanched thirst  
York, and young Rutland could not satisfy  War. 
I, but he's dead. Of with the Traitor's head,  
And rear it in the place your Fathers 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 sinow both these Lands together,  
And having France thy Friend, thou shalt not dread  
The scattered 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 Britanny I'll cross the Sea,  
To effect this marriage, so it please my Lord.  Ed. 
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.  Rich. 
Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloster,  
For Gloucester's Dukedom is too ominous.  War. 
Tut, that's a foolish observation:  
Richard▪ be Duke of Gloster: Now to London,  
To see these Honours in possession.  Exeunt Enter Sinklo, and Humphrey, with Crossbows in their hands. Sink. 
Under this thick grown brake, we'll shroud ourselves:  
For through this Land anon the Deer will come,  
And in this covert will we make our Stand,  
Culling the principal of all the Dear.  Hum. 
I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.  Sink. 
That cannot be, the noise of thy Crossbow  
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 selfe-place, where now we mean to stand.  Sink. 
here comes a man, let's stay till he be past:  Enter the King with a Prayer book. Hen. 
From Scotland am I stolen even of pure love,  
To greet mine own Land with my wishful sight:  
No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine,  
Thy place is filled, thy Sceptre wrung from thee,  
Thy Balm washed off, wherewith thou was 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?  Sink. 
I, here's a Deer, whose skin's a Keeper's Fee:  
This is the quondam King; Let's seize upon him.  Hen. 
Let me embrace the sour Adversaries,  
For Wise men say, it is the wisest course.  Hum. 
Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him.  Sink. 
Forbear awhile, we'll hear a little more.  Hen. 
My Queen and Son are gone to France for aid:  
And (as I hear) the great Commanding Warwick  
I: thither gone, to crave the French Kings 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.  
I, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give:  
She on his left side, craving aid for Henry;  
He on his right, ask a wife for Edward.  
She Weeps, and says, her Henry is deposed:  
He Smiles, and says, his Edward is instauled;  
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 wentest forlorn.  Hum. 
Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens?  King. 
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?  Hum. 
I, but thou talk'st, as if thou were't a King.  King. 
Why so I am (in Mind) and that's enough.  Hum. 
But if thou be a King, where is thy Crown?  King. 
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.  Hum. 
Well, if you be a King crowned 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. 
But did you never swear, and break an Oath.  Hum. 
No, never such an Oath, nor will not now.  King. 
Where did you dwell when I was K. of England?  Hum. 
here in this Country, where we now remain.  King. 
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?  Sin. 
No, for we were Subjects, but while you were king  King. 
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.  Sinklo. 
We are true Subjects to the king, King Edward.  King. 
So would you be again to Henry,  
If he were seated as king Edward is.  Sinklo. 
We charge you in God's name & the Kings,  
To go with us unto the Officers.  King. 
In God's name lead, your King's name be obeyed,  
And what God will, that let your King perform▪  
And what he will, I humbly yield unto.  Exeunt Enter K. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray. King. 
Brother of Gloster, at S. Albon's field  
This Lady's Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain,  
His Land 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.  Rich. 
Your Highness shall do well to grant her suit:  
It were dishonour to deny it her.  King. 
It were no less, but yet I'll make a pause.  Rich. 
Yea, is it so:  
I see the Lady hath a thing to grant,  
Before the King will grant her humble suit.  Clarence. 
He knows the Game, how true he keeps the wind?  Rich. 
Silence.  King. 
Widow, we will consider of your suit,  
And come some other time to know our mind.  Wid. 
Right gracious Lord, I cannot brook delay:  
May it please your Highness to resolve me now,  
And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.  Rich. 
I Widow? then I'll warrant you all your Lands,  
And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you:  
Fight closer, or good faith you'll catch a Blow.  Clarence. 
I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.  Rich. 
God forbidden that, for he'll take vantages.  King. 
How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell me.  Clarence. 
I think he means to beg a Child of her.  Rich. 
Nay then whip me: he'll rather give her two.  Wid. 
Three, my most gracious Lord.  Rich. 
You shall have four, if you'll be ruled by him.  King. 
'Twere pity they should lose their Father's Lands.  Wid. 
Be pitiful, dread Lord, and grant it then.  King. 
Lords give us leave, I'll try this Widows wit.  Rich. 
I, good leave have you, for you will have leave,  
Till Youth take leave, and leave you to the Crutch.  King. 
Now tell me, Madame, do you love your Children?  Wid. 
I, full as dear as I love myself.  King. 
And would you not do much to do them good?  Wid. 
To do them good, I would sustain some harm.  King. 
Then get your Husband's Lands, to do them good.  Wid. 
Therefore I came unto your Majesty.  King. 
I'll tell you how these Lands are to be got.  Wid. 
So shall you bind me to your Highness' service.  King. 
What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?  Wid. 
What you command, that rests in me to do.  King. 
But you will take exceptions to my Boon.  Wid. 
No, gracious Lord, except I cannot do it.  King. 
I, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.  Wid. 
Why then I will do what your Grace commands.  Rich. 
He plies her hard, and much Rain wears the Marble.  Clar. 
As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt.  Wid. 
Why stops my Lord? shall I not hear my Task?  King. 
An easy Task, 'tis but to love a King.  Wid. 
That's soon performed, because I am a Subject.  King. 
Why then, thy Husband's Lands I freely give thee.  Wid. 
I take my leave with many thousand thankes.  Rich. 
The Match is made, she seals it with a Curtsy.  King. 
But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean.  Wid. 
The fruits of Love, I mean, my loving Liege.  King. 
I, but I fear me in another sense.  
What Love, thinkest thou, I sue so much to get?  Wid. 
My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,  
That love which Virtue begs, and Virtue grants.  King. 
No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.  Wid. 
Why then you mean not, as I thought you did.  King. 
But now you partly may perceive my mind.  Wid. 
My mind will never grant what I perceive  
Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright.  King. 
To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.  Wid. 
To tell you plain, I had rather lie in Prison.  King. 
Why then thou shalt not have thy Husband's Lands.  Wid. 
Why then mine Honesty shall be my Dower,  
For by that loss, I will not purchase them.  King. 
Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily.  Wid. 
Herein your Highness wrongs both them & me:  
But mighty Lord, this merry inclination  
Accords not with the sadness of my suit:  
Please you dismiss me, either with I, or no.  King. 
I, if thou wilt say I to my request:  
No, if thou dost say No to my demand.  Wid. 
Than No, my Lord: my suit is at an end.  Rich. 
The Widow likes him not, she knits her Brows.  Clarence. 
He is the bluntest Wooer in Christendom.  King. 
Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty,  
Her Words doth 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?  Wid. 
'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord:  
I am a subject fit to jest withal,  
But fare unfit to be a Sovereign.  King. 
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..  Wid. 
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. 
You cavil, Widow, I did mean my Queen.  Wid. 
'Twill grieve your Grace, my Sons should call you Father.  King. 
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 othersome. Why, 'tis a happy thing,  
To be the Father unto many Sons:  
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.  Rich. 
The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift.  Clarence. 
When he was made a Shriver, 'twas for shift.  King. 
Brothers, you muse what Chat we two have had.  Rich. 
The Widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.  King. 
You'd think it strange, if I should marry her.  Clarence. 
To who, my Lord?  King. 
Why Clarence, to myself.  Rich. 
That would be ten days wonder at the least.  Clarence. 
That's a day longer than a Wonder lasts.  Rich. 
By so much is the Wonder in extremes.  King. 
Well, jest on Brothers: I can tell you both,  
Her suit is granted for her Husband's Lands.  Enter a Noble man. Nob. 
My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,  
And brought your Prisoner to your Palace Gate.  King. 
See that he be conveyed 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 honourable.  Exeunt. Manet Richard. Rich. 
I, 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 Souls desire, and me,  
The lustful Edward's Title buried,  
Is Clarence, Henry, and his Son young Edward,  
And all the vnlook'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 lad it dry, to have his way:  
So do I wish the Crown, being so fare 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 Eyes too quick, my Heart o're-weenes 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 Ladies Lap,  
And deck my Body in gay Ornaments,  
And ' witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Looks.  
Oh 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 withered 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 dis-proportion me in every part:  
Like to a Chaos, or an unlicked Bear-whelp,  
That carries no impression like the Dam.  
And am I then a man to be beloved?  
Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought.  
Then since this Earth affords no joy to me,  
But to command, to check, 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, t'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 Life's stand between me and home:  
And I, like one lost in a Thorny Wood,  
That rends the Thorns, and is rend 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 hue 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 slyly 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 Machevill to School.  
Can I do this, and cannot get a Crown?  
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.  Exit. Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his Admiral, called Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Lewis sits, and riseth up again. Lewis. 
Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret,  
Sat down with us: it ill befits thy State,  
And Birth, that thou shouldst stand, while Lewis doth sit.  Marg. 
No, mighty King of France: now Margaret  
Must strike her sail, and learn a while 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.  Lewis. 
Why say, fair Queen, whence springs this deep despair?  Marg. 
From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with tears,  
And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.  Lewis. 
What ere 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.  Marg. 
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 banished 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 Treasure seized, our Soldiers put to flight,  
And (as thou seest) ourselves in heavy plight.  Lewis. 
Renowned Queen,  
With patience calm the Storm,  
While we bethink a means to break it off.  Marg. 
The more we stay, the stronger grows our Foe.  Lewis. 
The more I stay, the more I'll secure thee.  Marg. 
O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.  
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.  Enter Warwick. Lewis. 
What's he approacheth boldly to our presence?  Marg. 
Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest Friend.  Lewis. 
Welcome brave Warwick, what brings thee to France?  He descends. She ariseth. Marg. 
I now gins a second Storm to rise,  
For this is he that moves both Wind and Tide.  Warw. 
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 Nuptial Knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant  
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair Sister,  
To England's King, in lawful Marriage.  Marg. 
If that go forward, Henry's hope is done.  Warw. 
And gracious Madame,  Speaking to Bona. 
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.  Marg. 
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 Usurper's sway the rule a while,  
Yet Heavens are just, and Time suppresseth Wrongs.  Warw. 
Injurious Margaret.  Edw. 
And why not Queen?  Warw. 
Because thy Father Henry did usurp,  
And thou no more art Prince, than she is Queen.  Oxf. 
Then Warwick disanulls 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 Fift,  
Who by his Prowess conquered all France:  
From these, our Henry lineally descends.  Warw. 
Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse,  
You told not, how Henry the sixth hath lost  
All that, which Henry the Fift 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.  Oxf. 
Why Warwick, canst thou speak against thy Liege,  
Whom thou obeyd'st thirty and six years,  
And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush?  Warw. 
Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,  
Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree?  
For shame leave Henry, and call Edward King.  Oxf. 
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 mellowed 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.  Warw. 
And I the House of York.  Lewis. 
Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,  
Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside,  
While I use further conference with Warwick.  They stand aloof. Marg. 
Heaven's grant, that Warwick's words bewitch him not.  Lew. 
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.  Warw. 
Thereon I pawn my Credit, and mine Honour.  Lewis. 
But is he gracious in the People's eye?  Warw. 
The more, that Henry was unfortunate.  Lewis. 
Then further: all dissembling set aside,  
Tell me for truth, the measure of his Love  
Unto our Sister Bona.  War. 
Such it seems,  
As may beseem a Monarch like himself.  
Myself have often heard him say, and swear,  
That this his Love was an external Plant,  
Whereof the Root was fixed in Virtue's ground,  
The Leaves and Fruit maintained with Beauty's Sun,  
Exempt from Envy, but not from Disdain,  
Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.  Lewis. 
Now Sister, let us hear your firm resolve.  Bona. 
Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine.  
Yet I confess, that often ere this day,  Speaks to War. 
When I have heard your King's desert recounted,  
Mine ear hath tempted judgement to desire.  Lewis. 
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 counter-poysed:  
Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness,  
That Bona shall be Wife to the English King.  Pr. Edw. 
To Edward, but not to the English King.  Marg. 
Deceitful Warwick, it was thy device,  
By this alliance to make void my suit:  
Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend.  Lewis. 
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.  Warw. 
Henry now life's 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.  Mar. 
Peace impudent, and shameless Warwick,  
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 Lords false love,  Post blowing a horn Within. 
For both of you are Birds of selfsame Feather.  jews. 
Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee.  Enter the Post. Post. 
My Lord Ambassador,  
These Letters are for you.  Speaks to Warwick, 
Sent from your Brother marquis Montague.  
These from our King, unto your Majesty.  To Lewis. 
And Madam, these for you:  To Margaret 
From whom, I know not.  They all read their Letters. Oxf. 
I like it well, that our fair Queen and Mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.  Prince Ed. 
Nay mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled. I hope, all's for the best.  Lew. 
Warwick, what are thy News?  
And yours, fair Queen.  Mar. 
Mine such, as fill my heart with unhoped joys.  War. 
Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent.  Lew. 
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 th' Alliance that he seeks with France?  
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?  Mar. 
I told your Majesty as much before:  
This proveth Edward's Love, and Warwick's honesty.  War. 
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 th' abuse done to my Niece?  
Did I impale him with the Regal Crown?  
Did I put Henry from his Native Right?  
And am I guerdoned at the last, with Shame?  
Shame on himself, for my Desert is Honor.  
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.  Mar. 
Warwick,  
These words have turned my Hate, to Love,  
And I forgive, and quite forget old faults,  
And joy that thou becomest King Henry's Friend.  War. 
So much his Friend, I, 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 newmade Bride shall secure 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 then for strength and safety of our Country.  Bona. 
Dear Brother, how shall Bona be revenged,  
But by thy help to this distressed Queen?  Mar. 
Renowned Prince, how shall Poor Henry live,  
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?  Bona. 
My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one.  War. 
And mine fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.  Lew. 
And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margaret's.  
Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolved  
You shall have aid.  Mar. 
Let me give humble thankes for all, at once.  Lew. 
Then England's Messenger, return in Post,  
And tell false Edward, thy supposed King,  
That Lewis of France, is sending over Maskers  
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 wear the Willow Garland for his sake.  Mar. 
Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid aside,  
And I am ready to put Armour on.  War. 
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. Lew. 
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?  War. 
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.  Mar. 
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.  Prin. Ed. 
Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it,  
And here to pledge my Vow, I give my hand.  He gives his hand to Warw. Lew. 
Why stay we now? These soldiers shallbe levied,  
And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral  
Shall 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. Manet Warwick. War. 
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 stolen 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. Enter Richard, Clarence, Summersault, and Montague. Rich. 
Now tell me Brother Clarence, what think you  
Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray?  
Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?  Cla. 
Alas, you know, 'tis fare from hence to France,  
How could he stay till Warwick made return?  Som. 
My Lords, forbear this talk: here comes the King.  Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Pembroke, Stafford, Hastings: four stand on one side, and four on the other. Rich. 
And his well-chosen Bride.  Clarence. 
I mind to tell him plainly what I think.  King. 
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 judgement,  
That they'll take no offence at our abuse.  King. 
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.  Rich. 
And shall have your will, because our King:  
Yet hasty Marriage seldom proveth well.  King. 
Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too?  Rich. 
Not I: no:  
God forbidden, that I should wish them severed,  
Whom God hath joined together:  
I, and 'twere pity, to sunder them,  
That yoke so well together.  King. 
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, Summersault, 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.  Rich. 
And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,  
Is now dishonoured by this new Marriage.  King. 
What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased,  
By such invention as I can device?  Mount. 
Yet, to have joined with France in such alliance,  
Would more have strengthened this our Commonwealth  
'Gainst foreign storms, than any homebred Marriage.  Hast. 
Why, knows not Montague, that of itself,  
England is safe, if true within itself?  Mount. 
But the safer, when 'tis backed with France.  Hast. 
'Tis better using France, then trusting France:  
Let us be backed 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.  Clar. 
For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserves  
To have the Heir of the Lord Hungerford.  King. 
I, what of that? it was my will, and grant,  
And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law.  Rich. 
And yet me thinks, 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.  Clar. 
Or else you would not have bestowed the Heir  
Of the Lord Bonville on your new Wife's Son,  
And leave your Brothers to go speed elsewhere.  King. 
Alas, poor Clarence: is it for a Wife  
That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.  Clarence. 
In choosing for yourself,  
You showed your judgement:  
Which being shallow, you shall give me leave  
To play the Broker in mine own behalf;  
And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.  King. 
Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be King,  
And not be tied unto his Brothers will.  Lady Grey. 
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 dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,  
Doth cloud my joys with danger, and with sorrow.  King. 
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.  Rich. 
I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.  Enter a Post. King. 
Now Messenger, what Letters, or what News from France?  Post. 
My Sovereign Liege, no Letters, & few words,  
But such, as I (without your special pardon)  
Dare not relate.  King. 
Go too, 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, the supposed King,  
That Lewis of France is sending over Maskers,  
To revel it with him, and his new Bride.  King. 
Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks me Henry.  
But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage?  Post. 
These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdain:  
Tell him, in hope he'll prove a Widower shortly,  
I'll wear the Willow Garland for his sake.  King. 
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. 
Belike she minds to play the Amazon.  
But what said Warwick to these injuries?  Post. 
He, more incensed against your Majesty,  
Then 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. 
Ha'? durst the Traitor breath out so proud words?  
Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned:  
They shall have Wars, and pay for their presumption.  
But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?  Post. 
I, gracious Sovereign,  
They are so linked 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 Summersault follows. Rich. 
Not I:  
My thoughts aim at a further matter:  
I stay not for the love of Edward, but the Crown.  King. 
Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick?  
Yet am I armed 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 strait 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 departed to him:  
I rather wish you foes, then 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.  Mount. 
So God help Montague, as he proves true.  Hast. 
And Hastings, as he favours Edward's cause.  King. 
Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by us?  Rich. 
I, in despite of all that shall withstand you.  King. 
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. Enter Warwick and Oxford in England, with French Soldiers. Warw. 
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 comes:  
Speak suddenly, my Lords, are we all friends?  Clar. 
Fear not that, my Lord.  Warw. 
Then gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick,  
And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardice,  
To rest mistrustful, where a Noble Heart  
Hath pawned an open Hand, in sign of Love;  
Else might I think, that Clarence, Edward's Brother,  
Were but a feigned friend to our proceed:  
But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine.  
And now, what rests? but in Night's Coverture,  
Thy Brother being carelessly encamped,  
His Soldiers lurking in the Town 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 Diomedes,  
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents,  
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal Steeds;  
So we, well covered with the Night's black Mantle,  
At unawares may beat down Edward's Guard,  
And seize himself: I say not, slaughter him,  
For I intent 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. Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent. 1. Watch. 
Come on my Masters, each man take his stand,  
The King by this, is set him down to sleep.  2. Watch. 
What, will he not to Bed?  1. Watch. 
Why, no: for he hath made a solemn Vow,  
Never to lie and take his natural Rest,  
Till Warwick, or himself, be quite suppressed.  2. Watch. 
To morrow then belike shall be the day,  
If Warwick be so near as men report.  3. Watch. 
But say, I pray, what Noble man▪ is that,  
That with the King here resteth in his Tent?  1. Watch. 
'Tis the Lord Hastings, the King's chiefest friend.  3. Watch. 
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?  2. Watch. 
'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous.  3. Watch. 
I, 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.  1. Watch. 
Unless our Halberds did shut up his passage.  2. Watch. 
I: wherefore else guard we his Royal Tent,  
But to defend his Person from Night-foes?  Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Summersault, and French Soldiers, silent all. Warw. 
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.  1. Watch. 
Who goes there?  2. Watch. 
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. Enter Warwick, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King out in his Gown, sitting in a Chair: Richard and Hastings flies over the Stage. Som. 
What are they that fly there?  Warw. 
Richard and Hastings: let them go, here is the Duke.  K. Edw. 
The Duke?  
Why Warwick, when we parted,  
Thou called'st me King.  Warw. 
I, but the case is altered.  
When you disgraced me in my ambassade,  
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?  K. Edw. 
Yea, Brother of Clarence,  
Art 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 overthrew my State,  
My mind exceeds the compass of her Wheel.  Warw. 
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 conveyed  
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 awhile farewell good Duke of York.  They lead him out forcibly. K. Ed. 
What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;  
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.  Exeunt. Oxf. 
What now remains my Lords for us to do,  
But march to London with our Soldiers?  War. 
I, that's the first thing that we have to do,  
To free King Henry from imprisonment,  
And see him seated in the Regal Throne.  exit. Enter Rivers, and Lady Gray. Riu. 
Madam, what makes you in this sudden change?  Gray. 
Why Brother Rivers, are you yet to learn  
What late misfortune is befallen King Edward?  Riu. 
What loss of some pitched battle  
Against Warwick?  Gray. 
No, but the loss of his own Royal person.  Riu. 
Then is my Sovereign slain?  Gray. 
I almost slain, for he is taken prisoner,  
Either betrayed 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.  Riu. 
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.  Gray. 
Till then, fair hope must hinder lives decay:  
And I the rather wain 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 misfortunes cross:  
I, I, for this I draw in many a tear,  
And stop the rising of bloodsucking sighs,  
Lest with my sighs or tears, I blast or drown  
King Edward's Fruit, true heir to th' English Crown.  Riu. 
But Madam,  
Where is Warwick then become?  Gray. 
I am informed 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 dye.  exeunt. Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley. Rich. 
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 stand 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,  
Come hunting this way to disport himself.  
I have advertised him by secret means,  
That if about this hour he make this 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, and a Huntsman with him. Huntsman. 
This way my Lord,  
For this way lies the Game.  King Edw. 
Nay this way man,  
See where the Huntsmen stand.  
Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest,  
Stand you thus close to steal the Bishop's Deer?  Rich. 
Brother, the time and case, requireth haste,  
Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner.  King Ed. 
But whether shall we then?  Hast. 
To Lyn my Lord,  
And shipped from thence to Flanders.  Rich. 
Well guest believe me, for that was my meaning  K. Ed. 
Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.  Rich. 
But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk.  K. Ed. 
Huntsman, what sayest thou?  
Wilt thou go along?  Hunts. 
Better do so, then tarry and be hanged.  Rich. 
Come then away, let's ha' no more ado.  K. Ed. 
Bishop farewell,  
Shield thee from Warwick's frown,  
And pray that I may repossess the Crown.  exeunt Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixth, Clarence, Warwick, Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Montague, and Lieutenant. K. Hen. 
M. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends  
Have shaken Edward from the Regal seat,  
And turned my captive state to liberty,  
My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys,  
At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?  Lieu. 
Subject's may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains  
But, if an humble prayer may prevail,  
I then crave pardon of your Majesty.  K. Hen. 
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:  
I, 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 settest 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 punished 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.  Warw. 
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.  Clar. 
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 blessed in Peace and War:  
And therefore I yield thee my free consent.  Warw. 
And I choose Clarence only for Protector.  King. 
Warwick and Clarence, give me both your Hands:  
Now join your Hands, & 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 sins rebuke, and my Creator's praise.  Warw. 
What answers Clarence to his Sovereign's will?  Clar. 
That he consents, if Warwick yield consent,  
For on thy fortune I repose myself.  Warw. 
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 than it is more than needful,  
Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a Traitor,  
And all his Lands and Goods confiscate.  Clar. 
What else? and that Succession be determined.  Warw. 
I, therein Clarence shall not want his part.  King. 
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.  Clar. 
It shall be done, my Sovereign, with all speed.  King. 
My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that,  
Of whom you seem to have so tender care?  Somers. 
My Liege, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond.  King. 
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. Warw. 
What news, my friend?  Post. 
That Edward is escaped from your Brother,  
And fled (as he hears since) to Burgundy.  Warw. 
Unsavoury news: but how made he escape?  Post. 
He was conveyed by Richard, Duke of Gloster,  
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.  Warw. 
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. Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford. Som. 
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 mis-give 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 passed of Civil Enmity.  Oxf. 
I: for if Edward repossess the Crown,  
'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall down.  Som. 
It shall be so: he shall to Brittany.  
Come therefore, let's about it speedily.  Exeunt. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Soldiers. Edw. 
Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,  
Yet thus fare Fortune maketh us amends,  
And says, that once more I shall interchange  
My wained state, for Henry's Regal Crown.  
Well have we passed, and now repassed the Seas,  
And brought desired help from Burgundy.  
What then remains, we being thus arrived  
From Ravenspurre Haven, before the Gates of York,  
But that we enter, as into our Dukedom?  Rich. 
The Gates made fast?  
Brother, I like not this.  
For many men that stumble at the Threshold,  
Are well foretell, that danger lurks within.  Edw. 
Tush man, aboadments must not now affright us:  
By fair or foul means we must enter in,  
For hither will our friends repair to us.  Hast. 
My Liege, I'll knock once more, to summon them.  Enter on the Walls, the Mayor of York, and his Brethren. Maior. 
My Lords,  
We were forewarned of your coming,  
And shut the Gates, for safety of ourselves;  
For now we own allegiance unto Henry.  Edw. 
But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King,  
Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of York.  Maior. 
True, my good Lord, I know you for no less.  Edw. 
Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedom,  
As being well content with that alone.  Rich. 
But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose,  
he'll soon find means to make the Body follow.  Hast. 
Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt?  
Open the Gates, we are King Henry's friends.  Maior. 
I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.  He descends. Rich. 
A wise stout Captain, and soon persuaded.  Hast. 
The good old man would feign that all were well,  
So 'twere not long of him: but being entered,  
I doubt not I, but we shall soon persuade  
Both him, and all his Brothers, unto reason.  Enter the Mayor, and two Aldermen. Edw. 
So, Master Maior: 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 Mountgomerie, with Drum and Soldiers. Rich. 
Brother, this is Sir john Mountgomerie,  
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.  Edw. 
Welcome Sir john: but why come you in Arms?  Mount. 
To help King Edward in his time of storm,  
As every loyal Subject ought to do.  Edw. 
Thanks good Mountgomerie:  
But we now forget our Title to the Crown,  
And only claim our Dukedom,  
Till God please to send the rest.  Mount. 
Then far 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 gins to march. Edw. 
Nay stay, Sir john, a while, and we'll debate  
By what safe means the Crown may be recovered.  Mount. 
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 secure you.  
Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title?  Rich. 
Why Brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?  Edw. 
When we grow stronger,  
Then we'll make our Claim:  
Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.  Hast. 
Away with scrupulous Wit, now Arms must rule.  Rich. 
And fearless minds climb soon unto Crowns.  
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand,  
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.  Edw. 
Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right,  
And Henry but usurps the Diadem.  Mount. 
I, now my Sovereign speaketh like himself,  
And now will I be Edward's Champion.  Hast. 
Sound Trumpet, Edward shall be here proclaimed:  
Come, fellow Soldier, make thou proclamation.  Flourish. Sound. Soul. 
Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, etc.  Mount. 
And whosoever gain says King Edward's right,  
By this I challenge him to single fight.  Throws down his Gauntlet. All. 
Long live Edward the Fourth.  Edw. 
Thanks brave Mountgomery,  
And thankes 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 wots, 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. Flourish. Enter the King, Warwick, Montague, Clarence, Oxford, and Summersault. War. 
What counsel, Lords? Edward from Belgia,  
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,  
Hath passed in safety through the Narrow Seas,  
And with his troops doth march amain to London,  
And many giddy people flock to him.  King. 
Let's levy men, and beat him back again,  Clar. 
A little fire is quickly trodden out,  
Which being suffered, Rivers cannot quench.  War. 
In Warwickshire I have truehearted 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 Diana, 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. 
Farewell my Hector, and my Troy's true hope.  Clar. 
In sign of truth, I kiss your Highness' Hand.  King. 
Wellminded Clarence, be thou fortunate.  Mount. 
Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leave.  Oxf. 
And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.  King. 
Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,  
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.  War. 
Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Coventry.  Exeunt. King. 
Here at the Palace will I rest a while.  
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship?  
Me thinks, the Power that Edward hath in field,  
Should not be able to encounter mine.  Exet. 
The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest.  King. 
That's not my fear, my meed hath got me fame:  
I have not stopped 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 allayed their swelling griefs,  
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears.  
I have not been desirous of their wealth,  
Nor much oppressed them with great Subsidies,  
Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred.  
Then why should they love Edward more than me?  
No Exeter, these Grace's challenge Grace:  
And when the Lion fawns upon the Lamb,  
The Lamb will never cease to follow him.  Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster. Exet. 
Hark, hark, my Lord, what Shouts are these?  Enter Edward and his Soldiers. Edw. 
Seize on the shamefaced 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 shall suck them dry,  
And swell so much the higher, by their ebb.  
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speak.  Exit with King Henry. 
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.  Rich. 
Away betimes, before his forces join,  
And take the great-growne Traitor unawares:  
Brave Warriors, march amain towards Coventry.  Exeunt. Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and others upon the Walls. War. 
Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford?  
How fare hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?  Mess. 1. 
By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.  War. 
How fare off is our Brother Montague?  
Where is the Post that came from Montague?  Mess. 2. 
By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.  Enter Someruile. War. 
Say Someruile, what says my loving Son?  
And by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?  Someru. 
At Southam I did leave him with his forces,  
And do expect him here some two hours hence.  War. 
Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his Drum.  Someru. 
It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lies:  
The Drum your Honour hears, marcheth from Warwick.  War. 
Who should that be? belike unlooked for friends.  Someru. 
They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.  March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, and Soldiers. Edw. 
Go, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle.  Rich. 
See how the surly Warwick man's the Wall.  War. 
Oh unbid spite, is sportful Edward come?  
Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduced,  
That we could hear no news of his repair.  Edw. 
Now Warwick, wilt thou open 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?  War. 
Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,  
Confess who set thee up, and plucked thee down,  
Call Warwick Patron, and be penitent,  
And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.  Rich. 
I thought at least he would have said the King,  
Or did he make the jest against his will?  War. 
Is not a Dukedom, Sir, a goodly gift?  Rich. 
I, by my faith, for a poor Earl to give,  
I'll do thee service for so good a gift.  War. 
'Twas I that gave the Kingdom to thy Brother.  Edw. 
Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift.  War. 
Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:  
And Weakling, Warwick takes his gift again,  
And Henry is my King, Warwick his Subject.  Edw. 
But Warwick's King is Edward's Prisoner:  
And gallant Warwick, do but answer this,  
What is the Body, when the Head is off?  Rich. 
Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,  
But whiles he thought to steal the single Ten,  
The King was slyly fingered from the Deck:  
You left poor Henry at the Bishop's Palace,  
And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower.  Edw. 
'Tis even so, yet you are Warwick still.  Rich. 
Come Warwick,  
Take the time, kneel down, kneel down:  
Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cools.  War. 
I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,  
And with the other, fling it at thy face,  
Then bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.  Edw. 
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,  
Writ in the dust this Sentence with thy blood,  
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.  Enter Oxford, with Drum and Colours. War. 
Oh cheerful Colours, see where Oxford comes.  Oxf. 
Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster.  Rich. 
The Gates are open, let us enter too.  Edw. 
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.  War. 
Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy help.  Enter Montague, with Drum and Colours. Mount. 
Montague, Montague, for Lancaster.  Rich. 
Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason  
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.  Edw. 
The harder matched, the greater Victory,  
My mind presageth happy gain, and Conquest.  Enter Somerset, with Drum and Colours. Som. 
Summersault, Summersault, for Lancaster.  Rich. 
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. War. 
And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,  
Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile:  
With whom, in upright zeal to right, prevails  
More than the nature of a Brothers Love..  
Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwick call.  Clar. 
Father of Warwick, know you what this means?  
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee:  
I will not ruinated my Father's House,  
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,  
And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest 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,  
Then jephah, 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, wheresoever I meet thee,  
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad)  
To plague thee, for thy foul mis-leading me.  
And so, prowd-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.  Edw. 
Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved,  
Then if thou never hadst deserved our hate.  Rich. 
Welcome good Clarence, this is Brotherlike.  Warw. 
Oh passing Traitor, perjured and unjust.  Edw. 
What Warwick,  
Wilt thou leave the Town, and fight?  
Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Ears?  Warw. 
Alas, I am not cooped here for defence:  
I will away towards Barnet presently,  
And bid thee Battle, Edward, if thou darest.  Edw. 
Yes Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way:  
Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victory.  Exeunt. March. Warwick and his company follows. Alarm, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwick wounded. Edw. 
So, lie thou there: die thou, and dye our fear,  
For Warwick was a Bug that feared us all.  
Now Montague sit fast, I seek for thee,  
That Warwick's Bones may keep thine company.  Exit. Warw. 
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 Axes edge,  
Whose Arms gave shelter to the Princely Eagle,  
Under whose shade the ramping Lion slept,  
Whose top-branch ouer-peered Jove's spreading Tree,  
And kept low Shrubs from Winter's powerful Wind.  
These Eyes, that now are dimmed with Death's black Veil,  
Have been as piercing as the Midday Sun,  
To search the secret Treasons of the World:  
The Wrinkles in my Brows, now filled with blood,  
Were likened oft to Kingly Sepulchers:  
For who lived King, but I could dig his Grave?  
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his Brow?  
Lo, now my Glory smeared 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. Som. 
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, couldst thou fly.  Warw. 
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 a while.  
Thou lov'st me not: for, Brother, if thou didst,  
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood,  
That glewes my Lips, and will not let me speak.  
Come quickly Montague, or I am dead.  Som. 
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 Cannon in a Vault,  
That might not be distinguished: but at last,  
I well might hear, delivered with a groan,  
Oh farewell Warwick.  Warw. 
Sweet rest his Soul:  
Fly Lords, and save yourselves,  
For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in Heaven.  Oxf. 
Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power.  Here they bear away his Body. Exeunt. Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the rest. King. 
Thus fare 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.  Clar. 
A little gale will soon disperse that Cloud,  
And blow it to the Source from whence it came,  
Thy very Beams will dry those Vapours up,  
For every Cloud engenders not a Storm.  Rich. 
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. 
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 strait, 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. Flourish. March. Enter the Queen, young Edward, Summersault, Oxford, and Soldiers. Qu. 
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 swallowed in the flood?  
Yet life's 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 Topmast: what of him?  
Our slaughtered friends, the Tackles: what of these?  
Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?  
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?  
The friends of France our Shrowds and Tackle?  
And though unskilful, why not Ned and I,  
For once allowed the skilful Pilots 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 Wrack.  
As good to chide the Waves, as speak them fair.  
And what is Edward, but a ruthless Sea?  
What Clarence, but a Quicksand of Deceit?  
And Richard, but a raged 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. 
Me thinks 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 forbidden,  
Let him departed, before we need his help.  Oxf. 
Women and Children of so high a courage,  
And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetual shame.  
Oh brave young Prince: thy famous Grandfather  
Doth live again in thee; long may'st thou live,  
To bear his Image, and renew his Glories.  Som. 
And he that will not fight for such a hope,  
Go home to Bed, and like the Owl by day,  
If he arise, be mocked and wondered at.  Qu. 
Thanks gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes.  Prince. 
And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing else.  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,  
Ready to fight: therefore be resolute.  Oxf. 
I thought no less: it is his Policy,  
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.  Som. 
But he's deceived, we are in readiness.  Qu. 
This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.  Oxf. 
Here pitch our Battle, hence we will not budge.  Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and Soldiers. Edw. 
Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny Wood,  
Which by the Heaven's assistance, and your strength,  
Must by the Roots be hew'ne up yet ere Night.  
I need not add more fuel to your fire,  
For well I wots, ye blaze, to burn them out:  
Give signal to the fight, and to it Lords.  Qu. 
Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say,  
My tears gainsay: for every word I speak,  
Ye see I drink the water of my eye.  
Therefore no more but this: Henry your Sovereign  
Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State usurped,  
His Realm a slaughter-house, his Subjects slain,  
His Statutes cancelled, 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.  Alarm, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queen, Clarence, Oxford, Summersault. Edw. 
Now here a period of tumultuous Broils.  
Away with Oxford to Hames Castle strait:  
For Somerset, off with his guilty Head.  
Go bear them hence, I will not hear them speak.  Oxf. 
For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.  Som. 
Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.  Exeunt. Qu. 
So part we sadly in this troublous World,  
To meet with joy in sweet jerusalem.  Edw. 
Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,  
Shall have a high Reward, and he his Life?  Rich. 
It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes.  Enter the Prince. Edw. 
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 turned me to?  Prince. 
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.  Qu. 
Ah, that thy Father had been so resolved.  Rich. 
That you might still have worn the Petticoat,  
And ne'er have stolen the Breech from Lancaster.  Prince. 
Let Aesop fable in a Winter's Night,  
His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place.  Rich. 
By Heaven, Brat, I'll plague ye for that word.  Qu. 
I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men.  Rich. 
For God's sake, take away this Captive Scold.  Prince. 
Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe, rather.  Edw. 
Peace wilful Boy, or I will charm your tongue.  Clar. 
Untutored Lad, thou art too malapert.  Prince. 
I know my duty, you are all undutiful:  
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George,  
And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all,  
I am your better, Traitors as ye are,  
And thou usurpest my Father's right and mine.  Edw. 
Take that, the likeness of this Railer here.  Stabs him. Rich. 
Sprawlest thou? take that, to end thy agony.  Rich. stabs him. Clar. 
And there's for twitting me with perjury.  Clar. stabs him. Qu. 
Oh, kill me too.  Rich. 
Marry, and shall.  Offers to kill her. Edw. 
Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.  Rich. 
Why should she live, to fill the World with words.  Edw. 
What? doth she swoon? use means for her recovery.  Rich. 
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.  Cla. 
What? what?  Rich. 
Tower, the Tower.  Exit. Qu. 
Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy Mother Boy.  
Canst thou not speak? O Traitors, Murderers!  
They that stabbed 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 cropped:  
You have no children (Butchers) if you had,  
The thought of them would have stirred up remorse,  
But if you ever chance to have a Child,  
Look in his youth to have him so cut off.  
As deathsmen you have rid this sweet young Prince.  King. 
Away with her, go bear her hence perforce.  Qu. 
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.  Cla. 
By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.  Qu. 
Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it.  Cla. 
Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?  Qu. 
I, but thou usest to forswear thyself.  
'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.  
What wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher Richard?  
Hard favoured Richard? Richard, where art thou?  
Thou art not here; Murder is thy Almsdeed:  
Petitioners for Blood, thou ne'er puttest back.  Ed. 
Away I say, I charge ye bear her hence,  Qu. 
So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.  Exit Queen. Ed. 
Where's Richard gone.  Cla. 
To London all in post, and as I guess,  
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.  Ed. 
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.  Exit. Enter Henry the sixth, and Richard, with the Lieutenant on the Walls. Rich. 
Good day, my Lord, what at your Book so hard?  Hen. 
I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,  
'tis sin to flatter, Good was little better:  
‛ Good Gloster, and good Devil, were alike,  
And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord.  Rich. 
Sirrah, leave us to ourselves, we must confer.  Hen. 
So flies the wreakless 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 Rossius now to Act?  Rich. 
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind,  
The Thief doth fear each bush an Officer,  Hen. 
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 limned, was caught, and killed.  Rich. 
Why what a peevish Fool was that of Crete,  
That taught his Son the office of a Fowl,  
And yet for all his wings, the Fool was drowned.  Hen. 
I Dedaius, my poor Boy Icarus,  
Thy Father Minos, that denied our course,  
The Sun that seared 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,  
Then can my ears that Tragic History.  
But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?  Rich. 
Thinkest thou I am an Executioner?  Hen. 
A Persecutor I am sure thou art,  
If murdering Innocents be Executing.  
Why then thou art an Executioner.  Rich. 
Thy Son I killed for his presumption.  Hen. 
Hadst thou been killed, 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 Widows,  
And many an Orphan's water-standing-eye,  
Men for their Sons, Wives for their Husbands,  
Orphans, for their Parents timeless death,  
Shall rue the hour that ever thou was't borne.  
The Owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign,  
The Night-Crow cried, aboding luckless time,  
Dogs howled, and hideous Tempest shook down Trees:  
The Raven rooked 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 was't borne,  
To signify, thou cam'st to bite the world:  
And if the rest be true, which I have heard,  
Thou cam'st—  Rich. 
I'll hear no more:  
die Prophet in thy speech,  Stabs him. 
For this (amongst the rest) was I ordained.  Hen. 
I, and for much more slaughter after this,  
O God forgive my sins, and pardon thee.  Dies. Rich. 
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 always 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 usurped our Right?  
The Midwife wondered, and the Women cried  
O jesus bless us, he is borne 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 crooked 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 keept'st me from the Light,  
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:  
For I will buzz 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. Flourish. Enter King, Queen, Clarence, Richard, Hastings, Nurse, and Attendants. King. 
Once more we sit in England's Royal Throne,  
Re-purchaced with the Blood of Enemies:  
What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumn's Corn,  
Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride?  
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renown,  
For hardy and undoubted Champions:  
Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Son,  
And two Northumberlands: two braver men,  
ne'er spurred their Coursers at the Trumpets sound.  
With them, the two brave Bears, Warwick & Montague,  
That in their Chains fettered the Kingly Lion,  
And made the Forest tremble when they roared.  
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 watched 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.  Rich. 
I'll blast his Harvest, if your head were laid,  
For yet I am not looked on in the world.  
This shoulder was ordained so thick, to heave,  
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back,  
Work thou the way, and that shalt execute.  King. 
Clarence and Gloster, love my lovely Queen,  
And kiss your Princely Nephew Brothers both.  Cla. 
The duty that I own unto your Majesty,  
I Seal upon the lips of this sweet Babe.  Cla. 
Thank Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks.  Rich. 
And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st:  
Witness the loving kiss I give the Fruit,  
To say the truth, so judas kissed his master,  
And cried all hail, when as he meant all harm.  King. 
Now am I seated as my soul delights,  
Having my Country's peace, and Brothers loves.  Cla. 
What will your Grace have done with Margaret,  
Reynard her Father, to the King of France  
Hath pawned the Sicils and jerusalem,  
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.  King. 
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 gins our lasting joy.  Exeunt omnes   
FINIS.   

The Tragedy of Richard the Third: with the Landing of Earl Richmond, and the Battle at Bosworth Field.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Richard Duke of Gloster, solus. 
NOw is the Winter of our Discontent,  
Made glorious Summer by this Son of York:  
And all the clouds that loured 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 Alarms changed to merry Meetings;  
Our dreadful Marches, to delightful Measures.  
Grim-visaged War, hath smoothed his wrinkled Front:  
And now, in stead of mounting Barbed Steeds,  
To fright the Souls of fearful Adversaries,  
He caper's 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 stamped, and want love's Majesty,  
To strut before a wanton ambling Nymph:  
I, that am curtailed of this fair Proportion,  
Cheated of Feature by dissembling Nature,  
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time  
Into this breathing World, scarce half made up,  
And that so lamely and unfashionable,  
That dog's 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 see 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 mewed 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, and Brakenbury▪ guarded. 
Brother, good day: What means this armed guard  
That waits upon your Grace?  Cla. 
His Majesty tendering my persons safety,  
Hath appointed this Conduct, to convey me to th' Tower  Rich. 
Upon what cause?  Cla. 
Because my name is George.  Rich. 
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 should be new Christened in the Tower.  
But what's the matter Clarence, may I know?  Cla. 
Yea Richard, when I know: but I protest  
As yet I do not: But as I can learn,  
He hearkens after Prophecies and Dreams,  
And from the Crosse-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 gins with G,  
It follows in his thought, that I am he.  
These (as I learn) and such like toys as these,  
Hath moved his Highness to commit me now.  Rich. 
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 tempts him to this harsh Extremity.  
Was it not she, and that good man of Worship,  
Anthony Woodeulle her Brother there,  
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower?  
From whence this present day he is delivered?  
We are not safe Clarence, we are not safe.  Cla. 
By heaven, I think there is no man secure  
But the Queen's Kindred, and nightwalking Heralds,  
That trudge betwixt the King, and Mistress Shore.  
Herd you not what an humble Suppliant  
Lord Hastings was, for her delivery?  Rich. 
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 dubbed them Gentlewomen,  
Are mighty Gossips in our Monarchy.  Bra. 
I beseech your Graces both to pardon me,  
His Majesty hath straightly given in charge,  
That no man shall have private Conference  
(Of what degree soever) with your Brother.  Rich. 
Even so, and 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 strooke 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?  Bra. 
With this (my Lord) myself have nought to do.  Rich. 
Naught to do with Mistress Shore?  
I tell thee Fellow, he that doth naught with her  
(Excepting one) were best to do it secretly alone.  Bra. 
What one, my Lord?  Rich. 
Her Husband Knave, wouldst thou betray me?  Bra. 
I do beseech your Grace  
To pardon me, and withal forbear  
Your Conference with the Noble Duke.  Cia. 
We know thy charge Brakenbury, and will obey.  Rich. 
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 infranchise you▪  
Mean time, this deep disgrace in Brotherhood.  
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.  Cla. 
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.  Rich. 
Well, your imprisonment shall not be long,  
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:  
Mean time, have patience.  Cla. 
I must perforce: Farewell.  Exit Clar. Rich. 
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 delivered Hastings?  Enter Lord Hastings. Hast. 
Good time of day unto my gracious Lord.  Rich. 
As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain:  
Well are you welcome to this open Air,  
How hath your Lordship brooked imprisonment?  Hast. 
With patience (Noble Lord) as prisoners must:  
But I shall live (my Lord) to give them thankes  
That were the cause of my imprisonment.  Rich. 
No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too,  
For they that were your Enemies, are his,  
And have prevailed as much on him, as you,  Hast. 
More pity, that the Eagles should be mewed,  
Whiles Kites and Buzzards play at liberty.  Rich. 
What news abroad?  Hast. 
No news so bad abroad, as this at home:  
The King is sickly, weak, and melancholy,  
And his Physicians fear him mightily.  Rich. 
Now by S. john, that 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  
Where is he, in his bed?  Hast. 
He is.  Rich. 
Go you before, and I will follow you.  Exit Hastings. 
He cannot live I hope, and must not dye,  
Till George be packed with post-horse up to Heaven.  
I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence,  
With Lies well steeled with weighty Arguments,  
And if I fail 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 killed 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 life's and reigns,  
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.  Exit  

Scena Secunda.  Enter the Coarse of Henry the sixth with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner. Anne. 
Set down, set down your honourable load,  
If Honour may be shrouded in a Hearse;  
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament  
Th' untimely fall of Virtuous Lancaster.  
Poor keycold 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 slaughtered Son,  
Stabbed 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.  
O cursed be the hand that made these holes:  
Cursed 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,  
Then I can wish to Wolves, to Spiders, Toads,  
Or any creeping venomed thing that life's.  
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 be made  
More miserable by the death of him,  
Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee.  
Come now towards Chertsey with your holy Lode,  
Taken from Paul's, to be interred there.  
And still as you are weary of this weight,  
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's Coarse.  Enter Richard Duke of Gloster. Rich. 
Stay you that bear the Coarse, & set it down.  An. 
What black Magician conjures up this Fiend,  
To stop devoted charitable deeds?  Rich. 
Villains set down the Coarse, or by S. Paul,  
I'll make a Coarse of him that disobeyes.  Gen. 
My Lord stand back, and let the Coffin pass.  Rich. 
Unmannered Dog,  
Standest thou when I command:  
Advance thy Halberd higher than my breast,  
Or by S. Paul I'll strike thee to my Foot,  
And spurn upon thee Beggar for thy boldness.  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.  Rich. 
Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so cursed.  An. 
Fowl Devil,  
For God's sake hence, and trouble us not,  
For thou hast made the happy earth thy Hell:  
Filled it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims:  
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,  
Behold this pattern of thy Butcheries.  
Oh Gentlemen, see, see dead Henry's wounds,  
Open their congealed mouths, and bleed afresh.  
Blush, blush, thou lump of fowl Deformity:  
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood  
From cold and empty Veins where no blood dwells.  
Thy Deeds inhuman and unnatural,  
Provokes this Deluge most unnatural.  
O God! which this Blood mad'st, revenge his death:  
O Earth! which this Blood drinkest, 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-gouerned arm hath butchered.  Rich. 
Lady, you know no Rules of Charity,  
Which renders good for bad, Blessings for Curses.  An. 
Villain, thou knowst nor law of God nor Man,  
No Beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.  Rich. 
But I know none, and therefore am no Beast.  An. 
O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!  Rich. 
More wonderful, when Angels are so angry:  
Vouchsafe (divine perfection of a Woman)  
Of these supposed Crimes, to give me leave  
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.  An. 
Vouchsafe (defused infection of man)  
Of these known evils, but to give me leave  
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed Self.  Rich. 
Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have  
Some patiented leisure to excuse myself.  An. 
Fouler than heart can think thee,  
Thou canst make no excuse currant,  
But to hang thyself.  Rich. 
By such despair, I should accuse myself.  An. 
And by despairing shalt thou stand excused,  
For doing worthy Vengeance on thyself,  
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.  Rich. 
Say that I slew them not.  An. 
Then say they were not slain:  
But dead they are, and devilish slave by thee.  Rich. 
I did not kill your Husband.  An. 
Why then he is alive.  Rich. 
Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward's hands.  An. 
In thy foul throat thou Liest,  
Queen Margaret saw  
Thy murderous Falchion smoking in his blood:  
The which, thou once didd'st bend against her breast,  
But that thy Brothers beat aside the point.  Rich. 
I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,  
That laid their guilt, upon my guiltless Shoulders.  An. 
Thou was't provoked by thy bloody mind,  
That never dreamest on aught but Butcheries:  
Didst thou not kill this King?  Rich. 
I grant ye.  An. 
Dost grant me Hedgehog,  
Then God grant me too  
Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed,  
O he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.  Rich. 
The better for the King of heaven that hath him.  An. 
He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.  Rich. 
Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither:  
For he was fit for that place then earth.  An. 
And thou unfit for any place, but hell.  Rich. 
Yes one place else, if you will hear me name it.  An. 
Some dungeon.  Rich. 
Your Bedchamber.  An. 
Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest.  Rich. 
So will it Madam, till I lie with you.  An. 
I hope so.  Rich. 
I know so. But gentle Lady Anne,  
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,  
And fall something into a slower method.  
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths  
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,  
As blameful as the Executioner.  An. 
Thou was't the cause, and most accursed effect.  Rich. 
Your beauty was the cause of that effect:  
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep,  
To undertake the death of all the world,  
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.  An. 
If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide,  
These Nails should rend that beauty from my Cheeks.  Rich. 
These eyes could not endure that beauty's wrack,  
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.  An. 
Black night o'ershade thy day, & death thy life.  Rich. 
Curse not thyself fair Creature,  
Thou art both.  An. 
I would I were, to be revenged on thee.  Rich. 
It is a quarrel most unnatural,  
To be revenged on him that loveth thee.  An. 
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,  
To be revenged on him that killed my Husband.  Rich. 
He that bereft the Lady of thy Husband,  
Did it to help thee to a better Husband.  An. 
His better doth not breath upon the earth.  Rich. 
He life's, that love's thee better than he could.  An. 
Name him.  Rich. 
Plantagenet.  An. 
Why that was he.  Rich. 
The selfsame name, but one of better Nature.  An. 
Where is he?  Rich. 
here:  Spits at him. 
Why dost thou spit at me.  An. 
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake.  Rich. 
Never came poison from so sweet a place.  An. 
Never hung poison on a fouler Toad.  
Out of my sight, thou dost infect mine eyes.  Rich. 
Thine eyes (sweet Lady) have infected mine.  An. 
Would they were Basilisks, to strike thee dead.  Rich. 
I would they were, that I might dye at once:  
For now they kill me with a living death.  
Those eyes of thine, from mine have drawn salt Tears;  
Shamed their Aspects with store of childish drops:  
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,  
No, when my Father York, and Edward wept,  
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made  
When black-faced Clifford shaken 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 bedashed 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 lip such Scorn; for it was made  
For kissing Lady, not for such contempt.  
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,  
Lo here I lend thee this sharpe-pointed Sword,  
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,  
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 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 stabbed young Edward,  
But 'twas thy Heavenly face that set me on.  She falls the Sword. 
Take up the Sword again, or take up me.  An. 
Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death,  
I will not be thy Executioner.  Rich. 
Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.  An. 
I have already.  Rich. 
That was in thy rage:  
Speak it again, and even with the word,  
This hand, which for thy love, did kill thy Love,  
Shall for thy love, kill a fare truer Love,  
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.  An. 
I would I knew thy heart.  Rich. 
'Tis figured in my tongue.  An. 
I fear me, both are false.  Rich. 
Then never Man was true.  An. 
Well, well, put up your Sword.  Rich. 
Say then my Peace is made.  An. 
That shalt thou know hereafter.  Rich. 
But shall I live in hope.  An. 
All men I hope live so.  
Vouchsafe to wear this Ring.  Rich. 
Look how my Ring incompasseth thy Finger,  
Even so thy Breast encloseth my poor heart:  
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.  
And if thy poor devoted Servant may  
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,  
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.  An. 
What is it?  Rich. 
That it may please you leave these sad designs,  
To him that hath most cause to be a Mourner,  
And presently repair to Crosby House:  
Where (after I have solemnly interred  
At Chertsey Monast'ry this Noble King,  
And wet his Grave with my Repentant Tears)  
I will with all expedient duty see you,  
For diverse unknown Reasons, I beseech you,  
Grant me this Boon.  An. 
With all my heart, and much it joys me too,  
To see you are become so penitent.  
Tressel and Barkley, go along with me.  Rich. 
Bid me farewell.  An. 
'Tis more than you deserve:  
But since you teach me how to flatter you,  
Imagine I have said farewell already.  Exit two with Anne. Gent. 
Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord?  Rich. 
No: to White Friars, there attend my coming  Exit Coarse 
Was ever woman in this humour wooed?  
Was ever woman in this humour won?  
I'll have her, but I will not keep her long.  
What? I that killed her Husband, and his Father,  
To take her in her hearts extremest hate,  
With curses in her mouth, Tears in her eyes,  
The bleeding witness of my hatred by,  
Having God, her Conscience, and these bars against me,  
And I, no Friends to back my suit withal,  
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)  
Stabbed 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 abase her eyes on me,  
That cropped the Golden prime of this sweet Prince,  
And made her Widow to a woeful Bed?  
On me, whose All not equal Edward's Moiety?  
On me, that halts, and am mishapen 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 maru'llous proper man.  
I'll be at Charges for a Looking-glass,  
And entertain a score or two of Tailors,  
To study fashions to adorn my body:  
Since I am crept in favour with myself,  
I will maintain it with some little cost.  
But first I'll turn you 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter the Queen Mother, Lord Rivers, and Lord Gray. Riu. 
Have patience Madam, there's no doubt his Majesty  
Will soon recover his accustomed health.  Gray. 
In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse,  
Therefore for God's sake entertain good comfort,  
And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes  Qu. 
If he were dead, what would betide on me?  Gray. 
No other harm, but loss of such a Lord.  Qu. 
The loss of such a Lord, includes all harms.  Gray. 
The Heavens have blessed you with a goodly Son,  
To be your Comforter, when he is gone.  Qu. 
Ah! he is young; and his minority  
Is put unto the trust of Richard Glouster,  
A man that love's not me, nor none of you.  Riu. 
Is it concluded he shall be Protector?  Qu. 
It is determined, not concluded yet:  
But so it must be, if the King miscarry.  Enter Buckingham and Derby. Gray. 
Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby.  Buc. 
Good time of day unto your Royal Grace.  Der. 
God make your Majesty joyful, as you have been  Qu. 
The Countess Richmond, good my L. of Derby.  
To your good prayer, will scarcely say, Amen.  
Yet Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife,  
And love's not me, be you good Lord assured,  
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.  Der. 
I do beseech you, either not believe  
The envious slanders of her false Accusers:  
Or if she be accused on true report,  
Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds  
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.  Qu. 
Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby.  Der. 
But now the Duke of Buckingham and I,  
Are come from visiting his Majesty.  Que. 
What likelihood of his amendment Lords.  Buc. 
Madam good hope, his Grace speaks cheerfully.  Qu. 
God grant him health, did you confer with him?  Buc. 
I Madam, he desires to make atonement▪  
Between the Duke of Glouster, and your Brothers,  
And between them, and my Lord Chamberlain,  
And sent to warn them to his Royal presence.  Qu. 
Would all were well, but that will never be,  
I fear our happiness is at the height.  Enter Richard. Rich. 
They do me wrong, and I will not endure it,  
Who is it that complains unto the King,  
Thar 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 look 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,  
With silken, sly, insinuating jacks?  Grey. 
To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?  Rich. 
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 Grace  
(Whom God preserve better than you would wish)  
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while,  
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.  Qu. 
Brother of Glouster, you mistake the matter:  
The King on his own Royal disposition,  
(And not provoked by any Suitor else)  
Aiming (belike) at your interior hatred,  
That in your outward action shows itself  
Against my Children, Brothers, and myself,  
Makes him to send, that he may learn the ground.  Rich. 
I cannot tell, the world is grown so bad,  
That Wrens make prey, where Eagles dare not perch.  
Since every jacke became a Gentleman,  
There's many a gentle person made a jacke.  Qu. 
Come, come, we know your meaning Brother Gloster  
You envy my advancement, and my friends:  
God grant we never may have need of you.  Rich. 
Mean time, God grants that I have need of you.  
Our Brother is imprisoned by your means,  
Myself disgraced, and the Nobility  
Held in contempt, while great Promotions  
Are daily given to ennoble those  
That scarce some two days since were worth a Noble.  Qu. 
By him that raised me to this careful height,  
From that contented hap which I enjoyed,  
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.  Rich! 
You may deny that you were not the mean  
Of my Lord Hastings late imprisonment.  Riu. 
She may my Lord, for—  Rich. 
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 desert.  
What may she not, she may, I marry may she.  Riu. 
What marry may she?  Ric. 
What marry may she? Marry with a King,  
A Bachelor, and a handsome stripling too,  
I wis your Grandam had a worse match.  Qu. 
My Lord of Glouster, I have too long borne  
Your blunt upbraid, and your bitter scoffs:  
By heaven, I will acquaint his Majesty  
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endured.  
I had rather be a Country servant maid  
Then a great Queen, with this condition,  
To be so baited, scorned, and stormed at,  
Small joy have I in being England's Queen.  Enter old Queen Margaret. Mar. 
And lessened be that small, God I beseech him,  
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.  Rich. 
What? threat you me with telling of the King?  
I will avouched in presence of the King:  
I dare adventure to be sent to th' Tower.  
'Tis time to speak,  
My pains are quite forgot.  Margaret. 
Out Devil,  
I do remember them too well:  
Thou killd'st my Husband Henry in the Tower,  
And Edward my poor Son, at Tewkesburie.  Rich. 
Ere you were Queen,  
I, or your Husband King:  
I was a packhorse in his great affairs:  
A weeder out of his proud Adversaries,  
A liberal rewarder of his Friends,  
To royalize his blood, I spent mine own.  Margaret. 
I and much better blood  
Than his, or thine.  Rich. 
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 Albon, slain?  
Let me put in your minds, if you forget  
What you have been ere this, and what you are:  
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.  Q.M. 
A murderous Villain, and so still thou art.  Rich. 
Poor Clarence did forsake his Father Warwick,  
I, and forswore himself (which jesus pardon.)  Q.M. 
Which God revenge.  Rich. 
To fight on Edward's party, for the Crown,  
And for his meed, poor Lord, he is mewed 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.  Q.M. 
High thee to Hell for shame, & leave this World  
Thou Cacodaemon, there thy Kingdom is.  Riu. 
My Lord of Gloster: in those busy days,  
Which here you urge, to prove us Enemies,  
We followed then our Lord, our Sovereign King,  
So should we you, if you should be our King.  Rich. 
If I should be? I had rather be a Pedlar:  
Fare be it from my heart, the thought thereof.  Qu. 
As little joy (my Lord) as you suppose  
You should enjoy, were you this Country's King,  
As little joy you may suppose in me,  
That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof.  Q.M. 
A little joy enjoys the Queen thereof,  
For I am she, and altogether joyless:  
I can no longer hold me patiented.  
Hear me, you wrangling Pirates, that fall out,  
In sharing that which you have peeled from me:  
Which off you trembles not, that looks on me?  
If not, that I am Queen, you bow like Subjects;  
Yet that by you deposed, you quake like Rebels.  
Ah gentle Villain, do not turn away.  Rich. 
Fowl wrinkled Witch, what makest thou in my sight?  Q.M. 
But repetition of what thou hast marred,  
That will I make, before I let thee go.  Rich. 
Wert thou not banished, on pain of death?  Q.M. 
I was: but I do find more pain in banishment,  
Then death can yield me here, by my abode.  
A Husband and a Son thou ow'st to me,  
And thou a Kingdom; all of you, allegiance:  
This Sorrow that I have, by right is yours,  
And all the Pleasures you usurp, are mine.  Rich. 
The Curse my Noble Father laid on thee,  
When thou didst Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper,  
And with thy scorns drewest Rivers from his eyes,  
And then to dry them, 'gainst the Duke a Clout,  
Steeped 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.  Qu. 
So just is God, to right the innocent.  Hast. 
O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that Babe,  
And the most merciless, that ere was heard of.  Riu. 
Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.  Dors. 
No man but prophesied revenge for it.  Buck. 
Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.  Q.M. 
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 woeful Banishment,  
Should 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.  
Though not by War, by Surfeit dye your King,  
As ours by Murder, to make him a King.  
Edward thy Son, that now is Prince of Wales,  
For Edward our Son, that 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 may'st thou live, to wail thy children's death,  
And see another, as I see thee now,  
Decked in thy Rights, as thou art stalled in mine.  
Long die thy happy days, before thy death,  
And after many lengthened 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 stabbed with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him,  
That none of you may live his natural age,  
But by some unlooked accident cut off.  Rich. 
Have done thy Charm, thou hateful withered Hag.  Q.M. 
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 while some tormenting Dream  
Affrights thee with a Hell of ugly Devils.  
Thou elvish marked, abortive rooting Hog,  
Thou that wast sealed in thy Nativity  
The slave of Nature, and the Son of Hell:  
Thou slander of thy heavy Mother's Womb,  
Thou loathed Issue of thy Father's Loins,  
Thou Rag of Honour, thou detested—  Rich. 
Margaret.  Q.M. 
Richard.  Rich. 
Ha.  Q.M. 
I call thee not.  Rich. 
I cry thee mercy then: for I did think,  
That thou hadst called me all these bitter names.  Q.M. 
Why so I did, but looked for no reply.  
Oh let me make the Period to my Curse.  Rich. 
'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.  Qu. 
Thus have you breathed your Curse against yourself.  Q.M. 
Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune,  
Why strewest thou Sugar on that Botteled Spider,  
Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee about?  
Fool, fool, thou whettest a Knife to kill thyself:  
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me,  
To help thee curse this poisonous Bunch-backed Toad.  Hast. 
False boding Woman, end thy frantic Curse,  
Lest to thy harm, thou move our patience.  Q.M. 
Fowl shame upon you, you have all moved mine.  Ri. 
Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.  Q. M 
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.  Dors. 
Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.  Q.M. 
Peace Master marquis, you are malapert,  
Your firenew stamp of Honour is scarce currant.  
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.  Rich. 
Good counsel marry, learn it, learn it marquis.  Dor. 
It touches you my Lord, as much as me.  Rich. 
I, and much more: but I, was borne so high:  
Our airy buildeth in the Cedar's top,  
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the Sun.  Mar. 
And turns the Sun to shade: alas, alas,  
Witness my Son, now in the shade of death,  
Whose bright outshining beams, thy cloudy wrath  
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.  
Your eyrie buildeth in our ayeries Nest:  
O God that seest it, do not suffer it,  
As it is won with blood, lost be it so.  Buc. 
Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity.  Mar. 
Urge neither charity, nor shame to me:  
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,  
And shamefully my hopes (by you) are butchered.  
My Charity is outrage, Life my shame,  
And in that shame, still live my sorrow's rage.  Buc. 
Have done, have done.  Mar. 
O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand,  
In sign of League and amity with thee:  
Now fair befall thee, and thy Noble house:  
Thy Garments are not spotted with our blood:  
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.  Buc. 
Nor no one here: for Curses never pass  
The lips of those that breath them in the air.  Mar. 
I will not think but they ascend the sky,  
And there awake Gods 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.  Rich. 
What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham.  Buc. 
Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord.  Mar. 
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 Gods.  Exit. Buc. 
My hair doth stand an end to hear her curses.  Riu. 
And so doth mine, I muse why she's at liberty.  Rich. 
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.  Mar. 
I never did her any to my knowledge.  Rich. 
Yet 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 franked up to fatting for his pains,  
God pardon them, that are the cause thereof.  Riu. 
A virtuous, and a Christianlike conclusion  
To pray for them that have done scathe to us.  Rich. 
So do I ever, being well advised.  Speaks to himself. 
For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.  Enter Catesby. Cates. 
Madam, his Majesty doth call for you,  
And for your Grace, and yours my gracious Lord.  Qu. 
Catesby I come, Lords will you go with me.  Riu. 
We wait upon your Grace.  Exeunt all but Gloster. Rich. 
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, who I indeed have cast in darkness,  
I do beweep to many simple Gulls,  
Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham,  
And tell them 'tis 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, Dorset, Grey.  
But then I sigh, and with a piece of Scripture,  
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:  
And thus I cloth my naked Villainy  
With odd old ends, stolen forth 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 thing?  Vil. 
We are my Lord, and come to have the Warrant,  
That we may be admitted where he is.  Ric. 
Well thought upon, I have it hear about me:  
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.  Vil. 
Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate,  
Talkers are no good doers, be assured:  
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.  Rich. 
Your eyes drop Millstones, when Fools eyes fall Tears:  
I like you Lads, about your business strait.  
Go, go, dispatch.  Vil. 
We will my Noble Lord.   

Scena Quarta.  Enter Clarence and Keeper. Keep. 
Why looks your Grace so heavily to day.  Cla. 
O, I have passed a miserable night,  
So full of fearful Dreams, of ugly sights,  
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.  Keep. 
What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tell me  Cla. 
Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower,  
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy,  
And in my company my Brother Glouster,  
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walk,  
Upon the Hatches: There we looked toward England,  
And cited up a thousand heavy times,  
During the wars of York and Lancaster  
That had befallen us. As we paced along  
Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches,  
Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling  
Struck me (that thought to stay him) overboard,  
Into the tumbling billows of the main.  
O Lord, me thought what pain it was to drown,  
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears,  
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes.  
Me thoughts, I saw a thousand fearful wracks:  
A thousand men that Fishes gnawed upon:  
Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heaps of Pearl,  
Inestimable Stones, unvalewed jewels,  
All scattered in the bottom of the Sea,  
Some lay in dead-men's Skulls, and in the holes  
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept  
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting Gems,  
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,  
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.  Keep. 
Had you such leisure in the time of death  
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?  Cla. 
Me thought I had, and often did I strive  
To yield the Ghost: but still the envious Flood  
Stopped in my soul, and would not let it forth  
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air:  
But smothered it within my panting bulk,  
Who almost burst, to belch it in the Sea.  Keep. 
Awaked you not in this sore Agony?  Clar. 
No, no, my Dream was lengthened after life.  
O then, began the Tempest to my Soul▪  
I passed (me thought) the Melancholy Flood,  
With that sour Ferryman which Poets writ of,  
Unto the Kingdom of perpetual Night.  
The first that there did greet my Stranger-soule,  
Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwick,  
Who spoke aloud: What scourge for Perjury,  
Can this dark Monarchy afford false Clarence?  
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by,  
A Shadow like an Angel, with bright hair  
Dabbeled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud  
Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,  
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury:  
Seize on him Furies, take him unto Torment.  
With that (me thought) a Legion of foul Fiends  
Environed me, and howled in mine ears  
Such hideous cries, that with the very Noise,  
I (trembling) waked, and for a season after,  
Can not believe, but that I was in Hell,  
Such terrible Impression made my Dream.  Keep. 
No marvel Lord, though it affrighted you,  
I am afraid (me thinks) to hear you tell it.  Cla. 
Ah Keeper, Keeper, I have done these things  
(That now give evidence against my Soul)  
For Edward's sake, and see how he requits 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.  
Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile,  
My Soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.  Keep. 
I will my Lord, God give your Grace good rest.  Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant. Bra. 
Sorrow breaks Seasons, and reposing hours,  
Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night:  
Princes have but their Titles for their Glories,  
An outward Honour, for an inward Toil,  
And for unfelt Imaginations  
They often feel a world of restless Cares:  
So that between their Titles, and low Name,  
There's nothing differs, but the outward fame.  Enter two Murderers. 1. Mur. 
Ho, who's here?  Bra. 
What wouldst thou Fellow? And how camm'st thou hither.  2. Mur. 
I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legs.  Bra. 
What so brief?  1. 
'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious:  
Let him see our Commission, and talk no more.  Reads Bra. 
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 from the meaning.  
There lies the Duke asleep, and there the Keys.  
I'll to the King, and signify to him,  
That thus I have resigned to you my charge.  Exit. 1 
You may sir, 'tis a point of wisdom:  
Far you well.  2 
What, shall we stab him as he sleeps.  1 
No: he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes  2 
Why he shall never wake, until the great judgement day.  1 
Why then he'll say, we stabbed him sleeping.  2 
The urging of that word judgement, hath bred a kind of remorse in me.  1 
What? art thou afraid?  2 
Not to kill him, having a Warrant,  
But to be damned for killing him, from the which  
No Warrant can defend me.  1 
I thought thou hadst been resolute.  2 
So I am, to let him live.  1 
I'll back to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so.  2 
Nay, I prithee stay a little:  
I hope this passionate humour of mine, will change,  
It was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty.  1 
How dost thou feel thyself now?  2 
Some certain dregges of conscience are yet within me.  1 
Remember our Reward, when the deed's done.  2 
Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward.  1 
Where's thy conscience now.  2 
O, in the Duke of Glousters' purse.  1 
When he opens his purse to give us our Reward, thy Conscience flies out.  2 
'Tis no matter, let it go: There's few or none will entertain it.  1 
What if it come to thee again?  2 
I'll not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward: A man cannot steal, but it accuseth him: A man cannot Swear, but it Cheques him: A man cannot lie with his Neighbour's Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shamefaced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom: It fills a man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a Purse of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggar's any man that keeps it: It is turned out of Towns and Cities for a dangerous thing, and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.  1 
'Tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the Dkue.  2 
Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not:  
He would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.  1 
I am strong framed, he cannot prevail with me.  2 
Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation.  
Come, shall we fall to work?  1 
Take him on the Costard, with the hilts of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in the next room.  2 
O excellent device; and make a sop of him.  1 
Soft, he wakes.  2 
Strike.  1 
No, we'll reason with him.  Cla. 
Where art thou Keeper? Give me a cup of wine.  2 
You shall have Wine enough my Lord anon.  Cla. 
In God's name, what art thou?  1 
A man, as you are.  Cla. 
But not as I am Royal.  1 
Nor you as we are, loyal.  Cla. 
Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble.  1 
My voice is now the Kings, my looks mine own.  Cla. 
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?  2 
To, to, to—  Cla. 
To murder me?  Both. 
I, I  Cla. 
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?  1 
Offended us you have not, but the King.  Cla. 
I shall be reconciled to him again.  2 
Never my Lord, therefore prepare to dye.  Cla. 
Are you drawn forth among a world of men  
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?  
Where is the Evidence that doth 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 for any goodness,  
That you depart, and lay no hands on me:  
The deed you undertake is damnable.  1 
What we will do, we do upon command.  2 
And he that hath commanded, is our King.  Cla. 
Erroneous Vassals, the great King of Kings  
Hath in the Table of his Law commanded  
That thou shalt do no murder. Will you then  
Spurn at his Edict, and fulfil a Man's?  
Take heed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand,  
To hurl upon their heads that break his Law.  2 
And that same Vengeance doth he hurl on thee,  
For false Forswearing, and for murder too:  
Thou didst receive the Sacrament, to fight  
In quarrel of the House of Lancaster.  1 
And like a Traitor to the name of God,  
Didst break that Vow, and with thy treacherous blade,  
Vnrip'st the Bowels of thy Sovereign's Son.  2 
Whom thou was't sworn to cherish and defend.  1 
How canst thou urge God's dreadful Law to us,  
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?  Cla. 
Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?  
For Edward, for my Brother, for his sake.  
He sends you not to murder me for this:  
For in that sin, he is as deep as I.  
If God will be avenged for the deed,  
O know you yet, he doth it publicly,  
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm:  
He needs no indirect, or lawless course,  
To cut off those that have offended him.  1 
Who made thee then a bloody minister,  
When gallant springing brave Plantagenet,  
That Princely Novice was struck dead by thee?  Cla. 
My Brother's love, the Devil, and my Rage.  1 
Thy Brother's Love, our Duty, and thy Faults,  
Provoke us hither now, to slaughter thee.  Cla. 
If you do love my Brother, hate not me:  
I am his Brother, and I love him well.  
If you are hired for meed; go back again,  
And I will send you to my Brother Glouster:  
Who shall reward you better for my life,  
Then Edward will for tidings of my death.  2 
You are deceived,  
Your Brother Glouster hates you.  Cla. 
Oh no, he love's me, and he holds me dear;  
Go you to him from me.  1 
I so we will.  Cla. 
Tell him, when that our Princely Father York,  
Blessed his three Sons with his victorious Arm,  
He little thought of this divided Friendship:  
Bid Glouster think on this, and he will weep.  1 
I Millstones, as he lessoned us to weep.  Cla. 
O do not slander him, for he is kind.  1 
Right, as Snow in Harvest:  
Come, you deceive yourself,  
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.  Cla. 
It cannot be, for he be wept my Fortune,  
And hugged me in his arms, and swore with sobs,  
That he would labour my delivery.  1 
Why so he doth, when he delivers you  
From this earth's thraldom, to the joys of heaven.  2 
Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord.  Cla. 
Have you that holy feeling in your souls,  
To counsel me to make my peace with God,  
And are you yet to your own souls so blind,  
That you will war with God, by murdering me.  
O sirs consider, they that set you on  
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.  2 
What shall we do?  Clar. 
Relent, and save your souls:  
Which of you, if you were a Prince's Son,  
Being penned from Liberty, as I am now,  
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,  
Would not entreat for life, as you would beg  
Were you in my distress.  1 
Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish.  Cla. 
Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish:  
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,  
A begging Prince, what beggar pities not.  2 
Look behind you, my Lord.  1 
Take that, and that, if all this will not do,  Stabs him. 
I'll drown you in the Malmesey-But within.  Exit. 2 
A bloody deed, and desperately dispatched:  
How fain (like Pilate) would I wash my hands  
Of this most grievous murder.  Enter 1. Murderer 1 
How now? what meanest thou that thou helpest me not? By Heaven the Duke shall know how slack you have been.  2. Mur. 
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. 1. Mur. 
So do not I: go Coward as thou art.  
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,  
Till that the Duke give order for his burial:  
And when I have my meed, I will away,  
For this will out, and then I must not stay.  Exit   

Actus Secundus.  

Scoena Prima.  Flourish. Enter the King sick, the Queen, Lord marquis Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Catesby, Buckingham, Wooduill. King. 
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 more to peace my soul shall part to heaven,  
Since I have made my Friends at peace on earth.  
Dorset and Rivers, take each others hand,  
Dissemble not your hatred, Swear your love.  Kin. 
By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging hate  
And with my hand I seal my true hearts Love..  Hast. 
So thrive I, as I truly swear the like.  King. 
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 others end.  Hast. 
So prosper I, as I swear perfect love.  Ri. 
And I, as I love Hastings with my heart,  King. 
Madam, yourself is not exempt from this:  
Nor you 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.  Qu. 
There Hastings, I will never more remember  
Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine.  King. 
Dorset, embrace him:  
Hastings, love Lord marquis.  Dor. 
This interchange of love, I here protest  
Upon my part, shall be inviolable.  Hast. 
And so swear I  King. 
Now Princely Buckingham, seal thou this league  
With thy embracements to my wife's Allies,  
And make me happy in your unity.  Buc. 
When ever Buckingham doth turn his hate  
Upon your Grace, 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 heaven,  
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours.  Embrace King. 
A pleasing Cordial, Princely Buckingham  
Is this thy Vow, unto my sickly heart:  
There wanteth now our Brother Gloster here,  
To make the blessed period of this peace.  Buc. 
And in good time,  
here comes Sir Richard Ratcliff, and the Duke.  Enter Ratcliffe, and Gloster. Rich. 
Good morrow to my Sovereign King & Queen  
And Princely Peers, a happy time of day.  King, 
Happy indeed, as we have spent the day:  
Gloster, we have done deeds of Charity,  
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,  
Between these swelling wrong incensed Peers.  Rich. 
A blessed labour my most Sovereign Lord:  
Among this Princely heap, if any here  
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise  
Hold me a Foe: If I unwillingly, or in my rage,  
Have aught committed that is hardly borne,  
To 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 and you, Lord Rivers and of Dorset,  
That all without desert have frowned on me:  
Of you Lord Wooduill, and Lord Scales of you,  
Duke's, 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 borne to night:  
I thank my God for my Humility.  Qu. 
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:  
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.  
My Sovereign Lord, I do beseech your Highness  
To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace.  Rich. 
Why Madam, have I offered love for this,  
To be so flouted in this Royal presence?  
Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead?  They all start. 
You do him injury to scorn his Coarse.  King. 
Who knows not he is dead?  
Who knows he is?  Qu. 
Allseeing heaven, what a world is this?  Buc. 
Look I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest?  Dor. 
I my good Lord, and no man in the presence,  
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.  King. 
Is Clarence dead? The Order was reversed.  Rich. 
But he (poor man) 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,  
Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,  
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,  
And yet go currant from Suspicion.  Enter Earl of Derby. Der. 
A boon my Sovereign for my service done.  King. 
I prithee peace, my soul is full of sorrow.  Der. 
I will not rise, unless your Highness hear me.  King. 
Then say at once, what is it thou requests.  Der. 
The forfeit (Sovereign) of my servant's life,  
Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman,  
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.  King. 
Have I a tongue to doom my Brother's death?  
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?  
My Brother killed no man, his fault was Thought,  
And yet his punishment was bitter death.  
Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath)  
Kneeled and my feet, and bid me be advised?  
Who spoke of Brotherhood? who spoke 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 at 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 Garments, and did give himself  
(All thin and naked) to the numb cold night?  
All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath  
Sinfully plucked, 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 strait 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 beg 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.  
Ah poor Clarence.  Exeunt some with K. & Queen. Rich. 
This is the fruits of rashness: Marked you not,  
How that the guilty Kindred of the Queen  
Looked pale, when they did hear of Clarence death.  
O! they did urge it still unto the King,  
God will revenge it. Come Lords will you go,  
To comfort Edward with our company.  Buc. 
We wait upon your Grace.  exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter the old Duchess of York, with the two children of Clarence. Edw. 
Good Grandam tell us, is our Father dead?  Dutch. 
No Boy.  Daugh. 
Why do weep so oft? And beat your Breast?  
And cry, O Clarence, my unhappy Son.  Boy. 
Why do you look on us, and shake your head,  
And call us Orphans, Wretches, castaways,  
If that our Noble Father were alive?  Dut. 
My pretty Cousins, you mistake me both,  
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 you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead:  
The King mine Uncle is too blame for it.  
God will revenge it, whom I will importune  
With earnest prayers, all to that effect.  Daugh. 
And so will I.  Dut. 
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 Gloster  
Told me, the King provoked to it by the Queen,  
Devised impeachments to imprison him;  
And when my Uncle told me so, he wept,  
And pitied me, and kindly kissed my cheek:  
Bade me rely on him, as on my Father,  
And he would love me dearly as a child.  Dut. 
Ah! that Deceit should steal such gentle shape,  
And with a virtuous Vizor hide deep vice,  
He is my son, I, and therein my shame,  
Yet from my dugs, he drew not this deceit.  Boy. 
Think you my Uncle did dissemble Grandam?  Dut. 
I Boy.  Boy. 
I cannot think it. Hark, what noise is this?  Enter the Queen with her hair about her ears, Rivers & Dorset after her. Qu. 
Ah! 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.  Dut. 
What means this Scene of rude impatience?  Qu. 
To make an act of Tragic violence.  
Edward my Lord, thy Son, our King is dead.  
Why grow the Branches, when the Root is gone?  
Why whither not the leaves that want their sap?  
If you will live, Lament: if die, be brief,  
That our swift-winged Souls may catch the Kings,  
Or like obedient Subjects follow him,  
To his new Kingdom of nere-changing night.  Dut. 
Ah so much interest have in thy sorrow,  
As I had Title in thy Noble Husband:  
I have be wept a worthy Husband's death,  
And lived with looking on his Images:  
But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance,  
Are cracked in pieces, by malignant death,  
And I for comfort, have but one false Glass,  
That 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,  
But death hath snatched my Husband from mine Arms,  
And plucked two Crutches from my feeble hands,  
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have I,  
(Thine being but a moiety of my moan)  
To over-go thy woes, and drown thy cries.  Boy. 
Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Father's death:  
How can we aid you with our Kindred tears?  Daugh. 
Our fatherless distress was left vnmoaned,  
Your widdow-dolour, likewise be unwept.  Qu. 
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 governed by the watery Moon,  
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the World.  
Ah, for my Husband, for my dear Lord Edward.  Chil. 
Ah for our Father, for our dear Lord Clarence.  Dut. 
Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence.  Qu. 
What stay had I but Edward, and he's gone?  Chil. 
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.  Dut. 
What stays had I, but they? and they are gone.  Qu. 
Was never widow had so dear a loss.  Chil. 
Were never Orphans had so dear a loss.  Dut. 
Was never Mother had so dear a loss.  
Alas! I am the Mother of these Griefs▪  
Their woes are parceled, mine is general.  
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I:  
I for a Clarence weeps, so doth not she:  
These Babes for Clarence weep, so do not they.  
Alas! you three, on me threefold distressed:  
Power all your tears, I am your sorrow's Nurse,  
And I will pamper it with Lamentation.  Dor. 
Comfort dear Mother, God is much displeased,  
That you take with unthankfulness his doing.  
In common worldly things, 'tis called ungrateful,  
With dull unwillingness 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 strait for him,  
Let him be Crowned, in him your comfort life's.  
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,  
And plant your joys in living Edward's Throne.  Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe. Rich. 
Sister have comfort, all of us have cause  
To wail the dimming of our shining Star:  
But none can help our 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.  Dut. 
God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast,  
Love Charity, Obedience, and true Duty.  Rich. 
Amen, and make me die a good old man,  
That is the butt-end of a Mother's blessing;  
I marvel that her Grace did leave it out.  Buc. 
You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres▪  
That bear this heavy mutual load of Moan,  
Now cheer each other, in each others 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-swollen hates,  
But lately splintered, knit, and joined together,  
Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept:  
Me seemeth good, that with some little Train,  
Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set  
Hither to London, to be crowned our King.  Rivers. 
Why with some little Train,  
My Lord of Buckingham?  Buc. 
Marry my Lord, lest by a multitude,  
The new-healed wound of Malice should break out,  
Which would be so much the more dangerous,  
By how much the estate is green, and yet ungoverned.  
Where every Horse bears his commanding Rhine,  
And may direct his course as please himself,  
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,  
In my opinion, aught to be prevented.  Rich. 
I hope the King made peace with all of us,  
And the compact is firm, and true in me.  Riu. 
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▪  Hast. 
And so say I  Rich. 
Then be it so, and go we to determine  
Who they shall be that straight shall post to London.  
Madam, and you my Sister, will you go  
To give your censures in this business.  Exeunt. Manet Buckingham, and Richard. Buc. 
My Lord, who ever journeys to the Prince,  
For God sake let not us two stay at home:  
For by the way, I'll sort occasion,  
As Index to the story we late talked of,  
To part the Queen's proud Kindred from the Prince.  Rich. 
My other self, my Counsels Consistory,  
My Oracle, My Prophet, my dear Cousin,  
I, as a child, will go by thy direction,  
Toward London then, for we'll not stay behind.  Exeunt  

Scena Tertia.  Enter one Citizen at one door, and another at the other. 1▪ Cit 
Good morrow Neighbour, whether away so fast?  2. Cit 
I promise you, I scarcely know myself:  
Hear you the news abroad?  1. 
Yes, that the King is dead.  2. 
Ill news byrlady, seldom comes the better:  
I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world.  Enter another Citizen. 3. 
Neighbours, God speed.  1. 
Give you good morrow sir.  3. 
Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death?  2. 
I sir, it is too true, God help the while.  3. 
Then Masters look to see a troublous world.  1. 
No, no, by God's good grace, his Son shall reign.  3. 
Woe to that Land that's governed by a Child.  2. 
In him there is a hope of Government,  
Which in his nonage, counsel under him,  
And in his full and ripened years, himself  
No doubt shall then, and till then govern well.  1. 
So stood the State, when Henry the sixth  
Was crowned in Paris, but at nine months old.  3. 
Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wots  
For then this Land was famously enriched  
With politic grave Counsel; then the King  
Had virtuous Uncles to protect his Grace.  1. 
Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother.  3. 
Better it were they all came by his Father:  
Or by his Father there were none at all:  
For emulation, who shall now be nearest,  
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.  
O full of danger is the Duke of Glouster,  
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.  1. 
Come, come, we fear the worst: all will be well.  3. 
When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their cloaks;  
When great leaves fall, than Winter is at hand;  
When the Sun sets, who doth not look for night?  
Untimely storms, makes men expect a Dearth:  
All may be well; but if God sort it so,  
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.  2. 
Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear:  
You cannot reason (almost) with a man,  
That looks not heavily, and full of dread.  3. 
Before the days of Change, still is it so,  
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust  
Pursuing danger: as by proof we see  
The Water swell before a boisterous storm:  
But leave it all to God. Whither away?  2 
Marry we were sent for to the justices.  3 
And so was I: I'll bear you company.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Archbishop, young York, the Queen, and the Duchess. Arch. 
Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,  
And at Northampton they do rest to night:  
To morrow, or next day, they will be here.  Dut. 
I long with all my heart to see the Prince:  
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.  Qu. 
But I hear no, they say my son of York  
Has almost overta'en him in his growth.  York. 
I Mother, but I would not have it so.  Dut. 
Why my good Cousin, it is good to grow.  Yor. 
Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper,  
My Uncle Rivers talked how I did grow  
More than my Brother. I, quoth my Uncle Glouster,  
Small Herbs have grace, great Weeds do grow apace.  
And since, me thinks I would not grow so fast,  
Because sweet Flowers are slow, and Weeds make haste.  Dut. 
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 his rule were true, he should be gracious.  Yor. 
And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam.  Dut. 
I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.  Yor. 
Now by my troth, if I had been remembered,  
I could have given my Uncle's Grace, a flout,  
To touch his growth, nearer than he touched mine.  Dut. 
How my young York,  
I prithee let me hear it.  Yor. 
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.  Dut. 
I prithee pretty York, who told thee this?  Yor. 
Grandam, his Nurse.  Dut. 
His Nurse? why she was dead, ere thou waste borne.  Yor. 
If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.  Qu. 
A perilous Boy: go too, you are too shrewd.  Dut. 
Good Madam, be not angry with the Child.  Qu. 
Pitchers have ears.  Enter a Messenger. Arch. 
here comes a Messenger: What News?  Mes. 
Such news my Lord, as grieves me to report.  Qu. 
How doth the Prince?  Mes. 
Well Madam, and in health.  Dut. 
What is thy News?  Mess. 
Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey,  
Are sent to Pomfret, and with them,  
Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoner's.  Dut. 
Who hath committed them?  Mes. 
The mighty Dukes, Glouster and Buckingham.  Arch. 
For what offence?  Mes. 
The sum of all I can, I have disclosed:  
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,  
Is all unknown to me, my gracious Lord.  Qu. 
Ay me! I see the ruin of my House:  
The Tiger now hath seized the gentle Hind,  
Insulting Tyranny begins to jutt  
Upon the innocent and awelesse Throne:  
Welcome Destruction, Blood, and Massacre,  
I see (as in a Map) the end of all.  Dut. 
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 tossed  
For me to joy, and weep, their gain and loss.  
And being seated, and Domestic broils  
Clean overblown, themselves the Conquerors,  
Make war upon themselves, Brother to Brother;  
Blood to blood, self against self: O prepostorous  
And frantic outrage, ●nd thy damned spleen,  
Or let me dye, to look on earth no more.  Qu. 
Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary▪  
Madam, farewell.  Dut. 
Stay, I will go with you.  Qu. 
You have no cause.  Arch. 
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.  
Go, I'll conduct you to the Sanctuary.  Exeunt   

Actus Tertius.  

Scoena Prima.  The Trumpet's sound. Enter young Prince, the Dukes of Gloucester, and Buckingham, Lord Cardinal, with others. Buc. 
Welcome sweet Prince to London,  
To your Chamber.  Rich. 
Welcome dear Cousin, my thoughts Sovereign  
The weary way hath made you Melancholy.  Prin. 
No Uncle, but our crosses on the way,  
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy.  
I want more Uncles here to welcome me.  Rich. 
Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your years  
Hath not yet dived into the World's deceit:  
No more can you distinguish of a man,  
Then 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 Sugared words,  
But looked not on the poison of their hearts:  
God keep you from them, and from such false Friends.  Prin. 
God keep me from false Friends,  
But they were none.  Rich. 
My Lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you.  Enter Lord Maior. Lo. Mayor. 
God bless your Grace, with health and happy days.  Prin. 
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 Lord Hastings. Buck. 
And in good time, here comes the sweeting Lord.  Prince. 
Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother come?  Hast. 
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.  Buck. 
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.  Card. 
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 forbidden  
We should infringe the holy Privilege  
Of blessed Sanctuary: not for all this Land,  
Would I be guilty of so great a sin.  Buck. 
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 claimed 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.  Card. 
My Lord, you shall o'errule my mind for once.  
Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?  Hast. 
I go, my Lord.  Exit Cardinal and Hastings. Prince. 
Good Lords, make all the speedy haste you may.  
Say, Uncle Gloucester, if our Brother come,  
Where shall we sojourn, till our Coronation?  Glo. 
Where it thinkest 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. 
I do not like the Tower, of any place:  
Did julius Caesar build that place, my Lord?  Buck. 
He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place,  
Which since, succeeding Ages have re-edifyed.  Prince. 
Is it upon record? or else reported  
Successively from age to age, he built it?  Buck. 
Upon record, my gracious Lord.  Prince. 
But say, my Lord, it were not registered,  
Me thinks the truth should live from age to age,  
As 'twere retailed to all posterity,  
Even to the general ending day.  Glo. 
So wise, so young, they say do never live long.  Prince. 
What say you, Uncle?  Glo. 
I say, without Characters, Fame life's long.  
Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity,  
I moralize two meanings in one word.  Prince. 
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 his Conqueror,  
For now he life's in Fame, though not in Life.  
I'll tell you what, my Cousin Buckingham.  Buck. 
What, my gracious Lord?  Prince. 
And if I live until I be a man,  
I'll win our ancient Right in France again,  
Or dye a Soldier, as I lived a King.  Glo. 
Short Summers lightly have a forward Spring.  Enter young York, Hastings, and Cardinal. Buck. 
Now in good time, here comes the Duke of York.  Prince. 
Richard of York, how fares our Noble Brother?  York. 
Well, my dear Lord, so must I call you now.  Prince. 
I, 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.  Glo. 
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 fare.  Glo. 
He hath, my Lord.  York. 
And therefore is he idle?  Glo. 
Oh my fair Cousin, I must not say so.  York. 
Then he is more beholding to you, than I.  Glo. 
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.  Glo. 
My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart.  Prince. 
A Beggar, Brother?  York. 
Of my kind Uncle, that I know will give,  
And being but a Toy, which is no grief to give.  Glo. 
A greater gift than that, I'll give my Cousin.  York. 
A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it.  Glo. 
I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough.  York. 
O than I see, you will part but with light gifts,  
In weightier things you'll say a Beggar nay.  Glo. 
It is too weighty for your Grace to wear.  York. 
I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.  Glo. 
What, would you have my Weapon, little Lord?  York. 
I would that I might thank you, as, as, you call me.  Glo. 
How?  York. 
Little.  Prince. 
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.  Buck. 
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.  Glo. 
My Lord, wilt 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. 
My Lord Protector will have it so.  York. 
I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.  Glo. 
Why, what should you fear?  York. 
Marry, my Uncle Clarence angry Ghost:  
My Grandam told me he was murdered there.  Prince. 
I fear no Uncles dead.  Glo. 
Nor none that live, I hope.  Prince. 
And 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 Senet. Exeunt Prince, York, Hastings, and Dorset. Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby. Buck. 
Think you, my Lord, this little prating York  
Was not incensed by his subtle Mother,  
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?  Glo. 
No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perilous Boy,  
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable:  
He is all the Mothers, from the top to toe.  Buck. 
Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby,  
Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intent,  
As closely to conceal what we impart:  
Thou knowst our reasons urged upon the way.  
What thinkest 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?  Cates. 
He for his father's sake so love's the Prince,  
That he will not be won to aught against him.  Buck. 
What thinkest thou then of Stanley? Will not he?  Cates. 
He will do all in all as Hastings doth.  Buck. 
Well then, no more but this:  
Go gentle Catesby, and as it were fare off,  
Sound thou Lord Hastings,  
How he doth 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 tell him all our reasons:  
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,  
Be thou so too, and so break off the talk,  
And give us notice of his inclination:  
For we to morrow hold divided Counsels,  
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employed.  Rich. 
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 Lord, for joy of this good news,  
Give Mistress Shore one gentle Kiss the more.  Buck. 
Good Catesby, go effect this business sound.  Cates. 
My good Lords both, with all the heed I can.  Rich. 
Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?  Cates. 
You shall, my Lord.  Rich. 
At Crosby House, there shall you find us both.  Exit Catesby. Buck. 
Now, my Lord,  
What shall we do, if we perceive  
Lord Hastings will not yield to our Complots?  Rich. 
Chop off his Head:  
Something we will determine:  
And look when I am King, claim thou of me  
The Earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables  
Whereof the King, my Brother, was possessed.  Buck. 
I'll claim that promise at your Grace's hand.  Rich. 
And look to have it yielded with all kindness▪  
Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards  
We may digest our complots in some form.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter a Messenger to the Door of Hastings. Mess. 
My Lord, my Lord.  Hast. 
Who knocks?  Mess. 
One from the Lord Stanley.  Hast. 
What is't a Clock?  Mess. 
Upon the stroke of four.  Enter Lord Hastings. Hast. 
Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious Nights?  Mess. 
So it appears, by that I have to say:  
First, he commends him to your Noble self.  Hast. 
What then?  Mess. 
Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night  
He dreamt, the Boar had razed off his Helm:  
Besides, he says there are two Counsels kept;  
And that may be determined at the one,  
Which may make you and him to rue at th' other.  
Therefore he sends to know your Lordship's pleasure,  
If you will presently take Horse with him,  
And with all speed post with him toward the North,  
To shun the danger that his Soul divines.  Hast. 
Go fellow, go, return unto thy Lord,  
Bid him not fear the separated Council:  
His Honour and myself are at the one,  
And at the other, is my good friend Catesby;  
Where nothing can proceed, that toucheth us,  
Whereof I shall not have intelligence:  
Tell him his Fears are shallow, without instance.  
And for his Dreams, I wonder he's so simple,  
To trust the mock'ry 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.  Mess. 
I'll go, my Lord, and tell him what you say.  Exit. Enter Catesby. Cates. 
Many good morrows to my Noble Lord.  Hast. 
Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring:  
What news, what news, in this our tottering State?  Cates. 
It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord:  
And I believe will never stand upright,  
Till Richard wear the Garland of the Realm.  Hast. 
How wear the Garland?  
Dost thou mean the Crown?  Cates. 
I, my good Lord.  Hast. 
I'll have this Crown of mine cut from my shoulders,  
Before I'll see the Crown so foul misplaced:  
But canst thou guess, that he doth aim at it?  Cates. 
I, on my life, and hopes to find you 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 dye at Pomfret.  Hast. 
Indeed I am no mourner for that news,  
Because they have been still my adversaries:  
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.  Cates. 
God keep your Lordship in that gracious mind.  Hast. 
But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth hence,  
That they which brought me in my Master's hate,  
I live to look upon their Tragedy.  
Well Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,  
I'll send some packing, that yet think not on't.  Cates. 
'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord,  
When men are unprepared, and look not for it.  Hast. 
O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out  
With Rivers Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do  
With some men else, that think themselves as safe  
As thou and I, who (as thou knowst) are dear  
To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham.  Cates. 
The Princes both make high account of you,  
For they account his Head upon the Bridge.  Hast. 
I know they do, and I have well deserved it.  Enter Lord Stanley. 
Come on, come on, where is your Boar-spear man?  
Fear you the Boar, and go so unprovided?  Stan. 
My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby:  
You may jest on, but by the holy Rood,  
I do not like these several Counsels, I.  Hast. 
My Lord, I hold my Life as dear as yours,  
And never in my days, I do protest,  
Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now:  
Think you, but that I know our state secure,  
I would be so triumphant as I am?  Sta. 
The Lords at Pomfret▪ when they road from London,  
Were jocund, and supposed their states were sure,  
And they indeed had no cause to mistrust:  
But yet you see, how soon the Day o'ercast.  
This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt:  
Pray God (I say) I prove a needless Coward.  
What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.  Hast. 
Come, come, have with you:  
Wots you what, my Lord,  
To day the Lords you talk of, are beheaded.  Sta. 
They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads,  
Then some that have accused them, wear their Hats.  
But come, my Lord, let's away.  Enter a Pursuivant. Hast. 
Go on before, I'll talk with this good fellow.  Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby. 
How now, Sirrah? how goes the World with thee?  Pursenet. 
The better, that your Lordship please to ask.  Hast. 
I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now,  
Then when thou mettest me 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 then ere I was.  Pursenet. 
God hold it, to your Honour's good content.  Hast. 
Gramercy fellow: there, drink that for me.  Throws him his Purse. Pursenet. 
I thank your Honor.  Exit Pursuivant. Enter a Priest. Priest. 
Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honour.  Hast. 
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.  Priest. 
I'll wait upon your Lordship.  Enter Buckingham. Buc. 
What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlain?  
Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the Priest,  
Your Honour hath no shriving work in hand.  Hast. 
Good faith, and when I met this holy man,  
The men you talk of, came into my mind.  
What, go you toward the Tower?  Buc. 
I do, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there:  
I shall return before your Lordship, thence.  Hast. 
Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there.  Buc. 
And Supper too, although thou knowst it not.  
Come, will you go?  Hast. 
I'll wait upon your Lordship.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the Nobles to death at Pomfret. Rivers. 
Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this,  
To day shalt thou behold a Subject die,  
For Truth, for Duty, and for Loyalty.  Grey. 
God bless the Prince from all the Pack of you,  
A Knot you are, of damned Bloodsuckers.  Vaughan. 
You live, that shall cry woe for this hereafter.  Rat. 
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 hacked to death:  
And for more slander to thy dismal Seat,  
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink.  Grey. 
Now Margaret's Curse is fall'n upon our Heads,  
When she exclaimed on Hastings, you, and I,  
For standing by, when Richard stabbed her Son.  Rivers. 
Then cursed she Richard,  
Then cursed she Buckingham,  
Then cursed she Hastings. Oh remember God,  
To hear her prayer 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 knowst, unjustly must be spilt.  Rat. 
Make haste, the hour of death is expiate.  Rivers. 
Come Grey, come Vaughan, let us here embrace.  
Farewell, until we meet again in Heaven.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Quarta.  Enter Buckingham, Derby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolk, Ratcliff, Lovel, with others, at a Table. Hast. 
Now Noble Peers, the cause why we are met,  
Is to determine of the Coronation:  
In God's Name speak, when is the Royal day?  Buck. 
Is all things ready for the Royal time?  Darb. 
It is, and wants but nomination.  Ely. 
To morrow than I judge a happy day.  Buck. 
Who knows the Lord Protectors mind herein?  
Who is most inward with the Noble Duke?  Ely. 
Your Grace, we think, should soon know his mind.  Buck. 
We know each others Faces: for our Hearts,  
He knows no more of mine, than I of yours,  
Or I of his, my Lord, than you of mine:  
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.  Hast. 
I thank his Grace, I know he love's me well:  
But for his purpose in the Coronation,  
I have not sounded him, nor he delivered  
His gracious pleasure any way therein:  
But you, my Honourable 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. Ely. 
In happy time, here comes the Duke himself.  Rich. 
My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow:  
I have been long a sleeper: but I trust,  
My absence doth neglect no great design,  
Which by my presence might have been concluded.  Buck. 
Had you not come upon your O my Lord,  
William, Lord Hastings, had pronounced your part;  
I mean your Voice, for Crowning of the King.  Rich. 
Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder,  
His Lordship knows me well, and love's me well.  
My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn,  
I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there,  
I do beseech you, send for some of them.  Ely. 
Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.  Exit Bishop. Rich. 
Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.  
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,  
And finds the testy Gentleman so hot,  
That he will lose his Head, ere give consent  
His Master's Child, as worshipfully he terms it,  
Shall lose the Royalty of England's Throne.  Buck. 
Withdraw yourself a while, I'll go with you.  Exeunt. Darb. 
We have not yet set down this day of Triumph:  
To morrow, in my judgement, is too sudden,  
For I myself am not so well provided,  
As else I would be, were the day prolonged.  Enter the Bishop of Ely. Ely. 
Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster?  
I have sent for these Strawberries.  Ha. 
His Grace looks cheerfully & smooth this morning,  
There's some conceit or other likes him well,  
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.  
I think there's never a man in Christendom  
Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he,  
For by his Face strait shall you know his Heart.  Darb. 
What of his Heart perceive you in his Face,  
By any livelihood he showed to day?  Hast. 
Marry, that with no man here he is offended:  
For were he, he had shown it in his Looks.  Enter Richard, and Buckingham. Rich. 
I pray you all, tell me what they deserve,  
That do conspire my death with devilish Plots  
Of damned Witchcraft, and that have prevailed  
Upon my Body with their Hellish Charms.  Hast. 
The tender love I bear your Grace, my Lord,  
Makes me most forward, in this Princely presence,  
To doom th' Offenders, whosoever they be:  
I say, my Lord, they have deserved death.  Rich. 
Then be your eyes the witness of their evil.  
Look how I am bewitched: behold, mine Arm  
Is like a blasted Sapling, withered up:  
And this is Edward's Wife, that monstrous Witch,  
Consorted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore,  
That by their Witchcraft thus have marked me.  Hast. 
If they have done this deed, my Noble Lord.  Rich. 
If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet,  
Talk'st thou to 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:  Exeunt. 
The rest that love me, rise, and follow me.  Manet Lovel and Ratcliff, with the Lord Hastings. Hast. 
Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me,  
For I, too fond, might have prevented this:  
Stanley did dream, the Boar did rouse our Helms,  
And I did scorn it, and disdain to fly:  
Three times to day my Foot-Cloth-Horse did stumble,  
And started, when he looked upon the Tower,  
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.  
O now I need the Priest, that spoke to me:  
I now repent I told the Pursuivant,  
As too triumphing, how mine Enemies  
To day at Pomfret bloodily were butchered,  
And I myself secure, in grace and favour.  
Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy Curse  
Is lighted on poor Hastings wretched Head.  Ra. 
Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner:  
Make a short Shrift, he longs to see your Head.  Hast. 
O momentary grace of mortal men,  
Which we more hunt for, than the grace of God!  
Who builds his hope in air of your good Looks,  
Life's like a drunken Sailor on a Mast,  
Ready with every Nod to tumble down,  
Into the fatal Bowels of the Deep.  Lou. 
Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootless to exclaim.  Hast. 
O bloody Richard: miserable England,  
I prophesy the fearefull'st time to thee,  
That ever wretched Age hath looked upon.  
Come, lead me to the Block, bear him my Head,  
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.  Exeunt. Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour, marvelous ill-favoured. Richard. 
Come Cousin,  
Canst thou quake, and change thy colour,  
Murder thy breath in middle of a word,  
And then again begin, and stop again,  
As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror?  Buck. 
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?  Rich. 
He is, and see he brings the Mayor along.  Enter the Mayor, and Catesby. Buck. 
Lord Maior.  Rich. 
Look to the Drawbridge there.  Buck. 
Hark, a Drum.  Rich. 
Catesby, o'erlook the Walls.  Buck. 
Lord Maior, the reason we have sent.  Rich. 
Look back, defend thee, here are Enemies.  Buck. 
God and our Innocence defend, and guard us.  Enter Lovel and Ratcliff, with Hastings Head. Rich. 
Be patiented, they are friends: Ratcliff, and Lovel.  Lovel. 
Here is the Head of that ignoble Traitor,  
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.  Rich. 
So dear I loved the man, that I must weep:  
I took him for the plainest harmless Creature,  
That breathed upon the Earth, a Christian.  
Made him my Book, wherein my Soul recorded  
The History of all her secret thoughts.  
So smooth he daubed his Vice with show of Virtue,  
That his apparent open Gild omitted,  
I mean, his Conversation with Shore's Wife,  
He lived from all attainder of suspects.  Buck. 
Well, well, he was the covertst sheltered Traitor  
That ever lived.  
Would you imagine, or almost believe,  
Wert not, that by great preservation  
We live to tell it, that the subtle Traitor  
This day had plotted, in the Council-house,  
To murder me, and my good Lord of Gloster.  Maior. 
Had he done so?  Rich. 
What? think you we are Turks, or Infidels?  
Or that we would, against the form of Law,  
Proceed thus rashly in 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.  Maior. 
Now fair befall you, he deserved his death,  
And your good Graces both have well proceeded,  
To warn false Traitors from the like Attempts.  Buck. 
I never looked for better at his hands,  
After he once fell in with Mistress Shore:  
Yet had we not determined he should dye,  
Until your Lordship came to see his end,  
Which now the loving haste of these our friends,  
Something against our meanings, have prevented;  
Because, my Lord, I would have had you heard  
The Traitor speak, and timorously confess  
The manner and the purpose of his Treasons:  
That you might well have signified the same  
Unto the Citizens, who haply may  
Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death.  Ma. 
But, my good Lord, your Grace's words shall serve,  
As well as I had seen, and heard him speak:  
And do not doubt, right Noble Princes both,  
But I'll acquaint our duteous Citizens  
With all your just proceed in this case.  Rich. 
And to that end we wished your Lordship here,  
T' avoid the Censures of the carping World.  Buck. 
Which since you come too late of our intent,  
Yet witness what you hear we did intent:  
And so, my good Lord Mayor, we bid farewell.  Exit Maior. Rich. 
Go after, after, Cousin Buckingham.  
The Mayor towards Guild-Hall hies him in all post:  
There, at your meetest vantage 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 unto their Servants, Daughters, Wives,  
Even where his raging eye, or savage heart,  
Without control, lusted to make a prey.  
Nay, for a need, thus fare come near my Person:  
Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child  
Of that insatiate Edward; Noble York,  
My Princely Father, than had Wars in France,  
And by true 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:  
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere fare off,  
Because, my Lord, you know my Mother life's.  Buck. 
Doubt 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.  Rich. 
If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle,  
Where you shall find me well accompanied  
With reverend Fathers, and well-learned Bishops.  Buck. 
I go, and towards three or four a Clock  
Look for the News that the Guild-Hall affords.  Exit Buckingham. Rich. 
Go Lovel with all speed to Doctor Shaw,  
Go thou to Friar Peuker, bid them both  
Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle.  Exit. 
Now will I go to take some privy order,  
To draw the Brats of Clarence out of sight,  
And to give order, that no manner person  
Have any time recourse unto the Princes.  Exeunt. Enter a Scrivener. Scr. 
Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Hastings,  
Which in a set Hand fairly is engrossed,  
That it may be to day read o'er in Paul's.  
And mark how well the sequel hangs together:  
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,  
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me,  
The Precedent was full as long a doing,  
And yet within these five hours Hastings lived,  
Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty.  
Here's a good World the while.  
Who is so gross, that cannot see this palpable device?  
Yet who so bold, but says he sees it not?  
Bad is the World, and all will come to nought,  
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought.  Exit. Enter Richard and Buckingham at several Doors. Rich. 
How now, how now, what say the Citizens?  Buck. 
Now by the holy Mother of our Lord,  
The Citizens are mum, say not a word.  Rich. 
Touched you the Bastardy of Edward's Children?  Buck 
I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy,  
And his Contract by Deputy in France,  
Th' unsatiate greediness of his desire,  
And his enforcement of the City Wives,  
His Tyranny for Trifles, his own Bastardy,  
As being got, your Father then in France,  
And 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 Discipline in War, Wisdom in Peace,  
Your Bounty, Virtue, fair Humility:  
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose,  
Untouched, or slightly handled in discourse.  
And when my Oratory drew toward end,  
I bid them that did love their Country's good,  
Cry, God save Richard, England's Royal King.  Rich. 
And did they so?  Buck. 
No, so God help me, they spoke not a word,  
But like dumb Statues, or breathing Stones,  
Stared each on other, and looked deadly pale:  
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,  
And asked the Mayor, what meant this wilful silence?  
His answer was, the people were not used  
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 inferred,  
But nothing spoke, in warrant from himself.  
When he had done, some followers of mine own,  
At lower end of the Hall, hurled 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 cheerful shout,  
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard:  
And even here broke off, and came away.  Rich. 
What tongueless Blocks were they,  
Would they not speak?  
Will not the Mayor then, and his Brethren, come?  Buck. 
The Mayor is here at hand: intent some fear,  
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:  
And look you get a Prayer-book in your hand,  
And stand between two Churchmen, good my Lord,  
For on that ground I'll make a holy Descant:  
And be not easily won to our requests,  
Play the Maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.  Rich. 
I go: and if you plead as well for them,  
As I can say nay to thee for myself,  
No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.  Buck. 
Go, go up to the Leads, the Lord Maior knocks.  Enter the Mayor, and Citizens. 
Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here,  
I think the Duke will not be spoke withal.  Enter Catesby. Buck. 
Now Catesby, what says your Lord to my request?  Catesby. 
He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,  
To visit him to morrow, or next day:  
He is within, with two right reverend Fathers,  
Divinely bend to Meditation,  
And in no Worldly suits would he be moved,  
To draw him from his holy Exercise.  Buck. 
Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,  
Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen,  
In deep designs, in matter of great moment,  
No less importing then our general good,  
Are come to have some conference with his Grace.  Catesby. 
I'll signify so much unto him strait.  Exit. Buck. 
Ah ha', my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward,  
He is not lulling on a lewd Love-bed,  
But on his Knees, at Meditation:  
Not dallying with a Brace of Courtesans,  
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 virtuous Prince  
Take on his Grace the Sovereignty thereof.  
But sure I fear we shall not win him to it.  Maior. 
Marry God defend his Grace should say us nay.  Buck. 
I fear he will: here Catesby comes again.  Enter Catesby. 
Now Catesby, what says his Grace?  Catesby. 
He wonders to what end you have assembled  
Such troops of Citizens, to come to him,  
His Grace not being warned thereof before:  
He fears, my Lord, you mean no good to him.  Buck. 
Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin should  
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:  
By Heaven, we come to him in perfect love,  
And so once more return, and tell his Grace.  Exit. 
When holy and devout Religious men  
Are at their Beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,  
So sweet is zealous Contemplation.  Enter Richard aloft, between two Bishops. Maior. 
See where his Grace stands, 'tween two Clergy men.  Buck. 
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 ear to our requests,  
And pardon us the interruption  
Of thy Devotion, and right Christian Zeal.  Rich. 
My Lord, there needs no such Apology:  
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,  
Who earnest in the service of my God,  
Deferred the visitation of my friends.  
But leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure?  Buck. 
Even that (I hope) which pleaseth God above,  
And all good men, of this ungoverned I'll.  Rich. 
I do suspect I have done some offence,  
That seems disgracious in the City's eye,  
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.  Buck. 
You have, my Lord:  
Would it might please your Grace,  
On our entreaties, to amend your fault.  Rich. 
Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land.  Buck. 
Know then, it is your fault, that you resign  
The Supreme Seat, the Throne Majestical,  
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,  
Your State of Fortune, and your Dew of Birth,  
The Lineal Glory of your Royal House,  
To the corruption of a blemished Stock;  
Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,  
Which here we waken to our Country's good,  
The Noble I'll doth want his proper Limbs:  
His Face defaced with scars of Infamy,  
His Royal Stock grafft with ignoble Plants,  
And almost shouldered in the swallowing Gulf  
Of dark Forgetfulness, and deep Oblivion.  
Which to recure, we hearty 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 Empire, your own.  
For this, consorted with the Citizens,  
Your very Worshipful and loving friends,  
And by their vehement instigation,  
In this just Cause come I to move your Grace.  Rich. 
I cannot tell, if to departed 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 fond you would here impose on me.  
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,  
So seasoned with your faithful love to me,  
Then on the other side I checked 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 thankes, but my desert  
Vnmeritable, shuns your high request.  
First, if all Obstacles were cut away,  
And that my Path were even to the Crown,  
As the ripe Revenue, and due of Birth:  
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,  
So mighty, and so many my defects,  
That I would rather hide me from my Greatness,  
Being a Bark to brook no mighty Sea;  
Then in my Greatness covet to be hid,  
And in the vapour of my Glory smothered.  
But God be thanked, there is no need of me,  
And much I need to help you, were there need:  
The Royal Tree hath left us Royal Fruit,  
Which mellowed 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 that, you would lay on me,  
The Right and Fortune of his happy Stars,  
Which God defend that I should wring from him.  Buck. 
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 was be contract to Lady Lucy,  
Your Mother life's a Witness to his Vow;  
And afterward by substitute betrothed  
To Bona, Sister to the King of France.  
These both put off, a poor Petitioner,  
A Care-crased Mother to a many Sons,  
A Beautie-waining, and distressed Widow,  
Even in the afternoon of her best days,  
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,  
Seduced the pitch, and height of his degree,  
To base declension, and loathed Bigamy.  
By her, in his unlawful Bed, he got  
This Edward, whom our Manners call 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 proffered benefit of Dignity:  
If not 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.  Maior. 
Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you.  Buck. 
Refuse not, mighty Lord, this proffered love.  Catesb. 
O make them joyful, grant their lawful suit.  Rich. 
Alas, why would you heap this Care 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.  Buck 
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 Kindred,  
And equally indeed to all Estates;  
Yet know, where 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, we will entreat no more.  Exeunt. Catesb. 
Call him again, sweet Prince, accept their suit:  
If you deny them, all the Land will rue it.  Rich. 
Will you enforce me to a world of Cares.  
Call them again, I am not made of Stones,  
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,  
Albeit against my Conscience and my Soul.  Enter Buckingham, and the rest. 
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men,  
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,  
To bear her burden, where I will or no.  
I must have patience to endure the Load:  
But if black Scandal, or foule-faced Reproach,  
Attend the sequel of your Imposition,  
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me  
From all the impure blots and stains thereof;  
For God doth know, and you may partly see,  
How fare I am from the desire of this.  Maior. 
God bless your Grace, we see it, and will say it.  Rich. 
In saying so, you shall but say the truth.  Buck. 
Then I salute you with this Royal Title,  
Long live King Richard, England's worthy King.  All. 
Amen.  Buck. 
To morrow may it please you to be Crowned.  Rich. 
Even when you please, for you will have it so.  Buck. 
To morrow than we will attend your Grace,  
And so most joyfully we take our leave.  Rich. 
Come, let us to our holy Work again.  
Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter the Queen, Anne Duchess of Gloucester, the Duchess of York, and marquis Dorset. Duch. York. 
Who meets us here?  
My Niece Plantagenet,  
Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?  
Now, for my Life, she's wand'ring to the Tower,  
On pure hearts love, to greet the tender Prince.  
Daughter, well met.  Anne. 
God give your Graces both, a happy  
And a joyful time of day.  Qu. 
As much to you, good Sister: whither away?  Anne. 
No farther than the Tower, and as I guess,  
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,  
To gratulate the gentle Princes there.  Qu. 
Kind Sister thankes, we'll enter all together:  Enter the Lieutenant. 
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?  Lieu. 
Right well, dear Madame: by your patience,  
I may not suffer you to visit them,  
The King hath strictly charged the contrary.  Qu. 
The King? who's that?  Lieu. 
I mean, the Lord Protector.  Qu. 
The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.  
Hath he set bounds between their love, and me?  
I am their Mother, who shall bar me from them?  Duch. York. 
I am their Father's Mother, I will see them.  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.  Lieu. 
No, Madame, no; I may not leave it so:  
I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.  Exit Lieutenant. Enter Stanley. 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,  
Come Madame, you must strait to Westminster,  
There to be crowned Richard's Royal Queen.  Qu. 
Ah, cut my Lace asunder,  
That my penned heart may have some scope to beat,  
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.  Anne. 
Despiteful tidings, O unpleasing news.  Dors. 
Be of good cheer: Mother, how fares your Grace?  Qu. 
O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone,  
Death and Destruction dogs thee at thy 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 dye the thrall of Margaret's Curse,  
Nor Mother, Wife, nor England's counted Queen.  Stanley. 
Full of wise care, is this your counsel, Madame:  
Take all the swift advantage of the hours:  
You shall have Letters from me to my Son,  
In your behalf, to meet you on the way:  
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.  Duch. York. 
O ill dispersing▪ Wind of Misery,  
O my accursed Womb, the Bed of Death:  
A Cockatrice hast thou hatched to the World.  
Whose unavoided Eye is murderous.  Stanley. 
Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent.  Anne. 
And I with all unwillingness will go.  
O would to God, that the inclusive Verge  
Of Golden Mettle, that must round my Brow,  
Were red hot Steel, to sear me to the Brains,  
Anointed let me be with deadly Venom,  
And dye ere men can say, God save the Queen.  Qu. 
Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory,  
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.  Anne. 
No: why? When he that is my Husband now,  
Came to me, as I followed Venries' Corpse.  
When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands,  
Which issued from my other Angel Husband,  
And that dear Saint, which then I weeping followed:  
O, when I say I looked 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 weddest, let sorrow haunt thy Bed;  
And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,  
More miserable, by the Life of thee,  
Then thou hast made me, by my dear Lords death.  
Lo, ere I can repeat this Curse again,  
Within so small a time, my Woman's heart  
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,  
And proved the subject of mine own Souls Curse,  
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:  
For never yet one hour in his Bed  
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,  
But with his timorous Dreams was still awaked.  
Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwick,  
And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me.  Qu. 
Poor heart adieu, I pity thy complaining.  Anne. 
No more, then with my soul I mourn for yours.  Dors. 
Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory.  Anne. 
Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it.  Du. Y. 
Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,  
Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,  
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 hours joy wracked with a week of teen.  Qu. 
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 Sorrows bids your Stones farewell.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pomp, Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Lovel. Rich. 
Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham.  Buck. 
My gracious Sovereign.  Rich. 
Give me thy hand.  Sound. 
Thus high, by thy advice, and thy assistance,  
Is King Richard seated:  
But shall we wear these Glories for a day?  
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?  Buck. 
Still live they, and for ever let them last.  Rich. 
Ah Buckingham, now do I play the Touch,  
To try if thou be currant Gold indeed:  
Young Edward life's, think now what I would speak.  Buck. 
Say on my loving Lord.  Rich. 
Why Buckingham, I say I would be King.  Buck. 
Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord.  Rich. 
Ha'? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward life's.  Buck 
True, Noble Prince.  Rich. 
O bitter consequence!  
That Edward still should live true Noble Prince.  
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.  
Shall I be plain? I wish the Bastards dead,  
And I would have it suddenly performed.  
What sayest thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.  Buck. 
Your Grace may do your pleasure.  Rich. 
Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindness freezes:  
Say, have I thy consent, that they shall dye?  Buc. 
Give me some little breath, some pause, dear Lord,  
Before I positively speak in this:  
I will resolve you herein presently.  Exit Buck. Catesby. 
The King is angry, see he gnaws his Lip.  Rich. 
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.  Rich. 
knowst thou not any, whom corrupting Gold  
Will tempt unto a close exploit of Death?  Page. 
I know a discontented Gentleman,  
Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit:  
Gold were as good as twenty Orators,  
And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing.  Rich. 
What is his Name?  Page. 
His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell.  Rich. 
I partly know the man: go call him hither, Boy.  Exit. 
The deep revolving witty Buckingham,  
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.  
Hath he so long held out with me, untired,  
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.  Enter Stanley. 
How now, Lord Stanley, what's the news?  Stanley. 
Know my loving Lord, the marquis Dorset  
As I hear, is fled to Richmond,  
In the parts where he abides.  Rich. 
Come hither Catesby, rumour it abroad,  
That Anne my Wife is very grievous sick,  
I will take order for her keeping close.  
Inquire me out some mean poor Gentleman,  
Whom I will marry strait to Clarence Daughter:  
The Boy is foolish, and I fear not him.  
Look how thou dreamest: I say again, give out,  
That Anne, my Queen, is sick, and like to dye.  
About it, for it stands me much upon  
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.  
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 fare in blood, that sin will pluck on sin,  
Teare-falling Pity dwells not in this Eye.  Enter Tyrrel. 
Is thy Name Tyrrel?  Tyr. 
james Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.  Rich. 
Art thou indeed?  Tyr. 
Prove me, my gracious Lord.  Rich. 
Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?  Tyr. 
Please you:  
But I had rather kill two enemies.  Rich. 
Why then thou hast it: two deep enemies.  
Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleeps disturbers,  
Are they that I would have thee deal upon:  
Tyrrel, I mean those Bastards in the Tower.  Tyr. 
Let me have open means to come to them,  
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.  Rich. 
Thou singest 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 for it.  Tyr. 
I will dispatch it strait.  Exit. Enter Buckingham. Buck. 
My Lord, I have considered in my mind,  
The late request that you did sound me in.  Rich. 
Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond.  Buck. 
I hear the news, my Lord.  Rich. 
Stanley, he is your Wife's Son: well, look unto it.  Buck. 
My Lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,  
For which your Honour and your Faith is pawned,  
Th' Earldom of Hertford, and the moveables,  
Which you have promised I shall possess.  Rich. 
Stanley look to your Wife: if she convey  
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.  Buck. 
What says your Highness to my just request?  Rich. 
I do remember me, Henry the sixth  
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be King,  
When Richmond was a little peevish Boy.  
A King perhaps.  Buck. 
May it please you to resolve me in my suit.  Rich. 
Thou troublest me, I am not in the vain.  Exit. Buck. 
And is it thus? repays he my deep service  
With such contempt? made I him King for this?  
O let me think on Hastings, and be gone  
To Brecnock, while my fearful Head is on.  Exit. Enter Tyrrel. Tyr. 
The tyrannous and bloody Act is done,  
The most arch deed of piteous massacre  
That ever yet this Land was guilty of:  
Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborn  
To do this piece of ruthful Butchery,  
Albeit they were fleshed Villains, bloody Dogs,  
Melted with tenderness, and mild compassion,  
Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story.  
O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes:  
Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another  
Within their Alabaster innocent Arms:  
Their lips were four red Roses on a stalk,  
And in their Summer Beauty kissed each other.  
A Book of Prayers on their pillow lay,  
Which one (quoth Forrest) almost changed my mind:  
But oh the Devil, there the Villain stopped:  
When Dighton thus told on, we smothered  
The most replenished sweet work of Nature,  
That from the prime Creation ere she framed.  
Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse,  
They could not speak, and so I left them both,  
To bear this tidings to the bloody King.  Enter Richard. 
And here he comes. All health my Sovereign Lord.  Ric. 
Kind Tirrell, am I happy in thy News.  Tir. 
If to have done the thing you gave in charge,  
Be get your happiness, be happy then,  
For it is done.  Rich. 
But didst thou see them dead.  Tir. 
I did my Lord.  Rich. 
And buried gentle Tirrell.  Tir. 
The Chaplain of the Tower hath buried them,  
But where (to say the truth) I do not know.  Rich. 
Come to me Tirrel soon, and after Supper,  
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.  
Mean time, but think how I may do the good,  
And be inheritor of thy desire.  
Farewell till then.  Tir. 
I humbly take my leave.  Rich. 
The Son of Clarence have I penned up close,  
His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage,  
The Sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,  
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night,  
Now for I know the Britain Richmond aims  
At young Elizabeth my brother's daughter,  
And by that knot looks proudly on the Crown,  
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.  Enter Ratcliffe. Rat. 
My Lord.  Rich. 
Good or bad news, that thou comest in so bluntly?  Rat. 
Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond,  
And Buckingham backed with the hardy Welshmen  
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.  Rich. 
Ely with Richmond troubles me more near,  
Then Buckingham and his rash levied Strength.  
Come, I have learned, that fearful commenting  
Is leaden servitor to dull delay.  
Delay leds impotent and Snaile-paced Beggary:  
Then fiery expedition be my wing,  
Jove's Mercury, and Herald for a King:  
Go muster men: My counsel is my Shield,  
We must be brief, when Traitors brave the Field.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter old Queen Margaret. Mar. 
So now prosperity gins to mellow,  
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:  
here in these Confines slily have I lurked,  
To watch the waning of mine enemies.  
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 Duchess and Queen. Qu. 
Ah my poor Princes! ah my tender Babes:  
My unblowed Flowers, new appearing sweets:  
If yet your gentle souls fly in the Air,  
And be not fixed in doom perpetual,  
Hover about me with your eyrie wings,  
And hear your mother's Lamentation.  Mar. 
Hover about her, say that right for right  
Hath dimmed your Infant morn, to Aged night.  Dut. 
So many miseries have crazed my voice,  
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.  
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?  Mar. 
Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,  
Edward for Edward, pays a dying debt.  Qu. 
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?  Mar. 
When holy Harry died, and my sweet Son.  Dut. 
Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,  
Woes Scene, World's shame, Graves' due, by life usurped,  
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,  
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,  
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.  Qu. 
Ah that thou wouldst as soon afford a Grave,  
As thou canst yield a melancholy sear:  
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here,  
Ah who hath any cause to mourn but we?  Mar. 
If ancient sorrow be most reverend,  
Give mine the benefit of signory,  
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand  
If sorrow can admit Society.  
I had an Edward, till a Richard killed him:  
I had a Husband, till a Richard killed him:  
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard killed him:  
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him.  Dut. 
I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;  
I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him.  Mar. 
Thou hadst a Clarence too,  
And Richard killed him.  
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept  
A Hellhound 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 handy work:  
That reigns in gauled eyes of weeping souls:  
That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,  
Thy womb let lose to chase us to our graves.  
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,  
How do I thank thee, that this carnal Cur  
Prays on the issue of his Mother's body,  
And makes her Pew-fellow with others moan.  Dut. 
Oh Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes:  
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.  Mar. 
Bear with me: I am hungry for revenge,  
And now I cloy me with beholding it.  
Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward,  
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:  
Young York, he is but boot, because both they  
Matched not the high perfection of my loss.  
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabbed my Edward,  
And the beholders of this frantic play,  
Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,  
Untimely smothered in their dusky Graves.  
Richard yet life's, 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 conveyed from hence:  
Cancel his bond of life, dear God I pray,  
That I may live and say, The Dog is dead.  Qu. 
O thou didst prophesy, the time would come,  
That I should wish for thee to help me curse  
That botteled Spider, that foul bunch-backed Toad.  Mar. 
I called thee then, vain flourish of my fortune:  
I called 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 hurled down below:  
A Mother only mocked with two fair Babes;  
A dream of what thou wast, a garish Flag  
To be the aim of every dangerous Shot;  
A sign of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;  
A Queen in jest, only to fill the Scene.  
Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers?  
Where be thy two Sons? Wherein dost thou joy?  
Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save the Queen?  
Where be the bending Peers that flattered thee?  
Where be the thronging Troops that followed 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 one being sued too, one that humbly sues:  
For Queen, a very Caitiff, crowned with care:  
For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me:  
For she being feared of all, now fearing one:  
For she commanding all, obeyed of none.  
Thus hath the course of justice whirled about,  
And left thee but a very prey to time,  
Having no more but Thought of what thou wast.  
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 burdened yoke,  
From which, even here I slip my wearied head,  
And leave the burden of it all, on thee.  
Farewell York's wife, and Queen of sad mischance,  
These English woes, shall make me smile in France.  Qu. 
O thou well skilled in Curses, stay awhile,  
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.  Mar. 
Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day:  
Compare dead happiness, with living woe:  
Think that thy Babes were sweeter than they were,  
And he that slew them fouler than he is:  
Bett'ring thy loss, makes the bad causer worse,  
Revolving this, will teach thee how to Curse.  Qu. 
My words are dull, O quicken them with thine.  Mar. 
Thy woes will make them sharp,  
And pierce like mine.  Exit Margaret. Dut. 
Why should calamity be full of words?  Qu. 
Windy Attorneys to their Clients Woes,  
Eyrie succeeders of intestine joys,  
Poor breathing Orators of miseries,  
Let them have scope, though what they will impart,  
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the hart.  Dut. 
If so then, be not Tongue-tied: go with me,  
And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother  
My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sons smothered.  
The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaims.  Enter King Richard, and his Train. Rich. 
Who intercepts me in my Expedition?  Dut. 
O she, that might have intercepted thee  
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,  
From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done.  Qu. 
Hidest thou that Forehead with a Golden Crown  
Where't should be branded, if that right were right?  
The slaughter of the Prince that owed that Crown,  
And the dire death of my poor Sons, and Brothers.  
Tell me thou Villaine-flave, where are my Children?  Dut. 
Thou Toad, thou Toad,  
Where is thy Brother Clarence?  
And little Ned Plantagenet his Son?  Qu. 
Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Gray?  Dut. 
Where is kind Hastings?  Rich. 
A flourish Trumpet's, strike Alarm Drums:  
Let not the Heavens hear these Tell-tale women  
Rail on the Lords Anointed. Strike I say.  Flourish. Alarms. 
Either be patiented, and entreat me fair,  
Or with the clamorous report of War,  
Thus will I drown your exclamations.  Dut. 
Art thou my Son?  Rich. 
I, I thank God, my Father, and yourself.  Dut. 
Then patiently hear my impatience.  Rich. 
Madam, I have a touch of your condition,  
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.  Dut. 
O let me speak.  Rich. 
Do then, but I'll not hear.  Dut: 
I will be mild, and gentle in my words.  Rich. 
And brief (good Mother) for I am in haste.  Dut. 
Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee  
(God knows) in torment and in agony.  Rich. 
And came I not at last to comfort you?  Dut. 
No by the holy Rood, thou knowst it well,  
Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell.  
A grievous burden 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 confirmed, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,  
More mild, but yet more harmful; Kind in hatred:  
What comfortable hour canst thou name,  
That ever graced me with thy company?  Rich. 
Faith none, but Humphrey Hour,  
That called your Grace  
To Breakfast once, forth of my company.  
If I be so disgracious in your eye,  
Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.  
Strike up the Drum.  Dut. 
I prithee hear me speak.  Rich. 
You speak too bitterly.  Dut. 
Hear me a word:  
For I shall never speak to thee again.  Rich. 
So.  Dut. 
Either thou wilt dye, by God's just ordinance  
Ere from this war thou turn a Conqueror:  
Or I with grief and extreme Age shall perish,  
And never more behold thy face again.  
Therefore take with thee my most grievous 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. Qu. 
Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse  
Abides in me, I say Amen to her.  Rich. 
Stay Madam, I must talk a word with you.  Qu. 
I have no more sons of the Royal Blood  
For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters (Richard)  
They shall be praying Nuns, not weeping Queens:  
And therefore level not to hit their lives.  Rich. 
You have a daughter called Elizabeth,  
Virtuous and Fair, Royal and Gracious?  Qu. 
And must she dye 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 unscarred of bleeding slaughter,  
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.  Rich. 
Wrong not her Birth, she is a Royal Princess.  Qu. 
To save her life, I'll say she is not so.  Rich. 
Her life is safest only in her birth.  Qu. 
And only in that safety, died her Brothers.  Rich. 
Lo at their Birth, good stars were opposite.  Qu. 
No, to their lives, ill friends were contrary.  Rich. 
All unavoided is the doom of Destiny.  Qu. 
True: when avoided grace makes Destiny.  
My Babes were destined to a fairer death,  
If grace had blessed thee with a fairer life.  Rich, 
You speak as if that I had slain my Cousins?  Qu. 
Cousin's indeed, and by their Uncle cozened,  
Of Comfort, Kingdom, Kindred, Freedom, Life,  
Whose hand soever launched 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 anchored in thine eyes:  
And I in such a desperate Bay of death,  
Like a poor Bark, of sails and tackling rose,  
Rush all to pieces on thy Rocky bosom.  Rich. 
Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise  
And dangerous success of bloody wars,  
As I intent more good to you and yours,  
Then ever you and yours by me were harmed.  Qu. 
What good is covered with the face of heaven,  
To be discovered, that can do me good.  Rich. 
Th' advancement of your children, gentle Lady  Qu. 
up to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads.  Rich. 
Unto the dignity and height of Fortune,  
The high Imperial Type of this earth's glory.  Qu. 
Flatter my sorrow with report of it:  
Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honour,  
Canst thou demise to any child of mine.  Rich. 
Even all I have; I, 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.  Qu. 
Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness  
Last longer telling then thy kindness date.  Rich. 
Then know,  
That from my Soul, I love thy Daughter.  Qu. 
My daughter's Mother thinks it with her soul.  Rich. 
What do you think?  Qu. 
That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul  
So from thy Souls love didst thou love her Brothers,  
And from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it.  Rich. 
Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:  
I mean that with my Soul I love thy daughter,  
And do intent to make her Queen of England.  Qu. 
Well then, who dost thou mean shallbe her King.  Rich. 
Even he that makes her Queen:  
Who else should be?  Qu. 
What, thou?  Rich. 
Even so: How think you of it?  Qu. 
How canst thou woe her?  Rich. 
That I would learn of you,  
As one being best acquainted with her humour.  Qu. 
And wilt thou learn of me?  Rich. 
Madam, with all my heart.  Qu. 
Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers,  
A pair of bleeding hearts: thereon engrave  
Edward and York, then haply will she weep:  
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret  
Did to thy Father, steeped in Rutland's blood,  
A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne  
The purple sap from her sweet Brother's body,  
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.  
If this inducement move her not to love,  
Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:  
Tell her, thou mad'st away her Uncle Clarence,  
Her Uncle Rivers, I (and for her sake)  
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good Aunt Anne.  Rich. 
You mock me Madam, this not the way  
To win your daughter.  Qu. 
There is no other way,  
Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,  
And not be Richard, that hath done all this.  Ric. 
Say that I did all this for love of her.  Qu. 
Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee  
Having bought love, with such a bloody spoil.  Rich. 
Look what is done, cannot be now amended:  
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,  
Which after-houres gives leisure to repent.  
If I did take the Kingdom from your Sons,  
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter:  
If I have killed the issue of your womb,  
To quicken your increase, I will beget  
Mine issue of your blood, upon your Daughter:  
A Grandams name is little less in love,  
Then is the doting Title of a Mother;  
They are as Children but one step below,  
Even of your mettle, of your very blood:  
Of all 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,  
Repaired 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, transformed to Orient Pearl,  
Aduantaging their Love, with interest  
Oftentimes 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 Wooers Tale.  
Put in her tender heart, th' 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-brained 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 shallbe sole Victoresse, Caesar's Caesar.  Qu. 
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 woe for thee,  
That God, the Law, my Honour, and her Love,  
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?  Rich. 
Infer fair England's peace by this Alliance.  Queen 
Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.  Rich. 
Tell her, the King that may command, entreats.  Qu. 
That at her hands, which the king's King forbids.  Rich. 
Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queen.  Qu. 
To veil the Title, as her Mother doth.  Rich. 
Say I will love her everlastingly.  Qu. 
But how long shall that title ever last?  Rich. 
Sweetly in force, unto her fair life's end.  Qu. 
But how long fairly shall her sweet life last?  Rich. 
As long as Heaven and Nature lengthens it.  Queen 
As long as Hell and Richard likes of it.  Rich. 
Say, I her Sovereign, am her Subject low.  Qu. 
But she your Subject, loathes such Sovereignty.  Rich. 
Be eloquent in my behalf to her.  Qu. 
An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.  Rich. 
Then plainly to her, tell my loving tale.  Qu. 
Plain and not honest, is too harsh a style.  Rich. 
Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quick.  Qu. 
O no, my Reasons are too deep and dead,  
Too deep and dead (poor Infants) in their graves,  
Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings break.  Rich. 
Harp not on that string Madam, that is past.  
Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crown.  Qu. 
Profaned, dishonoured, and the third usurped.  Rich. 
I swear.  Qu. 
By nothing, for this is no Oath:  
Thy George profaned, hath lost his Lordly Honour;  
Thy Garter blemished, pawned his Knightly Virtue;  
Thy Crown usurped, disgraced his Kingly Glory:  
If something thou wouldst swear to be believed,  
Swear then by something, that thou hast not wronged.  Rich. 
Then by myself.  Qu. 
Thyself, is selfe-misvsed.  Rich. 
Now by the World.  Qu. 
'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.  Rich. 
My Father's death.  Qu. 
Thy life hath it dishonoured.  Rich. 
Why then, by Heaven.  Qu. 
Heaven's wrong is most of all:  
If thou didd'st fear to break an Oath with him,  
The unity the King my husband made,  
Thou hadst not broken, nor my Brothers died.  
If thou hadst feared to break an oath by him,  
Th' Imperial mettle, circling now thy head,  
Had graced the tender temples of my Child,  
And both the Princes had been breathing here,  
Which now two tender Bedfellows for dust,  
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Worms.  
What canst thou swear by now.  Rich. 
The time to come.  Qu. 
That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast:  
For I myself have many tears to wash  
Hereafter time, for time past, wronged by thee.  
The Children live, whose Fathers thou hast slaughtered,  
Ungoverned youth, to wail it with their age:  
The Parents live, whose Children thou hast butchered,  
Old barren Plants, to wail it with their Age.  
Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast  
Misused ere used, by times ill-vsed repast.  Rich. 
As I intend to prosper, and repent:  
So thrive I in my dangerous Affairs  
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 proceeding, if with dear hearts love,  
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,  
I tender not thy beauteous Princely daughter.  
In her, consists my Happiness, and thine:  
Without her, follows to myself, and thee;  
Herself, the Land, 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 dear Mother (I must call 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 found, in great Designs.  Qu. 
Shall I be tempted of the Devil thus?  Rich. 
I, if the Devil tempt you to do good.  Qu. 
Shall I forget myself, to be myself.  Rich. 
I, if yourselves remembrance wrong yourself.  Qu. 
Yet thou didst kill my Children.  Rich. 
But in your daughter's womb I bury them.  
Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed  
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.  Qu. 
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?  Rich. 
And be a happy Mother by the deed.  Qu. 
I go, writ to me very shortly,  
And you shall understand from me her mind.  Exit Q. Rich. 
Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell.  
Relenting Fool, and shallow-changing Woman.  
How now, what news?  Enter Ratcliffe. Rat. 
Most mighty Sovereign, on the Western Coast  
Rideth a puissant Navy: to our Shores  
Throng many doubtful hollowhearted friends,  
Unarmed, 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.  Rich. 
Some lightfoot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:  
Ratcliff thyself, or Catesby, where is he?  Cat. 
Here, my good Lord.  Rich. 
Catesby, fly to the Duke.  Cat. 
I will, my Lord, with all convenient haste.  Rich. 
Catesby come hither, post to Salisbury:  
When thou comest thither: Dull unmindful Villain,  
Why stayest thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?  Cat. 
First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highness' pleasure,  
What from your Grace I shall deliver to him.  Rich. 
O true, good Catesby, bid him levy strait  
The greatest strength and power that he can make,  
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.  Cat. 
I go.  Exit. Rat. 
What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?  Rich. 
Why, what wouldst thou do there, before I go?  Rat. 
Your Highness told me I should post before.  Rich. 
My mind is changed:  Enter Lord Stanley. 
Stanley, what news with you?  Sta. 
None, good my Liege, to please you with the hearing,  
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.  Rich. 
Heyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:  
What needest thou run so many miles about,  
When thou mayest tell thy Tale the nearest way?  
Once more, what news?  Stan. 
Richmond is on the Seas.  Rich. 
There let him sink, and be the Seas on him,  
White-livered Runagate, what doth he there?  Stan. 
I know not, mighty Sovereign, but by guess.  Rich. 
Well, as you guess.  Stan. 
Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,  
He makes for England, here to claim the Crown.  Rich. 
Is the Chair empty? is the Sword unswayed?  
Is the King dead? the Empire unpossessed?  
What Heir of York is there alive, but we?  
And who is England's King, but great York's Heir?  
Then tell me, what makes he upon the Seas?  Stan. 
Unless for that, my Liege, I cannot guess.  Rich. 
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.  Stan. 
No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not.  Rich. 
Where is thy Power then, to beat him back?  
Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers?  
Are they not now upon the Western Shore,  
Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Ships?  Stan. 
No, my good Lord, my friends are in the North.  Rich. 
Cold friends to me: what do they in the North,  
When they should serve their Sovereign in the West?  Stan. 
They have not been commanded, mighty King:  
Pleaseth your Majesty to give me leave,  
I'll muster up my friends, and meet your Grace,  
Where, and what time your Majesty shall please.  Rich. 
I, thou wouldst be gone, to join with Richmond:  
But I'll not trust thee.  Stan. 
Most mighty Sovereign,  
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful,  
I never was, nor never will be false.  Rich. 
Go then, and muster men: but leave behind  
Your Son George Stanley: look your heart be firm,  
Or else his Heads assurance is but frail.  Stan. 
So deal with him, as I prove true to you.  Exit Stanley. Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
My gracious Sovereign, now in Devonshire,  
As I by friends am well advertised,  
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty Prelate,  
Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,  
With many more Confederates, are in Arms.  Enter another Messenger. Mess. 
In Kent, my Liege, the Guildfords are in Arms,  
And every hour more Competitors  
Flock to the Rebels, and their power grows strong.  Enter another Messenger. Mess. 
My Lord, the Army of great Buckingham.  Rich. 
Out on ye, Owls, nothing but Songs of Death,  He striketh him. 
There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.  Mess. 
The news I have to tell your Majesty,  
Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters,  
Buckingham's Army is dispersed and scattered,  
And he himself wandered away alone,  
No man knows whither.  Rich. 
I cry thee mercy:  
There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine.  
Hath any well-aduised friend proclaimed  
Reward to him that brings the Traitor in?  Mess. 
Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.  Enter another Messenger. Mess. 
Sir Thomas Lovel, and Lord marquis Dorset,  
'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkshire are in Arms:  
But this good comfort bring I to your Highness,  
The Britain Navy is dispersed by Tempest.  
Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat  
Unto the shore, to ask those on the Banks,  
If they were his Assistants, yea, or no?  
Who answered him, they came from Buckingham,  
Upon his party: he mistrusting them,  
Hoist sail, and made his course again for Britain.  Rich. 
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.  Enter Catesby. Cat. 
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 News, but yet they must be told.  Rich. 
Away towards Salisbury, while we reason here,  
A Royal batteil might be won and lost:  
Some one take order Buckingham be brought  
To Salisbury, the rest march on with me.  Flourish. Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher. Der. 
Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,  
That in the sty of the most deadly Boar,  
My Son George Stanley is frankt up in hold:  
If I revolt, off goes young George's head,  
The fear of that, holds off my present aid.  
So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord.  
Withal say, that the Queen hath hearty consented  
He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter.  
But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?  Chri. 
At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales.  Der. 
What men of Name resort to him.  Chri, 
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 other of great name and worth:  
And towards London do they bend their power,  
If by the way they be not fought withal.  Der. 
Well hie thee to thy Lord: I kiss his hand,  
My Letter will resolve him of my mind.  
Farewell.  Exeunt   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution. Buc. 
Will not King Richard let me speak with him?  Sher. 
No my good Lord, therefore be patiented.  Buc. 
Hastings, and Edward's children, Gray & Rivers,  
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 Allsoules day (Fellow) is it not?  Sher. 
It is.  Buc. 
Why then Alsoules day, is my body's doomsday  
This is the day, which in King Edward's time  
I wished might fall on me, when I was found  
False to his Children, and his Wife's Allies.  
This is the day, wherein I wished to fall  
By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted.  
This, this Allsoules day to my fearful Soul,  
Is the determined respite of my wrongs:  
That high All-seer, which I dallied with,  
Hath turned my feigned Prayer on my head,  
And given in earnest, what I begged in jest.  
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men  
To turn their own points in their Master's bosoms.  
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck:  
When he (quoth she) shall split thy heart with sorrow,  
Remember Margaret was a Prophetess:  
Come lead me Officers to the block of shame,  
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.  Exeunt Buckingham with Officers.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum and colours. Richm 
Fellows in Arms, and my most loving Friends  
Bruised underneath the yoke of Tyranny,  
Thus fare into the bowels of the Land,  
Have we marched on without impediment;  
And here receive we from our Father Stanley  
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement:  
The wretched, bloody, and usurping Boar,  
(That spoiled your Summer Fields, and fruitful Vines)  
Swills your warm blood like wash, & makes his trough  
In your embowelled bosoms: This foul Swine  
Is now even in the Sentry of this Isle,  
ne'er to the Town of Leicester, as we learn:  
From Tamworth thither, is but one days march.  
In God's name cheerly on, courageous Friends,  
To reap the Harvest of perpetual peace,  
By this one bloody trial of sharp War.  Oxf. 
Every man's Conscience is a thousand men,  
To sight against this guilty Homicide.  Her. 
I doubt not but his Friends will turn to us.  Blunt. 
He hath no friends, but what are friends for fear,  
Which in his dearest need will fly from him.  Richm. 
All for our vantage, then in God's name march,  
True Hope is swift, and flies with Swallows wings,  
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.  Exeunt Omnes. Enter King Richard in Arms, with Norfolk, Ratcliff, and the Earl of Surrey. Rich. 
Here pitch our Tent, even here in Bosworth field,  
My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?  Sur. 
My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.  Rich. 
My Lord of Norfolk.  Nor. 
here most gracious Liege.  Rich. 
Norfolk, we must have knocks:  
Ha', must we not?  Nor. 
We must both give and take my loving Lord.  Rich. 
up with my Tent, here will I lie to night,  
But where to morrow? Well, all's one for that  
Who hath descried the number of the Traitors?  Nor. 
Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.  Rich. 
Why our Battalia trebles that account:  
Besides, the King's name is a Tower of strength,  
Which they upon the adverse Faction want.  
up with the Tent: Come Noble Gentlemen,  
Let us survey the vantage of the ground.  
Call for some men of found direction:  
Let's lack no Discipline, make no delay,  
For Lords, to morrow is a busy day.  Exeunt Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorset. Richm. 
The weary Sun, hath made a Golden set,  
And by the bright Tract of his fiery Car,  
Gives token 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 Power.  
My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon,  
And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me:  
The Earl of Pembroke keeps his Regiment;  
Good Captain Blunt, bear my goodnight to him.  
And by the second hour in the Morning,  
Desire the Earl to see me in my Tent:  
Yet one thing more (good Captain) do for me:  
Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you 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.  Richm. 
If without peril it be possible,  
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him  
And give him from me, this most needful Note.  Blunt. 
Upon my life, my Lord, I'll undertake it,  
And so God give you quiet rest to night.  Richm. 
Good night good Captain Blunt:  
Come Gentlemen,  
Let us consult upon to morrow's Business;  
Into my Tent, the Dew is raw and cold.  They withdraw into the Tent. Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolk, & Catesby. Rich. 
What is't a Clock?  Cat. 
It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clock.  King. 
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?  Cat. 
It is my Liege: and all things are in readiness.  Rich. 
Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge,  
Use careful Watch, choose trusty Sentinels,  Nor. 
I go my Lord.  Rich. 
S●ir with the Lark to morrow, gentle Norfolk.  Nor. 
I warrant you my Lord.  Exit Rich. 
Ratcliff.  Rat. 
My Lord.  Rich. 
Send out a Pursuivant at Arms  
To Stanleys' Regiment: bid him bring his power  
Before Sunrising, lest his Son George fall  
Into the blind Cave of eternal night.  
Fill me a Bowl of Wine: Give me a Watch,  
Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow:  
Look that my Staffs be sound, & not too heavy.  Ratcliff. Rat. 
My Lord.  Rich. 
Saw'st the melancholy Lord Northumberland?  Rat. 
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. 
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?  Rat. 
It is my Lord.  Rich. 
Bid my Guard watch. Leave me.  
Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent  
And help to arm me. Leave me I say.  Exit Ratclif. Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent. Der. 
Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helm.  Rich. 
All comfort that the dark night can afford,  
Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law.  
Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother?  Der. 
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 th' 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 sundered Friends should dwell upon:  
God give us leisure for these rites of Love..  
Once more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well.  Richm. 
Good Lords conduct him to his Regiment:  
I'll strive with troubled noise, 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. Manet 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,  
Th' usurping Helmets of our Adversaries:  
Make us thy ministers of Chastisement,  
That we may praise thee in thy victory:  
To thee I do commend my watchful soul,  
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eves:  
Sleeping, and waking, oh defend me still.  Sleeps. Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, Son to Henry the sixth. Gh. to Ri. 
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to morrow:  
Think how thou stabbedst me in my prime of youth  
At Teukesbury: Despair therefore, and dye.  Ghost to Richm. 
Be cheerful Richmond,  
For the wronged Souls  
Of butchered Princes, fight in thy behalf:  
King Henry's issue Richmond comforts thee.  Enter the Ghost of Henry the sixth. Ghost. 
When I was mortal, my Anointed body  
By thee was punched full of holes;  
Think on the Tower, and me: Despair, and dye,  
Harry the sixth, bids thee despair, and dye.  To Richm. 
Virtuous and holy be thou Conqueror:  
Harry that prophesied thou shouldst be King,  
Doth comfort thee in sleep: Live, and flourish.  Enter the Ghost of Clarence. Ghost. 
Let me sit heavy in thy soul to morrow.  
I that was washed to death with Fulsome Wine:  
Poor Clarence by thy guile betrayed to death:  
To morrow in the battle think on me,  
And fall thy edgelesse Sword, despair and dye.  To Richm. 
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. Riu. 
Let me sit heavy in thy soul to morrow,  
Rivers, that died at Pomfret: despair, and dye.  Grey. 
Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair.  Vaugh. 
Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear  
Let fall thy Lance, despair and dye.  All to Richm. 
Awake,  
And think our wrongs in Richard's Bosom,  
Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day.  Enter the Ghost of Lord Hastings. Gho. 
Bloody and guilty: guiltily awake,  
And in a bloody Battle end thy days.  
Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and dye.  Hast. to Rich. 
Quiet untroubled soul,  
Awake, awake:  
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake.  Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes. Ghosts. 
Dream on thy Cousins  
Smothered in the Tower:  
Let us be laid within thy bosom Richard,  
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death,  
Thy Nephew's soul bids thee despair and dye.  Ghosts to Richm. 
Sleep Richmond,  
Sleep in Peace, and wake in joy,  
Good Angels guard thee from the Boars annoy,  
Live, and be get a happy race of Kings,  
Edward's unhappy Sons, do bid thee flourish.  Enter the Ghost of Anne, his Wife. Ghost to Rich. 
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 edgelesse Sword, despair and dye.  Ghost to Richm. 
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 to Rich. 
The first was I  
That helped thee to the Crown:  
The last was I that felt thy Tyranny.  
O, in the Battle think on Buckingham,  
And dye in terror of thy guiltiness.  
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death,  
Fainting despair; despairing yield thy breath.  Ghost to Richm. 
I died for hope  
Ere I could lend thee Aid;  
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismayed:  
God, and good Angels fight on Richmond's side,  
And Richard fall in height of all his pride.  Richard starts out of his dream. Rich. 
Give me another Horse, bind up my Wounds:  
Have mercy jesus. Soft, I did but dream.  
O coward Conscience! how dost thou afflict me?  
The Lights burn blue. It is not dead midnight.  
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.  
What? do I fear myself? There's none else by,  
Richard love's 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, in the highest Degree,  
Murder, stern murder, in the dyr'st degree,  
All several sins, all us d in each degree,  
Throng all to ' th' Bar, crying all, Guilty, Guilty.  
I shall despair, there is no Creature love's 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.  
Me thought, the Souls of all that I had murdered  
Came to my Tent, and every one did threat  
To morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.  Enter Ratcliffe. Rat. 
My Lord.  King. 
Who's there?  Rat. 
Ratcliffe 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. 
O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear.  Rat. 
Nay good my Lord, be not afraid of Shadows.  King. 
By the Apostle Paul, shadows to night  
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,  
Then can the substance of ten thousand Soldiers  
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond▪  
'Tis not yet near day. Come go with me,  
Under our Tents I'll play the Ease-dropper,  
To hear if any mean to shrink from me.  Exeunt Richard & Ratcliffe, Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his Tent. Richm. 
Good morrow Richmond.  Rich. 
Cry mercy Lords▪ and watchful Gentlemen,  
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here?  Lords. 
How have you slept my Lord?  Rich. 
The sweetest sleep,  
And fairest boding Dreams,  
That ever entered in a drowsy head,  
Have I since your departure had my Lords.  
Me thought their Souls, whose bodies Rich. murdered,  
Came to my Tent, and cried on Victory:  
I promise you my Heart is very jocund,  
In the remembrance of so fair a dream,  
How fare into the Morning is it Lords?  Lor. 
Upon the stroke of four.  Rich. 
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 reared Bulwarks, stand before our Faces,  
(Richard except) those whom we fight against,  
Had rather have us win, then 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 established;  
One that made means to come by what he hath,  
And slaughtered those that were the means to help him:  
A base foul Stone, made precious by the soil  
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 swear 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 quits 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 Corpses 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.  Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Catesby. K. 
What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?  Rat. 
That he was never trained up in Arms.  King. 
He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?  Rat. 
He smiled and said, the better for our purpose.  King. 
He was in the right, and so indeed it is.  
Tell the clock there.  Clock strikes. 
Give me a Calendar: Who saw the Sun to day?  Rat. 
Not I my Lord.  King. 
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.  Rat. 
My Lord.  King. 
The Sun will not be seen to day,  
The sky doth frown, and lower 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. Nor. 
Arm, arm, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field.  King. 
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 Forward shall be drawn 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 the Foot and Horse.  
They thus directed, we will fllow  
In the main Battle, whose puissance on either side  
Shall be well-winged with our chiefest Horse:  
This, and Saint George to boot.  
What thinkest thou Norfolk.  Nor. 
A good direction warlike Sovereign,  
This found I on my Tent this Morning.  
jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold,  
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.  King. 
A thing devised by the Enemy.  
Go Gentlemen, every man to his Charge,  
Let not our babbling Dreams affright our souls:  
For Conscience is 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 too't pell mell,  
If not to heaven, than hand in hand to Hell.  
What shall I say more than I have inferred?  
Remember whom you are to cope withal,  
A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and Runaways,  
A scum of Britons, and base Lackey Peasants,  
Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth  
To desperate Adventures, and assured Destruction.  
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest:  
You having Lands, and blessed with beauteous wives,  
They would restrain the one, distain the other,  
And who doth lead them, but a paltry Fellow?  
Long kept in Britain at our Mother's cost,  
A Milksop, 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 famished Beggars, weary of their lives,  
Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploit)  
For want of means (poor Rats) had hanged themselves.  
If we be conquered, let men conquer us,  
And not these bastard Britain's, whom our Fathers  
Have in their own Land beaten, bobbed, and thumped,  
And on 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,  
Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen,  
Draw Archers draw your Arrows to the head,  
Spur your proud Horses hard, and ●ide in blood,  
Amaze the welkin with your broken staffs.  Enter a Messenger. 
What says Lord Stanley, will he bring his power?  Mes. 
My Lord, he doth deny to come.  King. 
Off with his son George's head.  Nor. 
My Lord, the Enemy is passed the Mars●:  
After the battle, let George Stanley dye.  King. 
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.  
Advance our Standards, set upon our Foes,  
Our Ancient word of Courage, fair S. George  
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery Dragons:  
Upon them, Victory sits on our helps.  Alarm, excursions. Enter Catesby. Cat. 
Rescue my Lord of Norfolk,  
Rescue, Rescue:  
The King enacts more wonders then 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.  Alarms. Enter Richard. Rich. 
A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdom for a Horse.  Cates. 
Withdraw my Lord, I'll help you to a Horse  Rich. 
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, in stead of him.  
A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdom for a Horse.  Alarm, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is slain. Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crown, with diverse other Lords. Richm. 
God, and your Arms  
Be praised Victorious Friends;  
The day is ours, the bloody Dog is dead.  Der. 
Courageous Richmond,  
Well hast thou acquit thee: Lo,  
here these long usurped Royalties,  
From the dead Temples of this bloody Wretch,  
Have I plucked off, to grace thy Brows withal.  
Wear it, and make much of it.  Richm. 
Great God of Heaven, say Amen to all.  
But tell me, is young George Stanley living?  Der. 
He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester Town,  
Wither (if you please) we may withdraw us.  Richm. 
What men of name are slain on either side?  Der. 
john Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferris, Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William Brandon.  Richm. 
Inter their Bodies, as become 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 frowned upon their Enmity:  
What Traitor hears me, and says not Amen?  
England hath long been mad, and scared herself;  
The Brother blindly shed the Brother's blood;  
The Father, rashly slaughtered his own Son;  
The Son compelled, 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 thy Heirs (God if thy will be so)  
every 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 Lands increase,  
That would with Treason, wound this fair Lands peace.  
Now Civil wounds are stopped, Peace life's again;  
That she may long live here, God say, Amen.  Exeunt   
FINIS.   

The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight.  
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 intent,  
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. Th●nkeye see  
The very Persons of our Noble Story,  
As they were Living: Think you see them Great,  
And followed 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.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter the Duke of Norfolk at one door. At the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgavenny. Buckingham. 
GOod morrow, and well met. How have ye done  
Since last we saw in France?  Norf. 
I thank your Grace:  
Healthful, and ever since a fresh Admirer  
Of what I saw there.  Buck. 
An untimely Ague  
Stayed me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when  
Those Suns of Glory, those two Lights of Men  
Met in the vale of Andren.  Nor. 
'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 weighed  
Such a compounded one?  Buck. 
All the whole time  
I was my Chambers Prisoner.  Nor. 
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, it's. 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,  
Showed like a Mine▪ Their Dwarfish Pages were  
As Cherubins, all gilt: 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 Mask  
Was cried incompareable; and th' 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 thoughts Compass, that former fabulous Story  
Being now seen, possible enough, got credit  
That Bevis was believed.  Buc. 
Oh you go fare.  Nor. 
As I belong to worship, and affect  
In Honour, Honesty, the tract of every thing,  
Would by a good Discourser lose some life,  
Which Actions self, was tongue too.  Buc. 
All was Royal,  
To the disposing of it nought rebelled,  
Order gave each thing view. The Office did  
Distinctly his full Function: who did guide,  
I mean who set the Body, and the Limbs  
Of this great Sport together?  Nor. 
As you guess:  
One certes, that promises no Element  
In such a business.  Buc. 
I pray you who, my Lord?  Nor. 
All this was ordered by the good Discretion  
Of the right Reverend Cardinal of York.  Buc. 
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' th' beneficial Sun,  
And keep it from the Earth.  Nor. 
Surely Sir,  
There's in him stuff, that put's him to these ends:  
For being not propped by Auncestry, whose grace  
Chalks Successors their way; nor called upon  
For high feats done to ' th' Crown; neither Allied  
To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like  
Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O 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.  Abur. 
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 gins  
A new Hell in himself.  Buc. 
Why the Devil,  
Upon this French going out, took he upon him  
(Without the privity o' th' King) t'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, he Papers.  Abur. 
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.  Buc. 
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.  Nor. 
Greevingly I think,  
The Peace between the French and us, not values  
The Cost that did conclude it.  Buc. 
Every man,  
After the hideous storm that followed, was  
A thing Inspired, and not consulting, broke  
Into a general Prophecy; That this Tempest  
Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded  
The sudden breach on't.  Nor. 
Which is budded out,  
For France hath flawed the League, and hath attached  
Our Merchant's goods at Bordeaux.  Abur. 
Is it therefore?  
Th' Ambassador is silenced?  Nor. 
Marry is't.  Abur. 
A proper Title of a Peace, and purchased  
At a superfluous rate.  Buc. 
Why all this Business  
Our Reverend Cardinal carried.  Nor. 
Like it your Grace,  
The State takes notice of the private difference  
Betwixt you, and the Cardinal. I advice 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, an't may be said  
It reaches fare, 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 advice your shunning.  Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinal in his passage, fixeth his eye on Buckham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain. Car. 
The Duke of Buckingham's Surveyor? Ha'?  
Where's his Examination?  Secretary 
here so please you.  Car. 
Is he in person, ready?  Secretary 
I, please your Grace.  Car. 
Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham  
Shall lessen this big look.  〈◊〉 Exeunt Cardinal, and his Train. Buc. 
This Butcher's Cur is venom'd-mouthed, and I  
Have not the power to muzzle him, therefore best  
Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggar's book,  
Out-worths a Nobles blood.  Nor. 
What are you chaffed?  
Ask God for Temperance, that's th' appliance only  
Which your disease requires.  Buc. 
I read in's looks  
Matter against me, and his eye reviled  
Me as his abject object, at this instant  
He boreas me with some trick; He's gone to ' th' King:  
I'll follow, and outstare him.  Nor. 
Stay my Lord,  
And let your Reason with your Choler question  
What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills  
Requires flow pace at first. Anger is like  
A full hot Horse, who being allowed his way  
Selfe-mettle tires him: Not a man in England  
Can advice me like you: Be to yourself,  
As you would to your Friend.  Buc. 
I'll to the King,  
And from a mouth of Honour, quite cry down  
This Ipswich fellows insolence; or proclaim,  
There's difference in no persons.  Norf. 
Be advised;  
Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot  
That it do sing yourself. We may outrun  
By violent swiftness that which we run at;  
And lose by overrunning: know you not,  
The fire that mounts the liquor till't run over,  
In seeming to augment it, wastes it: be advised;  
I say again there is no English Soul  
More stronger to direct you then yourself;  
If with the sap of reason you would quench,  
Or but allay the fire of passion.  Buck. 
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.  Norf. 
Say not treasonous.  Buck. 
To th' King I'll say't, & 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 performed) 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: Th' interview,  
That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glass  
Did break i'th' wrenching.  Norf. 
Faith, and so it did.  Buck. 
Pray give me favour Sir: This cunning Cardinal  
The Articles o' th' Combination drew  
As himself pleased; and they were ratified  
As he cried thus let be, to as much end,  
As give a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall  
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 th' 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,  
Peeped harms that menaced him. Privily  
Deals with our Cardinal, and as I troa  
Which I do well; for I am sure the Emperor  
Paid ere he promised, whereby his Suit was granted  
Ere it was asked. But when the way was made  
And paved with gold: the Emperor thus desired,  
Tha● 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.  Norf. 
I am sorry  
To hear this of him; and could wish he were  
Something mistaken in't.  Buck. 
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 there of the Guard. Brandon. 
Your Office Sergeant: execute it.  Sergeant. 
Sir,  
My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl  
Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I  
Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name  
Of our most Sovereign King.  Buck. 
Lo you my Lord,  
The net has fall'n upon me, I shall perish  
Under device, and practise:  Bran. 
I am sorry,  
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on  
The business present. 'tis his Highness' pleasure  
You shall to th' Tower.  Buck. 
It will help me nothing  
To plead mine Innocence; for that die 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 Aburgany: Far you well.  Bran. 
Nay, he must bear you company. The King  
Is pleased you shall to th' Tower, till you know  
How he determines further.  Abur. 
As the Duke said,  
The will of Heaven be done, and the King's pleasure  
By me obeyed.  Bran. 
Here is a warrant from  
The King, t'attach Lord Montacute, and the Bodies  
Of the Duke's Confessor, john de la Car,  
One Gilbert Peck, his Counsellor.  Buck. 
So, so;  
These are the limbs o' th' Plot: no more I hope.  Bra. 
A Monk o' th' Chartreux.  Buck▪ 
O Michael Hopkins?  Bra. 
He.  Buck. 
My Surveyor is false: The ore-great Cardinal  
Hath showed him gold; my life is spanned already:  
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,  
Whose Figure even this instant Cloud puts on,  
By Darkening my clear Sun. My Lords farewell.  Exe.  

Scena Secunda.  Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovel: the Cardinal places himself under the King's feet on his right side. King. 
My life itself, and the best heart of it,  
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' th' level  
Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thankes  
To you that choked it. Let be called 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, ushered by the Duke of Norfolk. Enter the Queen, Norfolk and Suffolk: she knelt. King riseth from his State, takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him. Queen. 
Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a Suitor.  King. 
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. 
Thank your Majesty  
That you would love yourself, and in that love  
Not unconsidered leave your Honour, nor  
The dignity of your Office; is the point  
Of my Petition.  Kin. 
Lady mine proceed.  Queen. 
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 flawed the heart  
Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although  
My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches  
Most bitterly on you, as butter 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.  Norf. 
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, Fuller's, Weavers, who  
Unfit for other life, compelled by hunger  
And lack of other means, in desperate manner  
Daring th' event too th' teeth, are all in uproar,  
And danger serves among them.  Kin. 
Taxation?  
Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinal,  
You that are blamed for it alike with us,  
Know you of this Taxation?  Card. 
Please you Sir,  
I know but of a single part in aught  
Pertains to th' State▪ and front but in that File  
Where others tell steps with me.  Queen. 
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 th' hearing, and to bear 'em,  
The Back is Sacrifice to th' load; They say  
They are devised by you, er else you suffer  
Too hard an exclamation.  Kin. 
Still Exaction:  
The nature of it, in what kind let's know,  
Is this Exaction?  Queen. 
I am much too venturous  
In tempting of your patience; but am boldened  
Under your promised pardon. The Subject's grief  
Comes through Commissions, which compels 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 baseness.  Kin. 
By my life,  
This is against our pleasure.  Card. 
And for me,  
I have no further gone in this, then by  
A single voice, and that not passed 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 trimmed; but benefit no further  
Then vainly longing. What we oft do best,  
By sick Interpreters (once weak ones) is  
Not ours, or not allowed; 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 mocked, or carped at,  
We should take root here, where we sit;  
Or sit State-Statues only.  Kin. 
Things done well,  
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear:  
Things done without example, in their issue  
Are to be feared. 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' th' Timber:  
And though we leave it with a root thus hacked,  
The Air will drink the Sap. To every County  
Where this is questioned, send our Letters, with  
Free pardon to each man that has denied  
The force of this Commission: pray look too't;  
I put it to your care.  Card. 
A word with you.  
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 come: I shall anon advice you  
Further in the proceeding.  Exit Secret. Enter Surveyor. Queen. 
I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham  
Is run in your displeasure.  Kin. 
It grieves many:  
The Gentleman is Learned, 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 enrolled 'mongst wonders; and when we  
Almost with ravished 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 besmeared in hell. Sat by Us, you shall hear  
(This was his Gentleman in trust) of him  
Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount  
The forerecited practices, whereof  
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.  Card. 
Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you  
Most like a careful Subject have collected  
Out of the Duke of Buckingham.  Kin. 
Speak freely.  Sur. 
First, it was usual with him; every day  
It would infect his Speech: That if the King  
Should without issue dye; he'll carry it so  
To make the Sceptre his. These very words  
I've heard him utter to his Son in Law,  
Lord Aburgany, to whom by o'th' he menaced  
Revenge upon the Cardinal.  Card. 
Please your Highness' note  
This dangerous conception in this point,  
Not friended by his wish to your High person;  
His will is most malignant, and it stretches  
Beyond you to your friends.  Queen. 
My learned Lord Cardinal,  
Deliver all with Charity.  Kin. 
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?  Sur. 
He was brought to this,  
By a vain Prophecy of Nicholas Henton.  Kin. 
What was that Henton?  Sur. 
Sir, a Chartreux Friar,  
His Confessor, who fed him every minute  
With words of Sovereignty.  Kin. 
How knowst thou this?  Sur. 
Not long before your Highness sped to France,  
The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish  
Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand  
What was the speech among the Londoners,  
Concerning the French journey. I replied,  
Men fear 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 Commissions 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 ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heirs  
(Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him strive  
To the love o' th' Commonalty, the Duke  
Shall govern England.  Queen. 
If I know you well,  
You were the Duke's Surveyor, and lost your Office  
On the complaint o' th' Tenants; take good heed  
You charge not in your spleen a Noble person,  
And spoil your nobler Soul; I say, take heed;  
Yes, hearty beseech you.  Kin. 
Let him on: Go forward.  Sur. 
On my Soul, I'll speak but truth.  
I told my Lord the Duke, by th' Devil's illusions  
The Monk might be deceived, and that 'twas dangerous  
For this to ruminate on this so fare, until  
It forged him some design, which being believed  
It was much like to do: He answered, Tush,  
It can do me no damage; adding further,  
That had the King in his last Sickness failed,  
The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Lovels heads  
Should have gone off.  Kin. 
Ha'? What, so rank? Ah, ha',  
There's mischief in this man; canst thou say further?  Sur. 
I can my Liege.  Kin. 
Proceed.  Sur. 
Being at Greenwich.  
After your Highness had reproved the Duke  
About Sir William Bulmer.  Kin. 
I remember of such a time, being my sworn servant,  
The Duke retained him his. But on: what hence?  Sur. 
If (quoth he) I for this had been committed,  
As to the Tower, I thought; I would have played  
The Part my Father meant to act upon  
Th' 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 into him.  Kin. 
A Giant Traitor.  Card. 
Now Madam, may his Highness live in freedom,  
And this man out of Prison.  Queen. 
God mend all.  Kin. 
there's something more would out of thee; what sayest?  Sur. 
After the Duke his Father, with the knife  
He stretched 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.  Kin. 
There's his period,  
To sheathe his knife in us: he is attached,  
Call him to present trial: if he may  
Find mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none,  
Let him not seeked of us; By day and night  
he's Traitor to th' height.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter L. Chamberlain and L. Sandys. L. Ch. 
Is't possible the spells of France should juggle  
Men into such strange mysteries?  L. San. 
New customs,  
Though they be never so ridiculous,  
(Nay let 'em be unmanly) yet are followed.  L. Ch. 
As fare as I see, all the good our English  
Have got by the late Voyage, is but merely  
A fit or two o' th' 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.  L. San. 
They have all new legs,  
And lame ones; one would take it,  
That never see 'em place before, the Spaven  
A Spring-halt reigned among 'em.  L. Ch. 
Death my Lord,  
Their clothes are after such a Pagan cut too't,  
That sure th' have worn out Christendom: how now?  
What news, Sir Thomas Lovel?  Enter Sir Thomas Lovel. Lovel. 
Faith my Lord,  
I hear of none but the new Proclamation,  
That's clapped upon the Court Gate.  L. Cham. 
What is't for?  Lou. 
The reformation of our travelled Gallants,  
That fill the Court with quarrels, talk, and Tailors.  L. Cham. 
I'm glad 'tis there;  
Now I would pray our Monsieurs  
To think an English Courtier may be wise,  
And never see the Lonure.  Lou▪ 
They must either  
(For so run the Conditions) leave those remnants  
Of Fool and Feather, that they got in France,  
With all their honourable points 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 blistered 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 Praulegio, we away  
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laughed at.  L. San. 
'tis time to give 'em Physic, their diseases  
Are grown so catching.  L. Cham 
What a loss our Ladies  
Will have of these trim vanities?  Lovel. 
I 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.  L. San. 
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 plain song,  
And have an hour of hearing, and by't Lady  
Held currant Music too.  L. Cham. 
Well said Lord Sands,  
Your Colt's tooth is not cast yet?  L. San. 
No my Lord,  
Nor shall not while I have a stump.  L. Cham. 
Sir Thomas,  
Whither were you a going?  Lou. 
To the Cardinals;  
Your Lordship is a guest too.  L. Cham. 
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.  Lou. 
That Churchman  
Bears a bounteous mind indeed,  
A hand as fruitful as the Land that feeds us,  
His dews fall every where.  L. Cham. 
No doubt he's Noble;  
He had a black mouth that said other of him.  L. San. 
He may my Lord,  
Has wherewithal in him;  
Sparing would show a worse sin, then ill Doctrine,  
Men of his way, should be most liberal,  
They are set here for examples.  L. Cham. 
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 Guilford  
This night to be Comptrollers.  L. San. 
I am your Lordships.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Oboes. A small Table under a State for the Cardinal, a longer Table for the Guests. Than Enter Anne Bullen, and diverse other Ladies, & Gentlemen, as Guests at one Door; at an other Door enter Sir Henry Guildford. S. Hen. Guilf. 
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.  Enter L. Chamberlain L. Sands and Lovel. 
O my Lord, ye are tardy;  
The very thought of this fair Company,  
Clapped wings to me.  Cham. 
You are young Sir Harry Guildford▪  San. 
Sir Thomas Lovel, 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.  Lou. 
O that your Lordship were but now Confessor,  
To one or two of these.  San. 
I would I were,  
They should find easy penance.  Lou. 
Faith how easy?  San. 
As easy as a down bed would afford it.  Cham. 
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.  〈◊〉 San. 
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.  An. Bul. 
Was he mad Sir?  San. 
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.  Cham. 
Well said my Lord:  
So now ye are fairly seated: Gntlemen,  
The penance lies on you; if these fair Ladies  
Pass away frowning.  San. 
For my little Cure,  
Let me alone.  Oboes. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his State. Card 
YE are 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.  San. 
Your Grace is Noble,  
Let me have such a Bowl may hold my thankes.  
And save me so much talking.  Card. 
My Lord Sands,  
I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours:  
Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen,  
Whose fault is this?  San. 
The red wine first must rise  
In their fair cheeks my Lord, than we shall have 'em,  
Talk us to silence.  An. B. 
You are a merry Gamester  
My Lord Sands.  San. 
Yes, if I make my play:  
here's to your Ladyship, and pledge it Madam:  
For 'tis to such a thing.  An. B. 
You cannot show me.  Drum and Trumpet, Chambers discharged. San. 
I told your Grace, they would talk anon.  Card. 
What's that?  Cham. 
Look out there, some of ye.  Card. 
What warlike voice,  
And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, fear not;  
By all the laws of War ye are privileged.  Enter a Servant. Cham. 
How now, what is't?  Seru. 
A noble troop of Strangers,  
For so they seem; th' have left their Barge and landed,  
And hither make, as great Ambassadors  
From foreign Princes.  Card. 
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.  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.  Oboes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like Shepherds, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him. 
A noble Company: what are their pleasures?  Cham. 
Because they speak no English, thus they prayed  
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.  Card. 
Say, Lord Chamberlain,  
They have done my poor house grace:  
For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes,  
And pray 'em take their pleasures.  Choose Ladies, King and a Bullen. King. 
The fairest hand I ever touched: O Beauty,  
Till now I never knew thee.  Music, Dance. Card. 
My Lord.  Cham. 
Your Grace.  Card. 
Pray tell 'em thus much from me:  
There should be one amongst 'em by his person  
More worthy this place then myself, to whom  
(If I but knew him) with my love and duty  
I would surrender it.  Whisper. Cham. 
I will my Lord.  Card. 
What say they?  Cham. 
Such a one, they all confess  
There is indeed, which they would have your Grace  
Find out, and he will take it.  Card. 
Let me see then,  
By all your good leaves Gentlemen; here I'll make  
My royal choice.  Kin. 
Ye have found him Cardinal,  
You hold a fair Assembly; you do well Lord:  
You are a Churchman, or I'll tell you Cardinal,  
I should judge now unhappily.  Card. 
I am glad  
Your Grace is grown so pleasant.  Kin. 
My Lord Chamberlain,  
Prithee come hither, what fair lady's that?  Cham. 
An't please your Grace,  
Sir Thomas Boulogne's Daughter, the Viscount Rochfort,▪  
One of her Highness' women.  Kin. 
By Heaven she is a dainty one. Sweet heart,  
I were unmannerly to take you out,  
And not to kiss you. A health Gentlemen,  
Let it go round.  Card. 
Sir Thomas Lovel, is the Banquet ready  
I' th' Privy Chamber?  Lou. 
Yes, my Lord.  Card. 
Your Grace  
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.  Kin. 
I fear too much.  Card. 
There's fresher air my Lord,  
In the next Chamber.  Kin. 
Led 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.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter two Gentlemen at several Doors. 1. 
Whether away so fast?  2. 
O, God save ye:  
Even to the Hall, to hear what shall become  
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.  1. 
I'll save you  
That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony  
Of bringing back the Prisoner.  2. 
Were you there?  1. 
Yes indeed was I.  2. 
Pray speak what has happened.  1. 
You may guess quickly what.  2. 
Is he found guilty?  1. 
Yes truly is he,  
And condemned upon't.  2. 
I am sorry for't.  1. 
So are a number more.  2. 
But pray how past it?  1. 
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 diverse witnesses, which the Duke desired  
To him brought vina voce to his face;  
At which appeared against him, his Surveyor  
Sir Gilbert Peck his Chancellor, and john Car,  
Confessor to him, with that Devil Monk,  
Hopkins, that made this mischief.  2. 
That was he  
That fed him with his Prophecies.  1. 
The same,  
All these accused him strongly, which ●e fain  
Would have fling 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.  2. 
After all this, how did he bear himself?  ●. 
When he was brought again to th' Bar, to hear  
His Knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirred  
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 showed a most Noble patience,  2. 
I do not think he fears death.  1. 
Sure he does not,  
He never was so womanish, the cause  
He may a little grieve at.  2. 
Certainly,  
The Cardinal is the end of this.  1. 
'tis likely,  
By all conjectures: First Kildares Attendure;  
Then Deputy of Ireland, who removed  
Earl Surrey, was sent thither, and in haste too,  
Lest he should help his Father.  2. 
That trick of State  
Was a deep envious one,  1. 
At his return,  
No doubt he will requite it; this is noted  
(And generally) who ever the King favours,  
The Cardinal instantly will find employment,  
And fare enough from Court too.  2. 
All the Commons  
Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience  
Wish him ten faddom deep: This Duke as much  
They love and dote on: call him bounteous Buckingham,  
The Mirror of all courtesy.  Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaffs before him, the Axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovel, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, etc. 1. 
Stay there Sir,  
And see the noble ruined man you speak of.  2. 
Let's stand close and behold him.  Buck 
All good people,  
You that thus fare have come to pity me;  
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.  
I have this day received a Traitor's judgement,  
And by that name must dye; 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 hearty forgiue'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.  
Led on a God's name.  Lovel. 
I do beseech your Grace, for charity  
If ever any malice in your heart  
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.  Buck. 
Sir Thomas Lovel, 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 make 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 Kings; 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.  Lou. 
To th' 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.  Buck. 
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 succour to his Servant Banister,  
Being distressed; was by that wretch betrayed,  
And without Trial, fell; God's peace be with him.  
Henry the Seaventh 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 Eight, 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 fare 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 lose; 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 Duke and Train. 1. 
O, this is full of pity; Sir, it calls  
I fear, too many curses on their heads  
That were the Authors.  2. 
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.  1. 
Good Angels keep it from us:  
What may it be? you do not doubt my faith Sir?  2. 
This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require  
A strong faith to conceal it.  1. 
Let me have it:  
I do not talk much.  2. 
I am confident;  
You shall Sir: Did you not of late days hear  
A buzzing of a Separation  
Between the King and Katherine?  1. 
Yes, but it held not;  
For when the King once heard it, out of anger  
He sent command to the Lord Mayor strait  
To stop the rumour; and allay those tongues  
That durst disperse it.  2. 
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▪ possessed him with a scruple  
That will undo her: To confirm this too,  
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately,  
As all think for this business.  1. 
'tis the Cardinal;  
And merely to revenge him on the Emperor,  
For not bestowing on him at his ask,  
The bishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.  2. 
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.  1. 
'Tis woeful.  
We are too open here to argue this:  
Let's think in private more.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Lord Chamberlain, reading this Letter. 
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 Cardinals, 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 the Lord Chamberlain, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. Norf. 
Well met my Lord Chamberlain.  Cham. 
Good day to both your Graces.  Suff. 
How is the King employed?  Cham. 
I left him private,  
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.  Norf. 
What's the cause?  Cham. 
It seems the Marriage with his Brother's Wife  
Has crept too near his Conscience.  Suff. 
No, his Conscience  
Has crept too near another Lady.  Norf. 
'tis so;  
This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall,  
That blind Priest, like the eldest Son of Fortune,  
Turns what he list. The King will know him one day.  Suff. 
Pray God he do,  
he'll never know himself else.  Norf. 
How holily he works in all his business,  
And with what zeal? For now he has cracked the League  
Between us & the Emperor (the Queen's great Nephew)  
He diues into the King's Soul, and there scatters  
Dangers, doubts, wring of the Conscience,  
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his Marriage.  
And out of all these, to restore the King,  
He counsel 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 love's 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?  Cham. 
Heaven keep me from such council: '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 Kings Sister. Heaven will one day open  
The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon  
This bold bad man.  Suff. 
And free us from his slavery.  Norf. 
We had need pray,  
And hearty, 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 fashioned  
Into what pitch he please.  Suff. 
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: th' are breath I not believe in.  
I knew him, and I know him: so I leave him  
To him that made him proud; the Pope.  Norf. 
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?  Cham. 
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 Lord Chamberlain, and the King draws the Curtain and sits reading pensively. Suff. 
How sad he looks; sure he is much afflicted.  Kin. 
Who's there? Ha'?  Norff. 
Pray God he be not angry.  Kin. 
Who's there I say? How dare you thrust yourselves  
Into my private Meditations?  
Who am I? Ha'?  Norff. 
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.  Kin. 
Ye are too bold:  
Go too; I'll make ye know your times of business:  
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? Ha'?  Enter Wolsey and 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; you're welcome  
Most learned Reverend Sir, into our Kingdom,  
Use us, and it: My good Lord, have great care,  
I be not found a Talker.  Wol. 
Sir, you cannot;  
I would your Grace would give us but an hour  
Of private conference.  Kin. 
We are busy; go.  Norff. 
This Priest has no pride in him?  Suff. 
Not to speak of:  
I would not be so sick though for his place:  
But this cannot continue.  Norff. 
If it do, I'll venture one; have at him.  Suff. 
I another.  Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk. Wol. 
Your Grace has given a Precedent of wisdom  
Above all Princes, in committing freely  
Your scruple to the voyce of Christendom:  
Who can be angry now? What Envy reach you?  
The Spaniard tide by 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 judgement)  
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.  Kin. 
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 wished for.  Cam. 
Your Grace must needs deserve all stranger's 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 joined with me their Servant,  
In the unpartial judging of this Business.  Kin. 
Two equal men: The Queen shall be acquainted  
Forth with for what you come. Where's Gardiner?  Wol. 
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 allowed freely to argue for her.  Kin. 
I, and the best she shall have; and my favour  
To him that does best, God forbidden else: Cardinal,  
Prithee call Gardener to me, my new Secretary.  
I find him a fit fellow.  Enter Gardener. Wol. 
Give me your hand: much joy & favour to you;  
You are the Kings now.  Gard. 
But to be commanded  
For ever by your Grace, whose hand has raised me.  Kin. 
Come hither Gardiner.  Walks and whispers. Camp. 
My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pa●e  
In this man's place before him?  Wol. 
Yes, he was.  Camp. 
Was he not held a learned man?  Wol. 
Yes surely.  Camp. 
Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then,  
Even of yourself Lord Cardinal.  Wol. 
How? of me?  Camp 
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.  Wol. 
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 gripped by meaner persons.  Kin. 
Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen.  Exit Gardiner. 
The most convenient place, that I can think of  
For such receipt of Learning, is Blackfriars:  
There ye shall meet about this weighty business.  
My Wolsey, see it furnished, 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. An. 
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 harme-doing: Oh, now after  
So many courses of the Sun enthroaned,  
Still growing in a Majesty and pomp, the which  
To leave, a thousand fold more bitter, then  
'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Process.  
To give her the avaunt, it is a pity  
Would move a Monster.  Old La. 
Hearts of most hard temper  
Melt and lament for her.  An. 
Oh Gods 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 bodies severing.  Old L. 
Alas poor Lady,  
she's a stranger now again.  An. 
So much the more  
Must pity drop upon her; verily  
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly borne,  
And range with humble livers in Content,  
Then to be perked up in a glistering grief,  
And wear a golden sorrow.  Old L. 
Our content  
Is our best having.  Anne. 
By my troth, and Maidenhead,  
I would not be a Queen.  Old. L. 
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 Chiverell Conscience, would receive,  
If you might please to stretch it.  Anne. 
Nay, good troth.  Old L. 
Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?  Anne. 
No, not for all the riches under Heaven.  Old. L. 
'tis strange; a three pence bowed 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?  An. 
No in truth.  Old. L. 
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 burden, 'tis too weak  
Ever to get a Boy.  An. 
How you do talk;  
I swear again, I would not be a Queen,  
For all the world:  Old. L. 
In faith, for little England  
You'd venture an emballing: I myself  
Would for Carnaruanshire, although there longed  
No more to th' Crown but that: Lo, who comes here?  Enter Lord Chamberlain. L. Cham. 
Good morrow Ladies; what were't worth to know  
The secret of your conference?  An. 
My good Lord,  
Not your demand; it values not your ask:  
Our Mistress Sorrows we were pitying.  Cham. 
It was a gentle business, and becoming  
The action of good women, there is hope  
All will be well.  An. 
Now I pray God, Amen.  Cham. 
You bear a gentle mind, & heavenly blessings  
Fellow such Creatures. That you may, fair Lady  
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high notes  
Ta'en of your many virtues; the King's Majesty  
Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and  
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing,  
Then marchioness of Pembroke; to which Title,  
A Thousand pound a year, Annual support,  
Out of his Grace, he adds.  An. 
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 hallowed; nor my Wishes  
More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes  
Are all I can return. ' Beseech your Lordship,  
Vouchsafe to speak my thankes, and my obedience,  
As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highness;  
Whose health and Royalty I pray for.  Cham. 
Lady;  
I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit  
The King hath of you. 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 I'll. I'll to the King,  
And say I spoke with you.  Exit Lord Chamberlain. An. 
My honoured Lord.  Old. L. 
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, (oh fate)  
A very fresh Fish here; fie, fie, fie upon  
This compelled fortune: have your mouth filled up,  
Before you open it.  An. 
This is strange to me.  Old L. 
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?  An. 
Come you are pleasant.  Old. L. 
With your Theme, I could  
O're-mount the Lark: The marchioness of Pembroke?  
A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect?  
No other obligation? by my Life,  
That promises more thousands: Honours train  
Is longer than his fore-skirt; by this time  
I know your back will bear a Duchess. Say,  
Are you not stronger than you were?  An. 
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 ●ot; it faints me  
To think what follows.  
The Queen is comfortless, and wee forgetful  
In our long absence: pray do not deliver,  
What here ye have heard to her.  Old L. 
What do you think me—  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with shont silver wands; next them two Scribes in the habit of Doctors▪ after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and S. 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 bareheaded, accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a Silver Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Silver Pillars: After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two noblemans, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place under the Cloth of State. The two Cardinals sit under him as judges. The Queen takes place some distance from the King. The Bishop's 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. Car. 
Whilst our Commission from Rome is read;  
Let silence be commanded.  King. 
What's the need?  
It hath already publicly been read,  
And on all sides th' Authority allowed,  
You may then spare that time.  Car. 
Be't so, proceed.  Scri. 
Say, Henry K. of England, come into the Court.  Crier. 
Henry King of England, etc.  King. 
here.  Scribe. 
Say, Katherine Queen of England,  
Come into the Court.  Crier. 
Katherine Queen of England, etc.  The Queen makes no answer, riseth out of her Chair, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneels at his Feet. Then speaks. 
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,  
Borne 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 behaviour 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 striven 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 blessed  
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 fowl'st Contempt  
Shut door upon me, and so give me up  
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, Sir,  
The King your Father, was reputed for  
A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent  
And unmatched Wit, and judgement. Ferdinand  
My Father, King of Spain, was reckoned one  
The wisest Prince, that there had reigned, by many  
A year before. It is not to be questioned,  
That they had gathered a wise Council to them  
Of every Realm▪ that did debate this Business,  
Who deemed 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' th' name of God  
Your pleasure be fulfilled.  Wol. 
You have here Lady.  
(And of your choice) these Reverend Fathers, men  
Of singular Integrity, and Learning;  
Yea, the elect o' th' 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.  Camp. 
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.  Qu. 
Lord Cardinal, to you I speak.  Wol. 
Your pleasure, Madam.  Qu. 
Sir, I am about to weep; but thinking that  
We are a Queen (or long have dreamed so) certain  
The daughter of a King, my drops of tears,  
I'll turn to sparks of fire.  Wol. 
Be patiented yet.  Qu. 
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 Gods 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.  Wol. 
I do profess  
You speak not like yourself: who ever yet  
Have stood to Charity, and displayed th' effects  
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom,  
Ore-topping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong  
I have no Spleen against you, nor injustice  
For you, or any: how fare I have proceeded,  
Or how fare 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. 
My Lord, my Lord,  
I am a simple woman, much too weak  
T' oppose your cunning. YE are meek, & humble-mouthed  
You sign your Place, and Calling, in full seeming,  
With Meekness and Humility: but your Heart  
Is crammed 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  
(Domestickes to you) serve your will, as't please  
Yourself pronounce their Office. I must tell you,  
You tender more your persons 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 the King, and offers to departed. Camp. 
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.  Kin. 
Call her again.  Crier. 
Katherine▪ Q of England, come into the Court.  Gent. 
Usher. Madam, you are called back.  Que. 
What need you note it? pray you keep your way,  
When you are called 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.  Exit Queen, and her Attendants. Kin. 
Go thy ways Kate,  
That man i' th' world, who shall report he has  
A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted,  
For speaking false in that; thou art alone  
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,  
Thy meekness Saintlike, Wifelike Government,  
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts  
Sovereign and Piousels, could speak thee out)  
The Queen of earthly Queens: she's Noble borne;  
And like her true Nobility, she has  
Carried herself towards me.  Wol. 
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 robbed 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 thankes to God for such  
A Royal Lady, spoke one, the least word that might  
Be to the prejudice of her present State,  
Or touch of her good Person?  Kin. 
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; ye are excused:  
But will you be more iustifi'de? You ever  
Have wished the sleeping of this business, never desired  
It to be stirred; but oft have hindered, oft  
The passages made toward it; on my Honour,  
I speak my good Lord Cardinal, to this point;  
And thus fare clear him.  
Now, what moved me too't,  
I will be bold with time and your attention:  
Then mark th' inducement. Thus it came; give heed too't:  
My Conscience first received a tenderness,  
Scruple, and prick, on certain Speeches uttered  
By th' Bishop of Bayon, than French Ambassador,  
Who had been hither sent on the debating  
And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans, and  
Our Daughter Mary: I' th' 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 shaken  
The bosom of my Conscience, entered me;  
Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble  
The region of my Breast, which forced such way,  
That many mazed consider, did throng  
And pressed in with this Caution. First, me thought  
I stood not in the smile of Heaven, who had  
Commanded Nature, that my Lady's womb  
If it conceived a malechild by me, should  
Do no more Offices of life too't; then  
The Grave does to th' dead: For her Male Issue,  
Or died where they were made, ot shortly after  
This world had aired them. Hence I took a thought,  
This was a judgement on me, that my Kingdom  
(Well worthy the best Heir o' th' World) should not  
Be gladded in't by me. Then follows, that  
I weighed the danger which my Realms stood in  
By this my Issues fail, and that gave to me  
Many a groaning throw: 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 learned. 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.  B. Lin. 
Very well my Liege.  Kin. 
I have spoke long, be pleased yourself to say  
How fare you satisfied me.  Lin. 
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 daringest Counsel which I had to doubt,  
And did entreat your Highness to this course,  
Which you are running here.  Kin. 
I than 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' th' world against the person  
Of the good Queen; but the sharp thorny points  
Of my alleged reasons, drives 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,  
(Katherine our Queen) before the primest Creature  
That's Parragoned o' th' World  Camp. 
So please your Highness,  
The Queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness,  
That we adjourn this Court till further day;  
Mean while, must be an earnest motion  
Made to the Queen to call back her Appeal  
She intends unto his Holiness.  Kin. 
I may perceive  
These Cardinal's trifle with me: I abhor  
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.  
My learned 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.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Queen and her Women as at work. Queen. 
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 frieze,  
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, & then lay by.  
In sweet Music is such Art,  
Killing care, & grief of heart,  
Fall asleep, or hearing dye.   Enter a Gentleman. Queen. 
How now?  Gent. 
an't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals  
Wait in the presence.  Queen. 
Would they speak with me?  Gent. 
They wiled me say so Madam.  Queen. 
Pray their Graces  
To come near: 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 the two Cardinals, Wolsey & Campian. Wols. 
Peace to your Highness.  Queen. 
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?  Wol. 
May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw  
Into your private Chamber; we shall give you  
The full cause of our coming.  Queen. 
Speak it here.  
There's nothing I have done yet o' my Conscience  
Deserves a Corner: would all other Women  
Can 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 love's open dealing.  Card. 
Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima.  Queen. 
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 willingest sin I ever yet committed,  
May be absolved in English.  Card. 
Noble Lady,  
I am sorry my integrity shoul 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 our cause.  Camp. 
Most honoured 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 fare)  
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,  
His Service, and his Counsel.  Queen. 
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 Council for my Cause:  
Alas, I am a Woman friendless, hopeless.  Wol. 
Madam,  
You wrong the King's love with these fears,  
Your hopes and friends are infinite.  Queen. 
In England,  
But little for my profit can you think Lords,  
That any English man dare give me Council?  
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 affllictions,  
They that my trust must grow to, live not here,  
They are (as all my other comforts) far hence  
In mine own Country Lords.  Camp. 
I would your Grace  
Would leave your griefs, and take my Counsel.  Queen. 
How Sir?  Camp. 
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'er take ye,  
You'll part away disgraced.  Wol. 
He tells you rightly.  Queen. 
Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruin:  
Is this your Christian Council? Out upon ye.  
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge.  
That no King can corrupt.  Camp. 
Your rage mistakes us.  Queen. 
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, laughed at, scorned?  
I will not wish ye half my miseries,  
I have more Charity. But say I warned ye;  
Take heed, for heaven's sake take heed, least at once  
The burden of my sorrows, fall upon ye.  Car. 
Madam, this is a mere distraction,  
You turn the good we offer, into envy.  Quee. 
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 Churchman's habits)  
Put my sick cause into his hands, that hates me?  
Alas, has banished 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.  Camp. 
Your fears are worse.  Qu. 
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 Vainglory)  
Never yet branded with Suspicion?  
Have I, with all my full Affections  
Still met the King? Loved him next Heaven? Obeyed 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 dreamed a joy, beyond his pleasure;  
And to that Woman (when she has done most)  
Yet will I add an Honour; a great Patience.  Car. 
Madam, you wander from the good  
We aim at.  Qu. 
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.  Car. 
Pray hear me.  Qu. 
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?  
Shipwrecked upon a Kingdom, where no Pity,  
No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weep for me?  
Almost no Grave allowed me? Like the Lily  
That once was Mistress of the Field, and flourished,  
I'll hang my head, and perish.  Car. 
If your Grace  
Can but be brought to know, our Ends are honest,  
you'd 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: I, 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, Peacemakers, Friends, and Servants.  Camp. 
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 love's 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.  Qu. 
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  

Scena Secunda.  Enter the Duke of Norfolk, Duke of Suffolk, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlain. Norf. 
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.  Sur. 
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.  Suf. 
Which of the Peers  
Have vncontemned gone by him, or at least  
Strangely neglected? When did he regard  
The stamp of Nobleness in any person  
Out of himself?  Cham. 
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 ' th' King, never attempt  
Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft  
Over the King in's Tongue.  Nor. 
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.  Sur. 
Sir,  
I should be glad to hear such News as this  
Once every hour.  Nor. 
Believe it, this is true.  
In the Divorce, his contrary proceed  
Are all unfolded: wherein he appears,  
As I would wish mine Enemy.  Sur. 
How came  
His practices to light?  Suf. 
Most strangely.  Sur. 
O how? how?  Suf. 
The Cardinal's Letters to the Pope miscarried,  
And came to th' eye o' th' King, wherein was read  
How that the Cardinal did entreat his Holiness  
To stay the judgement o' th' Divorce; for if  
It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceive  
My King is tangled in affection, to  
A Creature of the Queens, Lady Anne Bullen.  Sur. 
Has the King this?  Suf. 
Believe it.  Sur. 
Will this work?  Cham. 
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.  Sur. 
Would he had.  Suf. 
May you be happy in your wish my Lord,  
For I profess you have it.  Sur. 
Now all my joy  
Trace the Conjunction.  Suf. 
My Amen too't.  Nor. 
All men's.  Suf. 
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.  Sur. 
But will the King  
Digest this Letter of the Cardinals?  
The Lord forbidden.  Nor. 
Marry Amen.  Suf. 
No, no:  
There be more Wasps that buzz about his Nose,  
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius,  
Is stolen away to Rome, hath ' ta'en no leave,  
Has left the cause o' th' 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.  Cham. 
Now God incense him,  
And let him cry Ha', louder.  Norf. 
But my Lord  
When returns Cranmer?  Suf. 
He is returned 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 publishd, and  
Her Coronation▪ Katherine no more  
Shall be called Queen, but Princess Dowager,  
And Widow to Prince Arthur.  Nor. 
This same Cranmers  
A worthy Fellow, and hath ta'en much pain  
In the King's business.  Suf. 
He has, and we shall see him  
For it an Archbishop.  Nor. 
So I hear.  Suf. 
'Tis so.  Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. 
The Cardinal.  Nor. 
Observe, observe, he's moody.  Car. 
The Packet Cromwell,  
Gav't you the King?  Crom. 
To his own hand, in's Bedchamber.  Card. 
Looked he o' th' inside of the Paper?  Crom. 
Presently  
He did unseal them, and the first he viewed,  
He did it with a Serious mind: a heed  
Was in his countenance. You he bade  
Attend him here this Morning.  Card. 
Is he ready to come abroad?  Crom. 
I think by this he is.  Card. 
Leave me a while.  Exit Cromwell. 
It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,  
The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her.  
Anne Bullen? No: I'll no Anne Bullens for him,  
There's more in't then fair Visage. Bullen?  
No, we'll no Bullens: Speedily I wish  
To hear from Rome. The marchioness of Penbroke?  Nor. 
He's discontented.  Suf. 
Maybe he hears the King  
Does whet his Anger to him.  Sur. 
Sharp enough,  
Lord for thy justice.  Car. 
The late Queen's Gentlewoman?  
A Knight's Daughter  
To be her Mistress Mistress? The Queens, 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' th' bosom of  
Our hard ruled King. Again, there is sprung up  
An Heretic, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one  
Hath crawled into the favour of the King,  
And is his Oracle.  Nor. 
He is vexed at something.  Enter King, reading of a Schedule. Sur. 
I would 'twere something that would fret the string,  
The Master-cord on's heart.  Suf. 
The King, the King.  King. 
What piles of wealth hath he accumulated  
To his own portion? And what expense by ' th' hour  
Seems to flow from him? How, i' th' name of Thrift  
Does he rake this together? Now my Lords,  
Saw you the Cardinal?  Nor. 
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: strait  
Springs out into fast gate, 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. 
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 wots 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 outspeaks  
Possession of a Subject.  Nor. 
It's Heaven's will,  
Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet,  
To bless your eye withal.  King. 
If we did think  
His Contemplation wore above the earth,  
And fixed on Spiritual object, he should still  
Dwell in his Muse, but I am afraid  
His Think are below the Moon, not worth  
His serious considering.  King takes his Seat, whispers Lovel, who goes to the Cardinal. Car. 
Heaven forgive me,  
Ever God bless your Highness.  King. 
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 galled  
To have you therein my Companion.  Car. 
Sir,  
For Holy Offices I have a time; a time  
To think upon the part of business, which  
I bear i' th' State: and Nature does require  
Her times of preservation, which perforce  
I her frail son, amongst my Brethren mortal,  
Must give my tendance to.  King. 
You have said well.  Car. 
And ever may your Highness' yoke together,  
(As I will lend you cause) my doing well,  
With my well saying.  King. 
'Tis well said again,  
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well,  
And yet words are no deeds. My Father loved you,  
He 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  
Employed you where high Profits might come home,  
But pared my present Have, to bestow  
My Bounties upon you.  Car. 
What should this mean?  Sur. 
The Lord increase this business.  King. 
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?  Car. 
My Sovereign, I confess your Royal graces  
Showered 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 filled with my Abilities: Mine own ends  
Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed  
To ' th' good of your most Sacred Person, and  
The profit of the State. For your great Graces  
Heaped upon me (poor Undeserver) I  
Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes,  
My prayers to heaven for you; my Loyalty  
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,  
Till death (that Winter) kill it.  King. 
Fairly answered:  
A Loyal, and obedient Subject is  
Therein illustrated, the Honour of it  
Does pay the Act of it, as i' th' contrary  
The foulness is the punishment. I presume,  
That as my hand has opened Bounty to you,  
My heart dropped Love, my power reigned 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.  Car. 
I do profess,  
That for your Highness' good, I ever laboured  
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. 
'Tis Nobly spoken:  
Take notice Lords, he has a Loyal breast,  
For you have seen him open't. Read o'er this,  
And after this, and then to Breakfast with  
What appetite you have.  Exit King, frowning upon the Cardinal, the Nobles throng after him smiling, and whispering. Car. 
What should this mean?  
What sudden Anger's this? How have I reaped it?  
He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruin  
Leaped from his Eyes. So looks the chafed Lion  
Upon the daring Huntsman that has galled 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 th' 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 th' Pope?  
The Letter (as I live) with all the Business  
I writ too's Holiness. Nay then, farewell:  
I have touched 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 in the Evening,  
And no man see me more.  Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain. Nor. 
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.  Car. 
Stay:  
Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carry  
Authority so weighty.  Suf. 
Who dare cross 'em,  
Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressly?  Car. 
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 course Mettle 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?  
Fellow 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?  Sur. 
The King that gave it.  Car. 
It must be himself then.  Sur. 
Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest.  Car. 
Proud Lord, thou liest:  
Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better  
Have burnt that Tongue, than said so.  Sur. 
Thy Ambition  
(Thou Scarlet sin) robbed 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)  
Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy,  
You sent me Deputy for Ireland,  
Fare from his succour; from the King, from all  
That might have mercy on the fault, thou gav'st him:  
Whilst your great Goodness, out of holy pity,  
Absolved him with an Axe.  Wol. 
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 Surrie can be,  
And all that love his follies.  Sur. 
By my Soul,  
Your long Coat (Priest) protects you,  
Thou shouldst feel  
My Sword i' th' 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.  Card. 
All Goodness  
Is poison to thy Stomach.  Sur. 
Yes, that goodness  
Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one,  
Into your own hands (Cardinal) by Extortion:  
The goodness of your intercepted Packets  
You writ to ' th' 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,  
(Whom 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 Sacring Bell, when the brown Wench  
Lay kissing in your Arms, Lord Cardinal.  Car. 
How much me thinks, I could despise this man,  
But that I am bound in Charity against it.  Nor. 
Those Articles, my Lord, are in the King's hand:  
But thus much, they are foul ones.  Wol. 
So much fairer  
And spotless, shall mine Innocence arise,  
When the King knows my Truth.  Sur. 
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.  Wol. 
Speak on Sir,  
I dare your worst Objections: If I blush,  
It is to see a Nobleman want manners.  Sur. 
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 maimed the jurisdiction of all Bishops.  Nor. 
Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else  
To Foreign Princes, Ego & Rex meus  
Was still inscribed: in which you brought the King  
To be your Servant.  Suf. 
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.  Sur. 
Item, You sent a large Commission  
To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude  
Without the Kings will, or the State's allowance,  
A League between his Highness, and Ferrara.  Suf. 
That out of mere Ambition, you have caused  
Your holy-Hat to be stamped on the King's Coin.  Sur. 
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 undooing  
Of all the Kingdom. Many more there are,  
Which since they are of you, and odious,  
I will not taint my mouth with.  Cham. 
O my Lord,  
Press not a falling man too fare: 'tis Virtue:  
His faults lie open to the Laws, let ●em  
(Not you) correct him. My heart weeps to see him  
So little, of his great Self.  Sur. 
I forgive him.  Suf. 
Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is,  
Because all those things you have done of late  
By your power Legative within this Kingdom,  
Fall into ' th' compass of a Praemunire;  
That therefore such a Writ be sued against you,  
To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,  
Castles, and whatsoever, and to be  
Out of the King's protection. This is my Charge.  Nor. 
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 far you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.  Exeunt all but Wolsey. Wol. 
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 kill 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 fare beyond my depth: my high-blowne 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 opened. Oh how wretched  
Is that poor man, that hangs on Prince's favours?  
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too,  
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, standing amazed. 
Why how now Cromwell?  Crom. 
I have no power to speak Sir.  Car. 
What, amazed  
At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder  
A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep  
I am fall'n indeed.  Crom. 
How does your Grace.  Card. 
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 ruined Pillars, out of pity, taken  
A load, would sink a Navy, (too much Honor.)  
O 'tis a burden Cromwell, 'tis a burden  
Too heavy for a man, that hopes for Heaven.  Crom. 
I am glad your Grace,  
Has made that right use of it.  Card. 
I hope I have:  
I am able now (me thinks)  
(Out of a Fortitude of Soul, I feel)  
To endure more Miseries, and greater fare  
Than my Weakhearted Enemies, dare offer.  
What News abroad?  Crom. 
The heaviest, and the worst,  
Is your displeasure with the King.  Card. 
God bless him.  Crom. 
The next is, that Sir Thomas Moor is chosen Lord Chancellor, in your place.  Card. 
That's somewhat sudden.  
But he's a Learned man. May he continue  
Long in his Highness' favour, and do justice  
For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones,  
When he has run his course, and sleeps in Blessings,  
May have a Tomb of Orphant's tears wept on him.  
What more?  Crom. 
That Cranmer is returned with welcome;  
Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.  Card. 
That's News indeed.  Crom. 
Last, that the Lady Anne,  
Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,  
This day was viewed in open, as his Queen,  
Going to Chapel: and the voice is now  
Only about her Coronation.  Card. 
There was the weight that pulled 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 weighted  
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.  Crom. 
O my Lord,  
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo  
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.  Card. 
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 fare 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 Shoales of Honour,  
Found thee a way (out of his wrack) to rise in:  
A sure, and safe one, though thy Master missed it.  
Mark but my Fall, and that that Ruined 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 Countries,  
Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fallest (O Cromwell)  
Thou fallest 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 Kings. 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.  Crom. 
Good Sir, have patience.  Card. 
So I have. Farewell  
The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heaven do dwell.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another. 1 
YE are well met once again.  2 
So are you.  1 
You come to take your stand here, and behold  
The Lady Anne, pass from her Coronation.  2 
'Tis all my business. At our last encounter,  
The Duke of Buckingham came from his Trial.  1 
'Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow,  
This general joy.  2 
'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 Honor.  1 
Never greater,  
Not i'll assure you better taken Sir.  2 
May I be bold to ask what that contains,  
That Paper in your hand.  1 
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 Martial: you may read the rest.  1 
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 Katherine  
The Princess Dowager? How goes her business?  1 
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 Du●stable; six miles off  
From Ampthill, where the Princess lay, to which  
She was often cited by them, but appeared 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 Kymmal●on,  
Where she remains now sick.  2 
Alas good Lady.  
The Trumpets sound: Stand close,  
The Queen is coming.  Hoboys.  

The Order of the Coronation.  1 
A lively Flourish of Trumpets.  2 
Then, two judges.  3 
Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before him.  4 
Quirristers singing.  Music. 5 
Mayor of London, bearing the Mace. Then Garter, in his Coat of Arms, and on his head he wore a Gilt Copper Crown.  6 
marquis Dorset, bearing a Sceptre of Gold, on his head, a Demy coronal of Gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the Rod of Silver with the Dove, Crowned with an Earl's Coronet. Collars of Esses.  7 
Duke of Suffolk, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head, bearing a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses.  8 
A Canopy, borne by four of the Cinque-Ports, under it the Queen 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 the Queen's Train.  10 
Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain Circlets of Gold, without Flowers.  Exeunt, first passing over the Stage in Order and State, and then, A great Flourish of Trumpets. 2 
A Royal Train believe me: These I know:  
Who's that that bears the Sceptre?  1 
marquis Dorset,  
And that the Earl of Surrey, with the Rod.  2 
A bold brave Gentleman. That should be  
The Duke of Suffolk.  1 
'Tis the same: high Steward.  2 
And that my Lord of Norfolk?  1 
Yes.  2 
Heaven bless thee,  
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked 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.  1 
They that bear  
The Cloth of Honour over her, are four Barons  
Of the Cinque Ports.  2 
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.  1 
It is, and all the rest are Countesses.  2 
Their Coronets say so. These are Stars indeed,  
And sometimes falling ones.  2 
No more of that.  Enter a third Gentleman. 1 
God save you Sir. Where have you been broiling?  3 
Among the crowed i' th' Abbey, where a finger  
Can not be wedged in more: I am stifled  
With the mere rankness of their joy.  2 
You saw the Ceremony?  3 
That I did.  1 
How was it?  3 
Well worth the seeing.  2 
Good Sir, speak it to us?  3 
As well as I am able. The rich stream  
Of Lords, and Ladies, having brought the Queen  
To a prepared place in the Quire, fell off  
A distance from her; while her Grace sat down  
To rest a while, 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 lose, 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  
Can say this is my wife there, all were woven  
So strangely in one piece.  2 
But what followed?  3 
At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces  
Came to the Altar, where she kneeled, and Saintlike  
Cast her fair eyes to Heaven, and prayed devoutly.  
Then rose again, and bowed her to the people:  
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury,  
She had all the Royal make of a Queen;  
As holy Oil, Edward Confessors Crown,  
The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblems  
Laid Nobly on her: which performed, 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 Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held.  1 
Sir,  
You must no more call it Yorke-place that's past:  
For since the Cardinal fell, that Titles lost,  
'Tis now the Kings, and called White-Hall.  3 
I know it:  
But 'tis so lately altered, that the old name  
Is fresh about me.  2 
What two Reverend Bishops  
Were those that went on each side of the Queen?  3 
Stokesly and Gardiner, the one of Winchester,  
Newly preferred from the King's Secretary:  
The other London.  2 
He of Winchester  
Is held no great good lover of the Archbishops,  
The virtuous Cranmer.  3 
All the Land knows that:  
How ever, yet there is no great breach, when it comes  
Cranmer will find a Friend will not shrink from him.  2 
Who may that be, I pray you.  3 
Thomas Cromwell,  
A man in much esteem with th' King, and truly  
A worthy Friend. The King has made him  
Master o' th' jewel House,  
And one already of the Privy Council.  2 
He will deserve more.  3 
Yes without all doubt.  
Come Gentlemen▪ ye shall go my way  
Which is to ' th' 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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Katherine Dowager, sick, lead between Griffith, her Gentleman Usher, and Patience her Woman. Grif. 
How does your Grace?  Kath. 
O Griffith, sick to death:  
My Legs like loaden Branches bow to ' th' Earth,  
Willing to leave their burden: Reach a Chair,  
So now (me thinks) I feel a little ease.  
Didst thou not tell me Griffith, as thou leadest me,  
That the great Child of Honour, Cardinal Wolsey  
Was dead?  Grif. 
Yes Madam: but I thank your Grace  
Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear too't.  Kath. 
Prithee good Griffith, tell me how he died▪  
If well, he stepped before me happily  
For my example.  Grif. 
Well, the voice goes Madam,  
For after the stout Earl Northumberland  
Arrested him at Yorke, 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.  Kath. 
Alas poor man▪  Grif. 
At last, with easy Rhodes, 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.  Kath. 
So may he rest,  
His Faults lie gently on him:  
Yet thus fare 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' th' 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 ill example.  Grif. 
Noble Madam:  
men's evil manners, live in Brass, their Virtues  
We writ in Water. May it please your Highness  
To hear me speak his good now?  Kath. 
Yes good Griffith,  
I were malicious else.  Grif. 
This Cardinal,  
Though from an humble Stock, undoubtedly  
Was fashioned to much Honor. 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 unfinished) yet so Famous,  
So excellent in Art, and still so rising,  
That Christendom shall ever speak his Virtue.  
His Overthrow, heaped 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  
Then man could give him; he died, fearing God.  Kath. 
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 too.  Sad and solemn Music. Grif. 
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, than Dance: and at certain Changes, the first two hold a spare Garland over her Head, at which the other four make reverend 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, carry● the Garland with them. The Music continues. Kath. 
Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?  
And leave me here in wretchedness, behind ye?  Grif. 
Madam, we are here.  Kath. 
It is not you I call for,  
Saw ye none enter since I slept?  Grif. 
None Madam.  Kath. 
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.  Grif. 
I am most joyful Madam, such good dreams  
Possess your Fancy.  Kath. 
Bid the Music leave,  
They are harsh and heavy to me.  Music ceases. Pati. 
Do you note  
How much her Grace is altered on the sudden?  
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,  
And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes?  Grif. 
She is going Wench. Pray, pray.  Pati. 
Heaven comfort her.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
an't like your Grace—  Kath. 
You are a saucy Fellow,  
Deserve we no more Reverence?  Grif. 
You are too blame,  
Knowing she will not lose her wont Greatness  
To use so rude behaviour. Go too, kneel.  Mes. 
I humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon,  
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying  
A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you.  Kath. 
Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow  
Let me ne'er see again.  Exit Messeng. Enter Lord Capuchius. 
If my sight fail not,  
You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,  
My Royal Nephew, and your name Capucius.  Cap. 
Madam the same. Your Servant.  Kath. 
O my Lord,  
The Times and Titles now are altered strangely  
With me, since first you knew me.  
But I pray you,  
What is your pleasure with me?  Cap. 
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 hearty entreats you take good comfort.  Kath. 
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 passed all Comforts here, but Prayers.  
How does his Highness?  Cap. 
Madam, in good health.  Kath. 
So may he ever do, and ever flourish,  
When I shall dwell with Worms, and my poor name  
Banished the Kingdom. Patience, is that Letter  
I caused you write, yet sent away?  Pat. 
No Madam.  Kath. 
Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver  
This to my Lord the King.  Cap. 
Most willing Madam.  Kath. 
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 followed 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.  Cap. 
By Heaven I will,  
Or let me lose the fashion of a man.  Kath. 
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 blessed 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 vnqueened) yet like  
A Queen, and Daughter to a King enterre me.  
I can no more.  Exeunt leading Katherine.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Gardener Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovel. Gard. 
It's one a clock Boy, is't not.  Boy. 
It hath strooke.  Gard. 
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:  
Whether so late?  Lou. 
Came you from the King, my Lord?  Gar. 
I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero  
With the Duke of Suffolk.  Lou. 
I must to him too  
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.  Gard. 
Not yet Sir Thomas Lovel: what's the matter?  
It seems you are in haste: and if there be  
No great offence belongs too'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.  Lou. 
My Lord, I love you;  
And durst commend a secret to your ear  
Much weightier than this work. The Queens in Labour  
They say in great Extremity, and feared  
she'll with the Labour, end.  Gard. 
The fruit she goes with  
I pray for hearty, that it may find  
Good time, and live: but for the Stock Sir Thomas,  
I wish it grubbed up now.  Lou. 
Me thinks I could  
Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience says  
she's a good Creature, and sweet-Ladie does  
Deserve our better wishes.  Gard. 
But Sir, Sir,  
Hear me Sir Thomas, ye are 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 Lovel, take't of me,  
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she  
Sleep in their Graves.  Lovel. 
Now Sir, you speak of two  
The most remarked i' th' Kingdom: as for Cromwell,  
Beside that of the jewell-house, is made Master  
O' th' Rolls, and the King's Secretary. Further Sir,  
Stands in the gap and Trade of more Preferments,  
With which the Lime will load him. Th' Archbishop  
Is the King's hand, and tongue, and who dare speak  
One syllable against him?  Gard. 
Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,  
There are that Date, 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' th' 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 fare  
Given care 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.  Exit Gardiner and Page. Lou. 
Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your servant.  Enter King and Suffolk. King. 
Charles, I will play no more to night,  
My minds not on't, you are too hard for me.  Suff. 
Sir, I did never win of you before.  King. 
But little Charles,  
Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play.  
Now Lovel, from the Queen what is the News.  Lou. 
I could not personally deliver to her  
What you commanded me, but by her woman,  
I sent your Message, who returned her thankes  
In the great'st hum●se, and desired your Highness'  
Most hearty to pry 〈◊〉▪  King. 
What say 〈◊〉 Ha'?  
To pray for her? What 〈◊〉 ●e crying out?  Lou. 
So said her woman, and that her sufferance made  
Almost each pang, a death.  King. 
Alas good Lady.  Suf. 
God safely quit her of her Burden, and  
With gentle Travail, to the gladding of  
Your Highness with an Heir.  King. 
'Tis midnight Charles,  
Prithee to bed, and in thy prayers remember  
Th' estate of my poor Queen. Leave me alone▪  
For I must think of that, which company  
Would not be friendly too.  Suf. 
I wish your Highness  
A quiet night, and my good Mistress will  
Remember in my Prayers.  King. 
Charles good night.  Exit Suffolk. 
Well Sir, what follows?  Enter Sir Anthony Denny. Den. 
Sir, I have brought my Lord the Archbishop,  
As you commanded me.  King. 
Ha'? Canterbury?  Den. 
I my good Lord.  King. 
'Tis true: where is he Denny?  Den. 
He attends your Highness' pleasure.  King. 
Bring him to Vs.  Lou. 
This is about that, which the Bishop spoke,  
I am happily come hither.  Enter Cranmer and Denny. King. 
Avoid the Gallery.  Lovel seems to stay. 
Ha'? I have said. Be gone.  
What?  Exeunt Lovel and Denny. Cran. 
I am fearful: Wherefore frowns he thus?  
'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well.  King. 
How now my Lord?  
You do desire to know wherefore  
I sent for you.  Cran. 
It is my duty  
T' attend your Highness' pleasure.  King. 
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  
Herd many grievous. I do say my Lord  
Grievous complaints of you; which being considered,  
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.  Cran. 
I humbly thank your Highness,  
And am right glad to catch this good occasion  
Most throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaff  
And Corn shall fly asunder. For I know  
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,  
Then I myself, poor man.  King. 
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 looked  
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 endurance further.  Cran. 
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 Virtue's vacant. I fear nothing  
What can be said against me.  King. 
Know you not  
How your state stands i' th' world, with the whole world?  
Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practices  
Must bear the same proportion, and not ever  
The justice and the Truth o' th' question carries  
The dew o' th' Verdict with it; at what case  
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 too, go too,  
You take a Precepit for no leap of danger,  
And woe your own destruction.  Cran. 
God, and your Majesty  
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into  
The trap is laid for me.  King. 
Be of good cheer,  
They shall no more prevail, than we give way too:  
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  
Th' 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 goodman weeps:  
He's honest on mine Honor. God's blessed Mother,  
I swear he is truehearted, 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. Gent within. 
Come back: what mean you?  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. 
Now by thy looks  
I guess thy Message. Is the Queen delivered?  
Say I, and of a boy.  Lady. 
I, I 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. 
Lovel.  Lou. 
Sir.  King. 
Give her an hundred Marks.  
I'll to the Queen.  Exit King. 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'll  
Have more, or else vnsayed: and now, while 'tis hot,  
I'll put it to the issue.  Exit Lady.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. Cran. 
I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman  
That was sent to me from the Council, prayed me  
To make great haste. All fast? What means this? Hoa?  
Who waits there? Sure you know me?  Enter Keeper. Keep. 
Yes, my Lord:  
But yet I cannot help you.  Cran. 
Why?  Keep. 
Your Grace must weight till you be called for.  Enter Doctor Butts. Cran. 
So.  Butts. 
This is a Peer of Malice: I am glad  
I came this way so happily. The King  
Shall understand it presently.  Exit Butts Cran. 
'Tis Butts.  
The King's Physician, as he passed 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 Councillor  
'Mong Boys, Grooms, and Lackeys.  
But their pleasures  
Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience.  Enter the King, and Butts, at a Window above. Butts. 
I'll show your Grace the strangest fight.  King. 
What's that Butts?  Butts. 
I think your Highness saw this many a day.  Kin. 
Body a me: where is it?  Butts. 
There my Lord:  
The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,  
Who holds his State at door 'mongst Pursuivants,  
Pages, and Footboys.  Kin. 
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 Lordship's 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.  A Council Table brought in with Chairs and Stools, and placed under the State. Enter Lord Chancellor, places himself at the upper end of the Table, on the left hand: A Seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury's Seat. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, seat themselves in Order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as Secretary. Chan. 
Speak to the business, M. Secretary;  
Why are we met in Council?  Crom. 
Please your Honours,  
The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.  Gard. 
Has he had knowledge of it?  Crom. 
Yes.  Norf. 
Who waits there?  Keep. 
Without my Noble Lords?  Gard. 
Yes.  Keep. 
My Lord Archbishop:  
And has done half an hour to know your pleasures.  Chan. 
Let him come in.  Keep. 
Your Grace may enter now.  Cranmer approaches the Council Table. Chan. 
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 misdemeaned yourself, and not a little:  
Toward the King first, than his Laws, in filling  
The whole Realm, by your teaching & your Chaplains  
(For so we are informed) with new opinions,  
diverse and dangerous; which are Heresies;  
And not reformed, may prove pernicious.  Gard. 
Which Reformation must be sudden too  
My Noble Lords; for those that tame wild Horses,  
Place 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle;  
But stop their mouths with stubborn Bits & 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.  Cran. 
My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progress  
Both of my Life and Office, I have laboured,  
And with no little study, that my teaching  
And the strong course of my Authority,  
Might-goe 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,  
Desacers 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.  Suff. 
Nay, my Lord,  
That cannot be; you are a Counsellor,  
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.  Gard. 
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.  Cran. 
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.  Gard. 
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.  Crom. 
My Lord of Winchester, ye are a little,  
By your good favour, too sharp; Men so Noble,  
How ever faultly, yet should find respect  
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,  
To load a falling man.  Gard. 
Good M. Secretary,  
I cry your Honour mercy; you may worst  
Of all this Table say so.  Crom. 
Why my Lord?  Gard. 
Do not I know you for a Favourer  
Of this new Sect? ye are not sound.  Crom. 
Not sound?  Gard. 
Not sound I say.  Crom. 
Would you were half so honest:  
men's prayers than would seek you, not their fears.  Gard. 
I shall remember this bold Language.  Crom. 
Do.  
Remember your bold life too.  Cham. 
This is too much;  
Forbear for shame my Lords.  Gard. 
I have done.  Crom. 
And I.  Cham. 
Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed  
I take it, by all voices: That forthwith,  
You be conveyed to th' Tower a Prisoner;  
There to remain till the King's further pleasure  
Be known unto us: are you all agreed Lords.  
And by that verte no man dare accuse you.  
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.  All. 
We are.  Cran. 
Is there no other way of mercy,  
But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?  Gard. 
What other,  
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome:  
Let some o' th' Guard be ready there.  Enter the Guard. Cran. 
For me?  
Must I go like a Traitor thither?  Gard. 
Receive him,  
And see him safe i' th' Tower.  Cran. 
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.  Cham. 
This is the King's Ring.  Sur. 
'Tis no counterfeit.  Suff. 
'Ts the right Ring, by Heaven: I told ye all,  
When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling,  
'Twould fall upon ourselves.  Norf. 
Do you think my Lords  
The King will suffer but the little finger  
Of this man to be vexed?  Cham. 
'tis now too certain;  
How much more is his Life in value with him?  
Would I were fairly out on't.  Crom. 
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. Gard. 
Dread Sovereign,  
How much are we bound to Heaven,  
In daily thankes; 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 judgement comes to hear  
The cause betwixt her, and this great offender.  Kin. 
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 base to hide offences,  
To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniel,  
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me:  
But whatsoever thou tak'st me for; I'm sure  
Thou hast a cruel Nature and a bloody.  
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,  
Then but once think his place becomes thee not.  Sur. 
May it please your Grace;—  Kin. 
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 fare 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.  Chan. 
Thus fare  
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.  Kin. 
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 memo 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.  Cran. 
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?  Kin. 
Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoons; You shall have two noble Partners with you: the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady marquis Dorset? will these please you?  
Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you  
Embrace, and love this man.  Gard. 
With a true heart,  
And Brother; love I do it.  Cran. 
And let Heaven  
Witness how dear, I hold this Confirmation.  Kin. 
Good Man, those joyful tears show thy true hearts,  
The common voice I see is verified  
Of thee, which says thus: Do my Lord of Canterbury  
A shrewd turn, and he's 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Noise and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man. Port. 
You'll leave your noise anon ye▪ Rascals: do you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaves, leave your gaping:  Within. 
Good M. Porter I belong to th' Larder.  Port. 
Belong to th' Gallows, and be hanged ye Rogue: Is this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen Crabtree staffs, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em: I'll scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christen? Do you look for Ale, and Cakes here, you rude Rascals?  Man. 
Pray Sir be patiented; '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 Paul's as stir 'em.  Por. 
How got they in, and be hanged?  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.  Port. 
You did nothing Sir.  Man. 
I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,  
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 M. Porter?  Port. 
I shall be with you presently, good M. Puppy,  
Keep the door close Sirrah.  Man. 
What would you have me do?  Por. 
What should you do,  
But knock 'em down by th' dozen? Is this More fields 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 Morter-piece to blow us. There was a Haberdasher's Wife of small wit, near him, that railed upon me, till her pincked 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 fare, some forty Truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand where she was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at length they came to th' broom staff to me, I defied 'em still, when suddenly a File of Boys behind 'em, lose 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.  Por. 
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 Lord Chamberlain. Cham. 
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' th' Suburbs? We shall have  
Great store of room no doubt, left for the Ladies,  
When they pass back from the Christening?  Por. 
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.  Cham. 
As I live,  
If the King blame me for't; I'll lay ye all  
By th' 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,  
The are come already from the Christening,  
Go break among the press, and find away out  
To let the Troop pass fairly; or I'll find  
A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Months.  Por. 
Make way there, for the Princess.  Man. 
You great fellow,  
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.  Por. 
You i' th' Chamblet, get up o' th' rail,  
I'll peck you o'er the pales esse.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Trumpet's sounding: Then two Aldermen, L. Maior, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshal's Staff, Duke of 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, etc. 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. Gart. 
Heaven  
From thy endless goodness, send prosperous life,  
Long and ever happy, to the high and Mighty  
Princess of England Elizabeth.  Flourish. Enter King and Guard. Cran. 
And to your Royal Grace, & 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.  Kin. 
Thank you good Lord Archbishop:  
What is her Name?  Cran. 
Elizabeth.  Kin. 
Stand up Lord,  
With this Kiss, take my Blessing: God protect thee,  
Into whose hand, I give thy Life.  Cran. 
Amen.  Kin. 
My Noble Gossips, ye have been too Prodigal;  
I thank ye hearty: So shall this Lady,  
When she has so much English.  Cran. 
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  
Then 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 feared. 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 way 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 Starlike rise, as great in fame as she was,  
And so stand fixed. Peace, Plenty, Love, Truth, Terror,  
That were the Servants to this chosen Infant,  
Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;  
Where ever 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.  Kin. 
Thou speakest wonders.  Cran. 
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 dye,  
She must, the Saints must have her; yet a Virgin,  
A most unspotted Lily shall she pass  
To th' ground, and all the World shall mourn her.  Kin. 
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 you good Brethren, I am much beholding:  
I have received much Honour by your presence,  
And ye shall find me thankful. Led 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.   

THE EPILOGUE.  
'tIs ten to one, this Play can never please  
All that are here: Some come to take their case,  
And sleep an Act or two; but those we fear  
W' have frighted with our Tumpets: 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 w' are like to hear.  
For this Play at this time, is only in  
The merciful construction of good women,  
For such a one we showed '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.   
FINIS.   


The Prologue.  
IN Troy there lies the Scene From Isles of Greece  
The Prince's Orgillous, 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 th' Athenian bay  
Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made  
To ransack Troy, within whose strong emures  
The ravished Helen, Menelaus' Queen,  
With wanton Paris sleeps, and that's the Quarrel.  
To Tenedos they come,  
And the deepe-drawing Bark do there disgorge  
Their warlike frautage: now on Dardan Plains  
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch  
Their brave Pavilions. Priam's six-gated City,  
Dardan and Timbria, Helias, Cheta, Troien,  
And Antenonidus with massy Staples  
And corresponsive and fulfilling Bolts  
Stir 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 armed, 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 over 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.   

THE TRAGEDY OF Troilus and Cressida.  
Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Pandarus and Troilus. 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.  Pan. 
Will this gear ne'er be mended?  Troy. 
The Greeks are strong, & 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.  Pan. 
Well, I have told you enough of this: For my part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a Cake out of the Wheat, must needs tarry the grinding.  Troy. 
Have I not tarried?  Pan. 
I the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.  Troy. 
Have I not tarried?  Pan. 
I the bolting; but you must tarry the leau'ing.  Troy. 
Still have I tarried.  Pan. 
I, 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.  Troy. 
Patience herself, what Goddess ere she be,  
Doth lesser blench at sufferance, than I do:  
At Priam's Royal Table do I sit;  
And when fair Cressida comes into my thoughts,  
So (Traitor) than she comes, when she is thence.  Pan. 
Well:  
She looked yesternight fairer, than ever I saw her look,  
Or any woman else.  Troy. 
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 ascorn)  
Buried this sigh, in wrinkle of a smile:  
But sorrow, that is couched in seeming gladness,  
Is like that mirth, Fate turns to sudden sadness.  Pan. 
And her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, well go too, there were no more comparison between the Women. But for my part she is my Kinswoman, I would not (as they term it) praise it, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday as I did: I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but—  Troy. 
Oh Pandarus! I tell thee Pandarus;  
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drowned:  
Reply not in how many Fathoms deep  
They lie endrenched. I tell thee, I am mad  
In Cressida's love. Thou answerest she is Fair,  
Powr'st in the open Ulcer of my heart,  
Her Eyes, her Hair, her Cheek, her Gate, 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 Cignets 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 lai'st in every gash that love hath given me,  
The Knife that made it.  Pan. 
I speak no more than truth.  Troy. 
Thou dost not speak so much.  Pan. 
Faith, I'll not meddle in't: Let her be as she is, if she be fair, 'tis the better for her: and she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.  Troy. 
Good Pandarus: How now Pandarus?  Pan. 
I have had my Labour for my travel, ill thought on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone between and between, but small thankes for my labour.  Troy. 
What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me?  Pan. 
Because she's Kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen, and 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 and she were a Black-a-Moore, 'tis all one to me.  Troy. 
Say I she is not fair?  Troy. 
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' th' matter.  Troy. 
Pandarus?  Pan. 
Not I  Troy. 
Sweet Pandarus.  Pan. 
Pray you speak no more to me, I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.  Exit Pand. Sound Alarm. Tro. 
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 Cressida but by Pander,  
And he's as teachy to be wooed to woe,  
As she is stubborn, chaste, against all suit.  
Tell me Apollo for thy Daphne's Love  
What Cressida is, what Pander, and what we:  
Her bed is India, there she lies, a Pearl▪  
Between our Ilium, and where she resides  
Let it be called the wild and wand'ring flood,  
Ourself the Merchant, and this sailing Pander,  
Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our Bark.  Alarm. Enter Aeneas. Aene. 
How now Prince Troilus?  
Wherefore not a field?  Troy. 
Because not there; this woman's answer sorts.  
For womanish it is to be from thence:  
What news Aeneas from the field to day?  Aene. 
That Paris is returned home, and hurt.  Troy. 
By whom Aeneas?  Aene. 
Troilus by Menelaus.  Troy. 
Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a scar to scorn,  
Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn.  Alarm. Aene. 
Hark what good sport is out of Town to day.  Troy. 
Better at home, if would I might were may:  
But to the sport abroad, are you bound thither?  Aene. 
In all swift haste.  Troy. 
Come go we then together.  Exeunt. Enter Cressida and her man. Cre. 
Who were those went by?  Man. 
Queen Hecuba, and Hellen.  Cre. 
And whether go they?  Man. 
up to the Eastern Tower,  
Whose height commands as subject all the veil,  
To see the battle: Hector whose patience,  
Is as a Virtue fixed, to day was moved:  
He chides Andromache and strooke his Armourer,  
And like as there were husbandry in War  
Before the Sun rose, he was harnessed light,  
And to the field goes he; where every flower  
Did as a Prophet weep what it foresaw,  
In Hector's wrath.  Cre. 
What was his cause of anger?  Man. 
The noise goes this;  
There is among the Greeks,  
A Lord of Trojan blood, Nephew to Hector,  
They call him Aiax.  Cre. 
Good; and what of him?  Man. 
They say he is a very man per se and stands alone.  Cre. 
So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.  Man. 
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 every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblinded Argus, all eyes and no sight.  Cre. 
But how should this man that makes me smile, make Hector angry?  Man. 
They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and stroke him down, the disdained & shame whereof, hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.  Enter Pandarus. Cre. 
Who comes here?  Man. 
Madam your Uncle Pandarus.  Cre. 
Hector's a gallant man.  Man. 
As may be in the world Lady.  Pan. 
What's that? what's that?  Cre. 
Good morrow Uncle Pandarus.  Pan. 
Good morrow Cousin Cressida: what do you talk of? good morrow Alexander: how do you Cousin? when were you at Ilium?  Cre. 
This morning uncle.  Pan. 
What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere yea came to Ilium? Helen was not up? was she?  Cre. 
Hector was gone but Helen was not up?  Pan. 
E'en so; Hector was stirring early.  Cre. 
That were we talking of, and of his anger.  Pan. 
Was he angry?  Cre. 
So he says here.  Pan. 
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 fare behind him, let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too.  Cre. 
What is he angry too?  Pan. 
Who Troilus?  
Troilus is the better man of the two.  Cre. 
Oh jupiter; there's no comparison.  Pan. 
What not between Troilus and Hector? do you know a man if you see him?  Cre. 
I, if I ever saw him before and knew him.  Pan. 
Well I say Troilus is Troilus.  Cre. 
Then you say as I say,  
For I am sure he is not Hector.  Pan. 
No not Hector is not Troilus in some degrees.  Cre. 
'Tis just, to each of them he is himself.  Pan. 
Himself? alas poor Troilus I would he were.  Cre. 
So he is.  Pan. 
Condition I had gone barefoot to India.  Cre. 
He is not Hector.  Pan. 
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.  Cre. 
Excuse me.  Pan. 
He is elder.  Cre. 
Pardon me, pardon me.  Pan. 
The others not come too't, you shall tell me another tale when th' others come too't: Hector shall not have his will this year.  Cre. 
He shall not need it if he have his own.  Pan. 
Nor his qualities.  Cre. 
No matter.  Pan. 
Nor his beauty.  Cre. 
'Twould not become him, his own's better.  Pan. 
You have no judgement Niece; Helen herself swore th' other day, that Troilus for a brown favour (for so 'tis I must confess) not brown neither.  Cre. 
No, but brown.  Pan. 
Faith to say truth, brown and not brown.  Cre. 
To say the truth, true and not true.  Pan. 
She praised his complexion above Paris.  Cre. 
Why Paris hath colour enough.  Pan. 
So, he has.  Cre. 
Then Troilus should have too much, if she prasied 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.  Pan. 
I swear to you,  
I think Helen love's him better than Paris.  Cre. 
Then she's a merry Greek indeed.  Pan. 
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.  Cres. 
Indeed a Tapster's Arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein, to a total.  Pand. 
Why he is very young, and yet will he within three pound lift as much as his brother Hector.  Cres. 
Is he is so young a man, and so old a lifter?  Pan. 
But to prove to you that Helen love's him, she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin.  Cres. 
juno have mercy, how came it cloven?  Pan. 
Why, you know 'tis dimpled,  
I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrigia.  Cre. 
Oh he smiles valiantly.  Pan. 
Dooes he not?  Cre. 
Oh yes, and 'twere a clowed in Autumn.  Pan. 
Why go to then, but to prove to you that Helen love's Troilus.  Cre. 
Troilus will stand to thee  
Proof, if you'll prove it so.  Pan. 
Troilus? why he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.  Cre. 
If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.  Pan. 
I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin, indeed she has a maruel's white hand I must needs confess.  Cre. 
Without the rack.  Pan. 
And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.  Cre. 
Alas poor chin? many a wart is richer.  Pand. 
But there was such laughing, Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran over.  Cre. 
With Millstones.  Pan. 
And Cassandra laughed.  Cre. 
But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes: did her eyes run over too?  Pan. 
And Hector laughed.  Cre. 
At what was all this laughing?  Pand. 
Marry at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus chin.  Cres. 
And t' had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.  Pand. 
They laughed not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer.  Cre. 
What was his answer?  Pan. 
Quoth she, here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin; and one of them is white.  Cre. 
This is her question.  Pand 
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, plucked out and give it him: but there was such laughing, and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it past.  Cre. 
So let it now,  
For is has been a great while going by.  Pan. 
Well Cousin,  
I told you a thing yesterday, think on't.  Cre. 
So I does.  Pand. 
I'll be sworn 'tis true, he will weep you an'twere a man borne in April.  Sound a retreat. Cres. 
And I'll spring up in his tears, an'twere a nettle against May.  Pan. 
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.  Cre. 
At your pleasure.  Pan. 
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.  Enter Aeneas. Cre. 
Speak not so lowed.  Pan. 
That's Aeneas, is not that a brave man, he's one of the flowers of Troy I can you, but merke Troilus, you shall see anon.  Cre. 
Who's that?  Enter Antenor. Pan. 
That's Antenor, he has a shroud wit I can tell you, and he's a man good enough, he's one o' th' soundest judgement in Troy whosoever, and a proper man of person: when comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon, if he see me, you shall see him him nod at me.  Cre. 
Will he give you the nod?  Pan. 
You shall see.  Cre. 
If he do, the rich shall have, more.  Enter Hector. Pan. 
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?  Cre. 
O brave man!  Pan. 
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, laying on, take't off, who ill as they say, there be hacks.  Cre. 
Be those with Swords?  Enter Paris. Pan. 
Swords, any thing he cares not, and 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: look ye yonder Niece, is't not a gallant man to, 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 Troilus anon.  Cre. 
Whos's that?  Enter Hellenus. Pan. 
That's Hellenus, I marvel where Troilus is, that's Helenus, I think he went not forth to day: that's Hellenus.  Cre. 
Can Hellenus fight Uncle?  Pan. 
Hellenus no: yes he'll fight indifferent, well, I marvel where Troilus is; hark, do you not hear the people cry Troilus? Hellenus is a Priest.  Cre. 
What sneaking fellow comes yonder?  Enter Trylus. Pan. 
Where? Yonder? That's Daphobus. 'Tis Troilus! there's a man Niece, him▪ Brave Troilus, the Prince of Chivalry.  Cre. 
Peace, for shame peace.  Pand. 
Mark him, not 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 money to boot.  Enter common Soldiers. Cres. 
here come more.  Pan. 
Asses, fools, dolts, chaff and bran, chaff and bran; porridge after meat. I could live and dye i' th' 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.  Cres. 
There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.  Pan. 
Achilles? a Dray-man, a Porter, a very Camel.  Cres. 
Well, well.  Pan. 
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 so forth: the Spice, and salt that seasons a man?  Cres. 
I, a minced man, and then to be baked with no Date in the pie, for then the man's dates out.  Pan. 
You are such another woman, one knows not at what ward you lie.  Cres. 
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, at a thousand watches.  Pan. 
Say one of your watches.  Cres. 
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 passed hiding, and then it's past watching.  Enter Boy. Pan. 
You are such another.  Boy. 
Sir, my Lord would instantly speak with you.  Pan. 
Where?  Boy. 
At your own house.  Pan. 
Good Boy tell him I come, I doubt he be hurt.  
Far ye well good Niece.  Cres. 
Adieu Uncle.  Pan. 
I'll be with you Niece by and by.  Cres. 
To bring Uncle.  Pan. 
I, a token from Troilus.  Cres. 
By the same token, you are a Bawd.  Exit Pand. 
Words, vows, gifts, tears, & love's full sacrifice,  
He offers in another's enterprise:  
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see,  
Then in the glass of Pandar's praise may be;  
Yet hold I off. Women are Angels wooing,  
Things won are done, joys soul lies in the doing:  
That she beloved, knows nought, that knows not this;  
Men prise the thing vngained, 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; vngained, beseech.  
That though my hearts Contents firm love doth bear,  
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.  Exit. Senet. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, Diomedes, Menelaus, with others. Agam. 
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: checks and disasters  
Grow in the veins of actions highest reared.  
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap,  
Infect the sound Pine, and diverts his Grain  
Tortive and erant from his course of growth▪  
Nor Princess, is it matter new to us,  
That we come short of our suppose so fare,  
That after seven year's 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 gaueed surmised shape. Why then (you Princes)  
Do you with cheeks abashed, behold our works,  
And think them shame, which are (indeed) nought else  
But the protractive trials of great jove,  
To find persistive constancy in men?  
The fineness of which Mettle is not found  
In Fortune's love: for then, the Bold and Coward,  
The Wise and Fool, the Artist and un-read,  
The hard and soft, seem all affined, and kin.  
But in the Wind and Tempest of her frown,  
Distinction with a loud and powerful fan,  
Puffing at all, winnowes the light away;  
And what hath mass, or matter by itself,  
Lies rich in Virtue, and unmingled.  Nestor. 
With due Observance of thy godly 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 patiented breast, making their way  
With those of Nobler bulk?  
But let the Ruffian Boreas once enrage  
The gentle Thetis, and anon behold  
The strong ribbed Bark through liquid Mountains cut,  
Bounding between the two moist Elements  
Like Perseus' Horse. Where's then the saucy Boat,  
Whose weak vntimbered sides but even now  
Co-riualed Greatness? Either to harbour fled,  
Or made a Toast for Neptune. Even so,  
Doth valours show, and valours worth divide  
In storms of Fortune.  
For, in her ray and brightness,  
The Herd hath more annoyance by the Breeze  
Then 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 sympathise,  
And with an accent tuned in selfsame key,  
Retires to chiding Fortune.  Vlys. 
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  
The which most mighty for thy place and sway,  
And thou most reverend for thy stretcht-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 (hatched in Silver)  
Should with a bond of air, strong as the Axletree  
In which the Heavens ride, knit all Greeks ears  
To his experienced tongue: yet let it please both  
(Thou Great, and Wise) to hear Ulysses speak.  Aga. 
Speak Prince of Ithaca, and be't of less expect:  
That matter needless of importlesse burden  
Divide thy lips; then we are confident  
When rank Thersites opes his Mastic jaws,  
We shall hear Music, Wit, and Oracle.  Vlys. 
Troy yet upon his basis had been down,  
And the great Hector's sword had lacked 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,  
Th' 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 check, 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)  
The 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, un-tune that string,  
And hark what Discord follows: each thing meets  
In mere oppugnancie. 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 her 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, is it  
That by a pace goes backward in a purpose  
It hath to climb. The general's disdained  
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 life's, not in her strength.  Nest. 
Most wisely hath Ulysses here discovered  
The Fever, whereof all our power is sick.  Aga. 
The Nature of the sickness found (Ulysses)  
What is the remedy?  Vlys. 
The great Achilles, whom Opinion crown,  
The sinew, and the forehand of our Host,  
Having his ear full of his eyrie 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 scurrile 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 Ham-string, and doth think it rich  
To hear the wooden Dialogue and sound  
'Twixt his stretched footing, and the Scaffolage,  
Such to be pitied, and ore-rested seeming  
He acts thy Greatness in: and when he speaks,  
'Tis like a Chime a mending. With terms vnsquared,  
Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped,  
Would seems Hyperboles. At this fusty stuff,  
The large Achilles (on his prest-bed lolling)  
From his deep Chest, laughs out a loud applause,  
Cries excellent, 'tis Agamemnon just.  
Now play me Nestor; hum, and struck thy Beard  
As he, being dressed 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-Alarme,  
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.  Nest. 
And in the imitation of these twain,  
Who (as Ulysses says) Opinion crown  
With an Imperial voice, many are infect:  
Aiax is grown self-willed, and bears his head  
In such a reign, in full as proud a place  
As broad Achilles, and 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.  Vlys. 
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 call them on, and know by measure  
Of their observant toil, the Enemy's weight,  
Why this hath not a singer's dignity:  
They call this Bed-worke, Mapp'ry, Closset-Warre:  
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.  Nest. 
Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse  
Makes many Thetis sons.  Tucket Aga. 
What Trumpet? Look Menelaus.  Men. 
From Troy.  Enter Aeneas. Aga. 
What would you 'fore our Tent?  Aene. 
Is this great Agamemnon's Tent, I pray you?  Aga. 
Even this.  Aene. 
May one that is a Herald, and a Prince,  
Do a fair message to his Kingly ears?  Aga. 
With surety stronger than Achilles' arm,  
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice  
Call Agamemnon Head and General.  Aene. 
Fair leave, and large security. How may  
A stranger to those most Imperial looks,  
Know them from eyes of other Mortals?  Aga. 
How?  Aene. 
I: I ask, that I might waken reverence,  
And on 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?  Aga. 
This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy  
Are ceremonious Courtiers.  Aene. 
Courtiers as free, as debonnaire; unarmed,  
As bending Angels: that's their Fame, in peace:  
But when they would seem Soldiers, they have galls,  
Good arms, strong joints, true swords, & Jove's accord,  
Nothing so full of heart. But peace Aeneas,  
Peace Trojan, lay thy finger on thy lips,  
The worthiness of praise distaines his worth:  
If that he praised himself, bring the praise forth.  
But what the repining enemy commends,  
That breath Fame blows, that praise sole pure transcends.  Aga. 
Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas?  Aene. 
I Greeke, that is my name.  Aga. 
What's your affair I pray you?  Aene. 
Sir pardon, 'tis for Agamemnon's cares▪  Aga. 
He hears nought privately  
That comes from Troy.  Aene. 
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.  Aga. 
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.  Aene. 
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.  The Trumpet's sound. 
We have great Agamemnon here in Troy,  
A Prince called Hector, Priam is his Father:  
Who in this dull and long-continewed Truce  
Is rusty grown. He bade me take a Trumpet,  
And to this purpose speak: Kings, Princes, Lords,  
If there be one amongst the fayr'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 love's his Mistress more than in confession,  
(With truant vows to her own lips he love's)  
And dare a vow 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,  
Then 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.  Aga. 
This shall be told our Lover's 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'll be he.  Nest. 
Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man  
When Hector's Grandsire sucked: he is old now,  
But if there be not in our Grecian mould,  
One Noble man, that hath one sparke 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 withered 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 pawn this truth with my three drops of blood.  Aene. 
Now heavens forbidden such scarcity of youth.  Vlys. 
Amen.  Aga. 
Fair Lord Aeneas,  
Let me touch your hand:  
To our Pavilion shall I lead you first:  
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. Manet Ulysses, and Nestor. Vlys. 
Nestor.  Nest. 
What says Ulysses?  Vlys. 
I have a young conception in my brain,  
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.  Nest. 
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 cropped,  
Or shedding breed a Nursery of like evil  
To over-bulke us all.  Nest. 
Well, and how?  Vlys. 
This challenge that the gallant Hector sends,  
How ever it is spread in general name,  
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.  Nest. 
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 Lybia, though (Apollo knows)  
'Tis dry enough, will with great speed of judgement,  
I, with celerity, find Hector's purpose  
Pointing on him.  Vlys. 
And wake him to the answer, think you?  Nest. 
Yes, 'tis most meet; who may you else oppose  
That can from Hector bring his Honour off,  
If not Achilles; thought be a sportful Combat,  
Yet in this trial, much opinion dwells.  
For here the Trojans taste our dearest 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 Indices, although small pricks  
To their subsequent Volumes, there is seen  
The baby figure of the Gyant-masse  
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 forth us all: a man distilled  
Out of our Virtues; who miscarrying,  
What heart from hence receives the conquering part  
To steel a strong opinion to themselves,  
Which entertained, Limbs are in his instruments,  
In no less working, then are Swords and Bows  
Directive by the Limbs.  Vlys. 
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 dogged with two strange Followers.  Nest. 
I see them not with my old eyes: what are they?  Vlys. 
What glory our Achilles shares from Hector,  
(Were he not proud) we all should wear with him:  
But he already is too insolent,  
And we were better parch in Afric Sun,  
Then in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes  
Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foiled,  
Why then we did our main opinion crush  
In taint of our best man. No, make a Lott'ry,  
And by device let blockish Aiax draw  
The sort to sight with Hector: Among ourselves,  
Give him allowance as the worthier 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 Aiax 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 projects life this shape of sense assumes,  
Aiax employed, plucks down Achilles' Plumes.  Nest. 
Now Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice,  
And I will give a taste of it forthwith  
To Agamemnon, go we to him strait:  
Two Curs shall tame each other, Pride alone  
Must tar the Mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.  Exeunt Enter Aiax, and Thersites. Aia. 
Thersites?  Ther. 
Agamemnon, how if he had Biles (full) all over generally.  Aia. 
Thersites?  Ther. 
And those Byles did run, say so; did not the General run, were not that a botchy core?  Aia. 
Dog.  Ther. 
Then there would come some matter from him:  
I see none now.  Aia. 
Thou Bitch-Wolfes-Sonne, canst thou not hear?  
Feel then.  Strikes him. Ther. 
The plague of Greece upon thee thou Mongrel beefe-witted Lord.  Aia. 
Speak then you whinid'st leaven speak, I will beat thee into handsomeness.  Ther. 
I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but I think thy Horse will sooner con an Oration, then thou learn a prayer without book: Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red Murrain o' th' thy jades tricks.  Aia. 
Toads stool, learn me the Proclamation.  Ther. 
Dost thou think I have no sense thou strik'st me thus?  Aia. 
The Proclamation.  Ther. 
Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.  Aia. 
Do not Porpentine, do not; my finger's itch.  Ther. 
I would thou didst itch from head to foot, and I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the lothsom'st scab in Greece.  Aia. 
I say the Proclamation.  Ther. 
Thou grumblest & railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty. I, that thou barkst at him.  Aia. 
Mistress Thersites.  Ther. 
Thou shouldst strike him.  Aia. 
Coblofe.  Ther. 
He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a Sailor breaks a biscuit.  Aia. 
You whoreson Cur.  Ther. 
Do, do.  Aia. 
Thou stool for a Witch.  Ther. 
I, do, do, thou sodden-witted Lord: thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows: An Asinico may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant Ass, thou art here but to thresh Troyans, 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.  Aia. 
You dog.  Ther. 
You scurvy Lord.  Aia. 
You Cur.  Ther. 
Mars his Idiot: do rudeness, do Camel, do, do.  Enter Achilles, and Patroclus'. Achil. 
Why how now Aiax? wherefore do you this?  
How now Thersites? what's the matter man?  Ther. 
You see him there, do you?  Achil. 
I, what's the matter.  Ther. 
Nay look upon him.  Achil. 
So I do: what's the matter?  Ther. 
Nay but regard him well.  Achil. 
Well, why I do so.  Ther. 
But yet you look not well upon him: for who some ever you take him to be, he is Aiax.  Achil. 
I know that fool.  Ther. 
I, but that fool knows not himself.  Aiax. 
Therefore I bear thee.  Ther. 
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 ninth part of a Sparrow. This Lord (Achilles) Aiax who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say of him.  Achil. 
What?  Ther. 
I say this Aiax—  Achil. 
Nay good Aiax.  Ther. 
Has not so much wit.  Achil. 
Nay, I must hold you.  Ther. 
As will stop the eye of Helen's Needle, for whom he comes to fight.  Achil. 
Peace fool.  Ther. 
I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: He there, that he, look you there.  Aiax. 
O thou damned Cur, I shall—  Achil. 
Will you set your wit to a Fools.  Ther. 
No I warrant you, for a fools will shame it.  Pat. 
Good words Thersites.  Achil. 
What's the quarrel?  Aiax. 
I bade thee vile Owl, go learn me the tenure of the Proclamation, and he rails upon me.  Ther. 
I serve thee not.  Aiax. 
Well, go too, go too.  Ther. 
I serve here voluntary.  Achil. 
Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary, no man is beaten voluntary: Aiax was here the voluntary▪ and you as under an Impress.  Ther. 
E'neso, a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews, or else there be Liars Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains, he were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.  Achil. 
What with me to Thersites?  Ther. 
There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, whose Wit was mouldy ere their Grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draft_oxes, and make you plough up the war.  Achil. 
What? what?  Ther. 
Yes good sooth, to Achilles, to Aiax, to—  Aiax. 
I shall cut out your tongue.  Ther. 
'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much as thou afterwards.  Pat. 
No more words Thersites.  Ther. 
I will hold my peace when Achilles' Brooch bids me, shall I?  Achil. 
There's for you Patroclus.  Ther. 
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. Pat. 
A good riddance.  Achil. 
Marry this Sin is proclaimed through all our host,  
That Hector by the sift 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.  Aiax. 
Farewell? who shall answer him?  Achil. 
I know not, 'tis put to Lottry: otherwise  
He knew his man.  Aiax. 
O meaning you, I will go learn more of it.  Exit. Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Helenus. Pri. 
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 comorant War)  
Shall be struck off. Hector, what say you too't.  Hect. 
Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,  
As fare as touches 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  
Then Hector is: the wound of peace is surety,  
Surety secure: but modest Doubt is called  
The Beacon of the wise: the tent that searches  
To ' th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go,  
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,  
Every tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dimes,  
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.  Troy. 
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 waste most fathomless,  
With spans and inches so diminutive,  
As fears and reasons? Fie for godly shame?  Hel. 
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.  Troy. 
You are for dreams & slumbers brother Priest  
You fur your gloves with reason: here are your reasons  
You know an enemy intends you harm,  
You know, a sword employed 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:  
Or like a Star disorbed. Nay, if we talk of Reason,  
And fly like chidden Mercury from jove,  
Let's shut our gates and sleep: Manhood and Honour  
Should have hard hearts, would they but fat their thoughts  
With this crammed reason: reason and respect,  
Makes Livers pale▪ and lustyhood deject.  Hect. 
Brother, she is not worth  
What she doth cost the holding.  Troy. 
What's aught, but as 'tis valued?  Hect. 
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 made Idolatry,  
To make the service greater than the God,  
And the will dotes that is inclineable  
To what infectiously itself affects,  
Without some image of th' affected merit.  Troy. 
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 judgement. 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 spoiled them; nor the remainder Viands  
We do not throw in unrespective same,  
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 touched the Ports desired,  
And for an old Aunt whom the Greeks held Captive,  
He brought a Grecian Queen, whose youth & freshness  
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stolen the morning.  
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our Aunt:  
Is she worth keeping? Why she is a Pearl,  
Whose price hath launched above a thousand Ships,  
And turned Crowned 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 clapped your hands,  
And cried inestimable; why do you now  
The issue of your proper Wisdom's 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 stolen what we do fear to keep.  
But Thiefs unworthy of a thing so stolen,  
That in their Country did them that disgrace,  
We fear to warrant in our Native place.  Enter Cassandra with her hair about her ears. Cas. 
Cry Trojans, cry.  Priam. 
What noise? what shriek is this?  Troy. 
'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.  Cas. 
Cry Troyans.  Hect. 
It is Cassandra.  Cas. 
Cry Trojans cry; lend me ten thousand eyes,  
And I will fill them with Prophetic tears.  Hect. 
Peace sister, peace.  Cas. 
Virgins, and Boys; mid-age & wrinkled old,  
Soft infancy, that nothing can but cry,  
Add to my clamour: 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 Illium 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. Hect. 
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?  Troy. 
Why Brother Hector,  
We may not think the justness of each act  
Such, and no other than event doth form it,  
Not once deject the courage of our minds;  
Because Cassandra's mad, her brainsick 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 touched, than all Priam's sons,  
And love forbidden there should be done amongst us  
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen,  
To fight for, and maintain.  Par. 
Else might the world convince of levity,  
As well my undertake 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.  Pri. 
Paris, you speak  
Like one be-sotted on your sweet delights;  
You have the Honey still, but these the Gall,  
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.  Par. 
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 ransacked 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 bestowed, or death vnfamed,  
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.  Hect. 
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 distempered blood,  
Then 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 rendered to their Owners: now  
What nearer debt in all humanity,  
Then 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-ordred Nation,  
To curb those raging appetites that are  
Most disobedient and refracturie.  
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King  
(As it is known she is) these Moral Laws  
Of Nature, and of Nation, speak aloud  
To have her back returned. 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'er the less,  
My sprightly brethren, I propend to you  
In resolution to keep Helen still;  
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence,  
Upon our joint and several dignities.  Tro. 
Why? there you touched the life of our design:  
Were it not glory that we more affected,  
Then 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.  Hect. 
I am yours,  
You valiant offspring of great Priamus,  
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst  
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,  
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits,  
I was aduertized, their Great general slept,  
Whilst emulation in the army crept:  
This I presume will wake him.  Exeunt. Enter Thersites solus. 
How now Thersites? what lost in the Labyrinth of thy fury? shall the Elephant Aiax 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 Engineer. 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 thou 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 the massy Irons and cutting the web: after this, the vengeance on the whole Camp, or rather the bone-ache, for that me thinks is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers and devil, envy, say Amen: What ho? my Lord Achilles?  Enter Patroclus'. Patr. 
Who's there? Thersites. Good Thersites come in and rail.  Ther. 
If I could have remembered a guilt 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 coarse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but Lazars, Amen. where's Achilles?  Patr. 
What art thou devout? waste thou in a prayer?  Ther. 
I, the heavens hear me.  Enter Achilles. Achil. 
Who's there?  Patr. 
Thersites, my Lord.  Achil. 
Where, where, art thou come? why my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself into my Table, so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon?  Ther. 
Thy Commander Achilles, then tell me Patroclus, what's Achilles?  Patr. 
Thy Lord Thersites: then tell me I pray thee, what's thyself?  Ther. 
Thy knower Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus, what art thou?  Patr. 
Thou mayst tell that knowst.  Achil. 
O tell, tell.  Ther. 
I'll declin the whole question: Agamemnon commands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus knower, and Patroclus is a fool.  Patro. 
You rascal.  Ter. 
Peace fool, I have not done.  Achil. 
He is a privileged man, proceed Thersites.  Ther. 
Agamemnon is a fool, Achilles is a fool, Thersites is a fool, and as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.  Achil. 
Derive this? come?  Ther. 
Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles, Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemon, Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool: and Patroclus is a fool positive.  Patr. 
Why am I a fool?  Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, Aiax, and Chalcas. Ther. 
Make that demand to the Creator, it suffises me thou art. Look you, who comes here?  Achil. 
Patroclus', I'll speak with no body: come in with me Thersites.  Exit. Ther. 
Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery: all the argument is a Cuckold and a Whore, a good quarrel to draw emulations, factions, and bleed to death upon: Now the dry Suppeago on the Subject, and War and Lechery confound all.  Agam. 
Where is Achilles?  Patr. 
Within his Tent, but ill disposed my Lord.  Agam. 
Let it be known to him that we are here:  
He sent out Messengers, and we lay by  
Our appertainments, visiting of him:  
Let him be told of, so perchance he think  
We dare not move the question of our place,  
Or know not what we are.  Pat. 
I shall so say to him.  Vlis. 
We saw him at the opening of his Tent,  
He is not sick.  Aia. 
Yes, Lion sick, sick of proud heart; you may call it Melancholy if will favour the man, but by my head, it is pride; but why, why, let him show us the cause? A word my Lord.  Nes. 
What moves Aiax thus to bay at him?  Vlis. 
Achilles hath inveigled his Fool from him.  Nes. 
Who, Thersites?  Vlis. 
He.  Nes. 
Then will Aiax lack matter, if he have lost his Argument.  Vlis. 
No, you see he is his argument that has his argument Achilles.  Nes. 
All the better, their fraction is more our wish then their faction; but it was a strong counsel that a Fool could disunite.  Vlis. 
The amity that wisdom knits, not folly may easily untie.  Enter Patroclus'. 
Here comes Patroclus.  Nes. 
No Achilles with him?  Vlis. 
The Elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy:  
His leg are legs for necessity, not for slight.  Patro. 
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;  
An after Dinners breath.  Aga. 
Hear you Patroclus:  
We are too well acquainted with these answers:  
But his evasion winged 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 of his own part beheld,  
Do in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss;  
Yea, and like fair Fruit in an unholdsome dish,  
Are like to rot untasted: go and tell him,  
We came to speak with him; and you shall not sin,  
If you do say, we think him over proud,  
And under honest; in selfe-assumption greater  
Than in the note of judgement: & worthier than himself  
Here tends the savage strangeness he puts on,  
Disguise the holy strength of their command:  
And under write in an observing kind  
His humorous predominance, yea watch  
His pettish lines, his ebbs, his flows, as if  
The passage and whole carriage of this action  
Road 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.  Pat. 
I shall, and bring his answer presently.  Aga. 
In second voice we'll not be satisfied,  
We come to speak with him, Ulysses enter you.  Exit Ulysses. Aiax. 
What is he more than another?  Aga. 
No more than what he thinks he is.  Aia. 
Is he so much, do you not think, he thinks himself a better man than I am?  Ag. 
No question.  Aiax. 
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?  Ag. 
No, Noble Aiax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable  Aiax. 
Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what it is.  Aga. 
Your mind is the clearer Aiax, and your virtues the fairer; he that is proud, eats up himself; Pride is his own Glass, his own trumpet, his own Chronicle, and what ever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.  Enter Ulysses. Aiax. 
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of Toads.  Nest. 
Yet ●e ●oues himself: Is't not strange?  Vlis. 
Achilles will not to the field to morrow.  Ag. 
What's his excuse?  Vlis. 
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.  Aga. 
Why, will he not upon our fair request,  
Vntent his person, and share the air with us?  Vlis. 
Things small as nothing, for requests sake only  
He makes important; possessed he is with greatness,  
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride  
That quarrels at selfe-breath. Imagined wrath  
Holds in his blood such swollen and hot discourse,  
That twixt his mental and his active parts,  
Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages,  
And batters 'gainst itself; what should I say?  
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it,  
Cry no recovery.  Ag. 
Let Aiax 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.  Vlis. 
O Agamemnon, let it not be so.  
we'll consecrate the steps that Aiax 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 worshipped,  
Of that we hold an Idol, more than he?  
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord,  
Must not so stall his Palm, nobly acquired,  
Nor by my will assubingate 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 L. go to him? jupiter forbidden,  
And say in thunder, Achilles' go to him.  Nest. 
O this is well, he rubs the vein of him.  Dio. 
And how his silence drinks up this applause.  Aia. 
If I go to him, with my armed fist, I'll pash him o'er the face.  Ag. 
O no, you shall not go.  Aia. 
And a be proud with me, i'll phese his pride: let me go to him.  Vlis. 
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.  Aia. 
A paltry insolent fellow.  Nest. 
How he describes himself.  Aia. 
Can he not be sociable?  Vlis. 
The Raven chides blackness.  Aia. 
I'll let his humours blood.  Ag. 
He will be the Physician that should be the patiented.  Aia. 
And all men were a my mind.  Vlis. 
Wit would be out of fashion.  Aia. 
A should not bear it so, a should eat Swords first: shall pride carry it?  Nest. 
And 'twould, you'd carry half.  Vlis. 
A would have ten shares.  Aia. 
I will kneaded him, I'll make him supple, he's not yet through warm.  Nest. 
Force him with praises, pour in, pour in: his ambition is dry.  Vlis. 
My L. you feed too much on this dislike.  Nest. 
Our noble General, do not do so.  Diom. 
You must prepare to fight without Achilles.  Vlis. 
Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harm.  
Here is a man, but 'tis before his face,  
I will be silent.  Nest. 
Wherefore should you so?  
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.  Vlis. 
‛ Know the whole world, he is as valiant.  Aia. 
A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us, would he were a Trojan.  Nest. 
What a vice were it in Aiax now—  Vlis. 
If he were proud.  Dio. 
Or covetous of praise.  Vlis 
I, or surly borne.  Dio. 
Or strange, or self affected.  Vl. 
Thank the heavens L. thou art of sweet composure;  
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck:  
Fame by thy Tutor, and thy parts of nature  
Thrice famed beyond, 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 sinnowie Aiax: 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.  
But pardon Father Nestor, were your days  
As green as Aiax, and your brain so tempered,  
You should not have the eminence of him,  
But be as Aiax.  Aia. 
Shall I call you Father?  Vlis. 
I my good Son.  Dio. 
Be ruled by him Lord Aiax.  Vlis. 
There is no tarrying here, the Hart Achilles  
Keeps thicker: please it our 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, Aiax shall cope the best.  Ag. 
Go we to Counsel, let Achilles sleep;  
Light Botes may sail swift, though greater bulks draw deep.  Exeunt. Music sounds within. Enter Pandarus and a Servant. Pan. 
Friend, you, pray you a word: Do not you follow the young Lord Paris?  Ser. 
I sir, when he goes before me.  Pan. 
You depend upon him I mean?  Ser. 
Sir, I do depend upon the Lord.  Pan. 
You depend upon a noble Gentleman: I must needs praise him.  Ser. 
The Lord be praised.  Pa. 
You know me, do you not?  Ser. 
Faith sir, superficially.  Pa. 
Friend know me better, I am the Lord Pandarus.  Ser. 
I hope I shall know your honour better.  Pa. 
I do desire it.  Ser. 
You are in the state of Grace?  Pa. 
Grace, not so friend, honour and Lordship are my title: What Music is this?  Ser. 
I do but partly know sir: it is Music in parts.  Pa. 
Know you the Musicians.  Ser. 
Wholly sir.  Pa. 
Who play they to?  Ser. 
To the hearers sir.  Pa. 
At whose pleasure friend?  Ser. 
At mine sir, and theirs that love Music.  Pa. 
Command, I mean friend.  Ser. 
Who shall I command sir?  Pa. 
Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?  Ser. 
That's too't indeed sir: marry sir, at the request of Paris my L. who's there in person; with him the mortal Venus, the heart blood of beauty, love's invisible soul.  Pa. 
Who? my Cousin Cressida.  Ser. 
No sir, Helen, could you not find out that by her attributes?  Pa. 
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 complemental assault upon him, for my business seethes.  Ser. 
Sodden business, there's a stewed phrase indeed.  Enter Paris and Helena. Pan. 
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.  Hel. 
Dear L. you are full of fair words.  Pan. 
You speak your fair pleasure sweet Queen: fair Prince, here is good broken Music.  Par. 
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.  Pan. 
Truly Lady no.  Hel. 
O sir.  Pan. 
Rude in sooth, in good sooth very rude.  Paris. 
Well said my Lord: well, you say so in fits.  Pan. 
I have business to my Lord, dear Queen: my Lord will you vouchsafe me a word.  Hel. 
Nay, this shall not hedge us out, we'll hear you sing certainly.  Pan. 
Well, sweet Queen you are pleasant with me, but, marry thus my Lord, my dear Lord, and most esteemed friend your brother Troilus.  Hel. 
My Lord Pandarus, honey sweet Lord.  Pan. 
Go too sweet Queen, go to.  
Commends himself most affectionately to you.  Hel. 
You shall not bob us out of our melody:  
If you do, our melancholy upon your head.  Pan. 
Sweet Queen, sweet Queen, that's a sweet Queen I faith—  Hel. 
And to make a sweet Lady sad, is a sour offence.  Pan. 
Nay, that shall not serve your turn, that shall it 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.  Hel. 
My Lord Pandarus?  Pan. 
What says my sweet Queen, my very, very sweet Queen?  Par. 
What exploit's in hand, where sups he to night?  Hel. 
Nay but my Lord?  Pan. 
What says my sweere Queen? my cousin will fall out with you.  Hel. 
You must not know where he sups.  Par. 
With my disposer Cressida.  Pan. 
No, no; no such matter, you are wide, come your disposer is sick.  Par. 
Well, I'll make excuse.  Pan. 
I good my Lord: why should you say Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.  Par. 
I spy.  Pan. 
You spy, what do you spy: come, give me an  
Instrument now sweet Queen.  Hel. 
Why this is kindly done?  Pan. 
My Niece is horrible in love with a thing you have sweet Queen.  Hel. 
She shall have it my Lord, if it be not my Lord Paris.  Pand. 
He? no, she'll none of him, they two are twain.  Hel. 
Falling in after falling out, may make them three.  Pan. 
Come, come, I'll hear no more of this, I'll sing you a song now.  Hel. 
I, I, prithee now: by my troth sweet Lord thou hast a fine forehead.  Pan. 
I you may, you may.  Hel. 
Let thy song be love: this love will undo us al.  
Oh Cupid Cupid▪ Cupid.  Pan. 
Love? I that it shall i'faith.  Par. 
I, good now love, love, no thing but love.  Pan. 
In good troth it gins so.  

Love, love, nothing but love, still more:  
For O love's Bow,  
Shoots Buck and Do:  
The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,  
But tickles still the sore:  
These Lover's cry, oh ho they die;  
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,  
Doth turn oh ho, to ha' ha' he:  
So dying love life's still,  
O ho a while, but ha' ha' ha',  
O ho groans out for ha' ha' ha'— hay ho.   Hel. 
In love i'faith to the very tip of the nose.  Par. 
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.  Pan. 
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 whose a field to day?  Par. 
Hector, Deiphoebus, 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?  Hel. 
He hangs the lip at something; you know all Lord Pandarus?  Pan. 
Not I honey sweet Queen: I long to hear how they sped to day:  
You'll remember your brother's excuse?  Par. 
To a hair.  Pan. 
Farewell sweet Queen.  Hel. 
Commend me to your Niece.  Pan. 
I will sweet Queen.  Sound a retreat. Par. 
They're come from field: let us to Priam's Hall  
To greet the Warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woe you,  
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn Buckles,  
With these your white enchanting fingers touched,  
Shall more obey then to the edge of Steel,  
Or force of Greekish sinews: you shall do more  
Than all the Island Kings, disarm great Hector.  Hel. 
'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.  
Sweet above thought I love thee.  Exeunt. Enter Pandarus and Troilus Man. Pan. 
How now, where's thy Master, at my Cousin Cressidas?  Man. 
No sir, he stays for you to conduct him thither.  Enter Troilus. Pan. 
O here he comes: How now, how now?  Troy. 
Sirrah walk off.  Pan. 
Have you seen my Cousin?  Troy. 
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 bed's  
Proposed for the deserver. O gentle Pandarus,  
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,  
And fly with me to Cressida.  Pan. 
Walk here i'th' Orchard, I'll bring her strait.  Exit Pandarus. Troy. 
I am giddy; expectation whirls me round,  
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet,  
That it enchants my sense: what will it be  
When that the watery palates taste indeed  
Love's thrice reputed Nectar? Death I fear me  
Sounding destruction, or some joy too fine,  
Too subtle, potent, and 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.  Enter Pandarus. Pan. 
she's making her ready, she'll come strait; you must be witty now, she does so blush, & fetches her wind so short, as if she were afraid with a spirit: I'll fetch her; it is the prettiest villain, she fetches her breath so short as a new ta'en Sparrow.  Exit Pand. Troy. 
Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom:  
My heart beats thicker than a feavorous pulse,  
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,  
Like vassalage at unawares encountering  
The eye of Majesty.  Enter Pandarus and Cressida. Pan. 
Come, come, what need you blush?  
Shames 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, and you draw backward we'll put you i' th' fils: why do you not speak to her? Come draw this curtain, & let's see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend day light? and 'twere dark you'd 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 Tercell, for all the Ducks i'th' River: go too▪ go too.  Troy. 
You have bereft me of all words Lady.  Pan. 
Words pay no debts; give her deeds: but she'll bereave you ' o'th' 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?  Cres. 
Will you walk in my Lord?  Troy. 
O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus?  Cres. 
Wished my Lord? the gods grant? O my Lord.  Troy. 
What should they grant? what makes this pretty abruption: what too curious dreg espies my sweet Lady in the fountain of our love?  Cres. 
More dregs than water, if my ears have eyes.  Troy. 
Fears make devils of Cherubins, they never see truly.  Cres. 
Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safe footing, then blind reason, stumbling without fear: to fear the worst, oft cures the worse.  Troy. 
Oh let my Lady apprehend no fear,  
In all Cupids Pageant there is presented no monster.  Cres. 
Not nothing monstrous neither?  Troy. 
Nothing but our undertake, when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame Tigers; thinking it harder for our Mistress to device imposition enough, then for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruositie in love Lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.  Cres. 
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?  Troy. 
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 borne his addition shall be humble: few words to fair faith. Troilus shall be such to Cressida, as what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus.  Cres. 
Will you walk in my Lord?  Enter Pandarus. Pan. 
What blushing still? have you not done talking yet?  Cres. 
Well Uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.  Pan. 
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.  Tro. 
You know now your hostages: your Uncle's word and my firm faith.  Pan. 
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 Burrs I can tell you, they'll stick where they are thrown.  Cres. 
Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart: Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day, for many weary months.  Troy. 
Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?  Cres. 
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 grow  
Too headstrong for their mother: see we fools,  
Why have I blabbed: who shall be true to us  
When we are so unsecret to ourselves?  
But though I loved you well, I wooed you not,  
And yet good faith I wished 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  
Coming in dumbness, from my weakness draws  
My soul of counsel from me. Stop my mouth.  Troy. 
And shall, albeit sweet Music issues thence.  Pan. 
Pretty i'faith.  Cres. 
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.  Troy. 
Your leave sweet Cressida?  Pan. 
Leave: and you take leave till to morrow morning.  Cres. 
Pray you content you.  Troy. 
What offends you Lady?  Cres. 
Sir, mine own company.  Troy. 
You cannot shun yourself.  Cres. 
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. Where is my wit?  
I would be gone: I speak I know not what.  Troy. 
Well know they what they speak, that speaks so wisely.  Cre. 
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.  Troy. 
O that I thought it could be in a woman:  
As if it can, I will presume in you,  
To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love.  
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,  
Out-living beauties 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 winnowed puriritie in love:  
How were I then up-lifted! but alas,  
I am as true, as truth's simplicity,  
And simpler than the infancy of truth.  Cres. 
In that I'll war with you.  Troy. 
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;  
Wants 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 th' Centre:  
Yet after all comparisons of truth,  
(As truths authentic author to be cited)  
As true as Troilus, shall crown up the Verse,  
And sanctify the numbers.  Cres. 
Prophet may you be:  
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,  
When time is old and hath forgot itself:  
When water drops have worn the Stones of Troy;  
And blind oblivion swallowed Cities up;  
And mighty States characterlesse are grated  
To dusty nothing; yet let memory,  
From false to false, among false Maids in love,  
Upbraid my falsehood, when they'aue said as false,  
As Air, as Water, as Wind, as sandy earth;  
As Fox to Lamb; as Wolf to Heifers Calf;  
Pard to the Hind, or Stepdame to her Son;  
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,  
As false as Cressida.  Pand. 
Go too, a bargain made: seal it, seal it, I'll be the witness here I hold your hand: here my Cousins, fever 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 Panders; let all constant men be Troylusses, all false women Cressida's, and all brokers between, Panders: say, Amen.  Troy. 
Amen.  Cres. 
Amen.  Pan. 
Amen.  
Whereupon I will show you a Chamber, 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, and Pander, to provide this gear.  Exeunt. Enter Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Agamemnon, Menelaus and Chalcas. Flourish. Cal. 
Now Princes for the service I have done you,  
Th' 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 abandoned Troy, left my possession,  
Incurred a Traitor's name, exposed myself,  
From certain and possessed 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 registered in promise,  
Which you say, live to come in my behalf.  Agam. 
What wouldst thou of us Trojan? make demand?  Cal. 
You have a Trojan prisoner, called Antenor,  
Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear,  
Oft have you (often have you, thanks therefore)  
Desired my Cressida in right great exchange.  
Whom Troy hath still denied: but this Antenor,  
I know is such a wrist 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.  Aga. 
Let Diomedes bear him,  
And bring us Cressida hither: Calcas shall have  
What he requests of us: good Diomedes  
Furnish you fairly for this interchange;  
Withal bring word, if Hector will to morrow  
Be answered in his challenge. Aiax is ready.  Dio. 
This shall I undertake, and 'tis a burden  
Which I am proud to bear.  Exit. Enter Achilles and Patroclus in their Tent. Vlis. 
Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his Tent;  
Please it our General to pass strangely by him,  
As if he were forgot: and Princes all,  
Lay negligent and lose regard upon him;  
I will come last, 'tis like he'll question me,  
Why such unplausive eyes are bend? why turned 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 do good, pride hath no other glass  
To show itself, but pride: for supple knees,  
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.  Agam. 
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,  
Then if not looked on. I will lead the way.  Achil. 
What comes the General to speak with me?  
You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy.  Aga. 
What says Achilles, would he ought with us?  Nes. 
Would you my Lord ought with the General?  Achil. 
No.  Nes. 
Nothing my Lord.  Aga. 
The better.  Achil. 
Good day, good day.  Men. 
How do you? how do you?  Achi. 
What, does the Cuckold scorn me?  Aiax. 
How now Patroclus?  Achil. 
Good morrow Aiax?  Aiax. 
Ha.  Achil. 
Good morrow.  Aiax. 
I, and good next day too.  Exeunt. Achil. 
What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?  Patr. 
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.  Achil. 
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 honoured for those honours  
That are without him; as place, riches, and favour,  
Prizes of accident, as oft as merit:  
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers;  
The love that leaned on them as slippery too,  
Doth 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 me thinks 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?  Vlis. 
Now great Thetis Son.  Achil. 
What are you reading?  Vlis. 
A strange fellow here  
Writes me, that man, how dear 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.  Achil. 
This is not strange Ulysses:  
The beauty that is borne here in the face,  
The bearer knows not, but commends itself,  
Not going from itself: but eye to eye opposed  
Salutes each other with each others form:  
For speculation turns not to itself,  
Till it hath travailed, and is married there  
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all.  Vlis. 
I do not strain it at the position,  
It is familiar; but at the Author's drift,  
Who in his circumstance, expressly proves  
That no may is the Lord of any thing,  
(Though in and of him there is much consisting,)  
Till he communicate his parts to others:  
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught,  
Till he behold them form in th' applause,  
Where they are extended: who like an arch reuerb'rate  
The voice again; or like a gate of steel,  
Fronting the Sun, receives and renders back  
His figure, and his heat. I was much rapt in this,  
And apprehended here immediately:  
The unknown Aiax;  
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?  
Aiax renowned? O heavens, what some men do,  
While some men leave to do!  
How some men creep in skittish fortunes hall,  
Whiles others play the Idiots in her eyes:  
How one man eats into another's pride,  
While pride is feasting in his wantonness  
To see these Grecian Lords; why, even already,  
They clap the lubber Aiax on the shoulder,  
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,  
And great Troy shrinking.  Achil. 
I do believe it:  
For they passed by me, as my sers do by beggars,  
Neither gave to me good word, nor look:  
What are my deeds forgot?  Vlis. 
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 passed,  
Which are devoured 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 male,  
In monumental mockery: take the instant way,  
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,  
Where one but goes a breast, 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 forth right;  
Like to an entered 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, near  
O'errun and trampled on: than what they do in present,  
Though less than yours in past, must overtop yours:  
For time is like a fashionable Host,  
That slightly shakes his parting Guest by th' hand;  
And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly,  
Grasps in the comer: the welcome ever smiles,  
And farewells 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 borne gauds,  
Though they are made and moulded of things past,  
And go to dust, that is a little guilt,  
More laud than guilt over dusted.  
The present eye praises the present object:  
Then marvel not thou great and complete man,  
That all the Greeks begin to worship Aiax;  
Since things in motion begin to catch the eye,  
Then what not stirs: the cry went out 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 drove great Mars to faction.  Achil. 
Of this my privacy,  
I have strong reasons.  Vlis. 
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.  Achil. 
Ha'? known?  Vlis. 
Is that a wonder?  
The providence that's in a watchful State,  
Knows almost every grain of Pluto's gold;  
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps;  
Keeps place with thought; and almost like the gods,  
Do thoughts unuaile 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,  
Then 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 then Polixena.  
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home,  
When fame shall in her Hand sound her trump;  
And all the Greekish Girls shall tripping sing,  
Great Hector's sister did Achilles win;  
But our great Aiax bravely beat down him.  
Farewell my Lord: I as your lover speak;  
The fool slides over the Ice that you should break.  Patr. 
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 condemned 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 shaken to airy air.  Achil. 
Shall Aiax fight with Hector?  Patr. 
I, and perhaps receive much honour by him.  Achil. 
I see my reputation is at stake,  
My fame is shrewdly gored.  Patr. 
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.  Achil. 
Go call Thersites hither sweet Patroclus,  
I'll send the fool to Aiax, and desire him  
T' invite the Trojan Lords after the Combat  
To see us here unarmed: I have a woman's longing,  
An appetite that I am sick withal,  
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;  Enter Thersi. 
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,  
Even to my full of view. A labour saved.  Ther. 
A wonder.  Achil. 
What?  Ther. 
Aiax goes up and down the field, ask for himself.  Achil. 
How so?  Ther. 
He must fight singly to morrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.  Achil. 
How can that be?  Ther. 
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 his head and 'twoo'd 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 for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' th' combat, he'll break't himself in vainglory. He knows not me: I said, good morrow Aiax; And he replies, thanks Agamemnon, What think you of this man, that takes me for the General? he's grown a very land-fish, languagelesse, a monster: a plague of opinion, a man may wear it on both sides like a leather jerkin.  Achil. 
Thou must be my Ambassador to him Thersites.  Ther. 
Who, I: why▪ he'll answer no body: he professes not answering; speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in's arms: I will put on his presence; let Patroclus make his demands to me, you shall see the Pageant of Aiax.  Achil. 
To him Patroclus; tell him, I humbly desire the valiant Aiax, 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 feaven times honoured Captain, General of the Grecian Army Agamemnon, etc. do this.  Patro. 
jove bless great Aiax.  Ther. 
Hum.  Patr. 
I come from the worthy Achilles.  Ther. 
Ha'?  Patr. 
Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his Tent.  Ther. 
Hum.  Patr. 
And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon.  Ther. 
Agamemnon?  Patr. 
I my Lord.  Ther. 
Ha'?  Patr. 
What say you too't.  Ther. 
God buy you with all my heart.  Patr. 
Your anfwer sir.  Ther. 
If to morrow be a fair day, by eleven a clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me.  Patr. 
Your answer sir.  Ther. 
Far you well withal my heart.  Achil. 
Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?  Ther. 
No, but he's out a 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.  Achil. 
Come, thou shalt bear a Letter to him strait.  Ther. 
Let me carry another to his Horse; for that's the more capable creature.  Achil. 
My mind is troubled like a Fountain stirred,  
And I myself see not the bottom of it.  Ther. 
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.  Enter at one door Aeneas with a Torch, at another Paris, Diephoebus, Antenor, Diomedes the Grecian, with Torches. Par. 
See hoa, who is that there?  Dieph. 
It is the Lord Aeneas.  Aene. 
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.  Diom. 
That's my mind too: good morrow Lord Aeneas.  Par. 
A valiant Greek Aeneas, take his hand,  
Witness the process of your speech within;  
You told how Diomedes, in a whole week by days  
Did haunt you in the Field.  Aene. 
Health to you valiant sir,  
During all question of the gentle truce:  
But when I meet you armed, as black defiance,  
As heart can think, or courage execute.  Diom. 
The one and other Diomedes embraces,  
Our bloods are now in calm; and so long health:  
But when contention, and occasion meets,  
By jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,  
With all my force, pursuit and policy.  Aene. 
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,  Diom. 
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 dye:  
With every joint a wound, and that to morrow.  Aene. 
We know each other well.  Dio. 
We do, and long to know each other worse.  Par. 
This is the most, despightful'st gentle greeting;  
The noblest hateful love, that ere I heard of.  
What business Lord so early?  Aene. 
I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not.  Par. 
His purpose meets you; it was to bring this Greek  
To Calcha's house; and there to render him,  
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressida:  
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 whereof, I fear  
We shall be much unwelcome.  Aene. 
That I assure you:  
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,  
Then Cressida borne from Troy.  Par. 
There is no help:  
The bitter disposition of the time will have it so.  
On Lord, we'll follow you.  Aene. 
Good morrow all.  Exit Aeneas Par. 
And tell me noble Diomedes; faith tell me true,  
Even in the soul of sound good fellowship,  
Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most?  
Myself, or Menelaus?  Diom. 
Both alike.  
He merits well to have her, that doth seek her,  
Not making any scruple of her soylure,  
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge.  
And you as well to keep her, that defend her,  
Not pallating 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 poized, each weighs no less nor more,  
But he as he, which heavier for a whore.  Par. 
You are too bitter to your countrywoman.  Dio. 
she's bitter to her country: hear me Paris,  
For every false drop in her bawdy veins,  
A Grecians 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 Troyans' suffered death.  Par. 
Fair Diomedes, you do as chapmen do,  
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:  
But we in silence hold this virtue well;  
we'll not commend, what we intent to sell.  
Here lies our way.  Exeunt. Enter Troilus and Cressida. Troy. 
Dear trouble not yourself: the morn is cold.  Cres. 
Then sweet my Lord, I'll call mine Uncle down;  
He shall unbolt the Gates.  Troy. 
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.  Cres. 
Good morrow then.  Troy. 
I prithee now to bed.  Cres. 
Are you a weary of me?  Troy. 
O Cressida! but that the busy day  
Waked by the Lark, hath roused the ribald Crows,  
And dreaming night will hide our eyes no longer:  
I would not from thee.  Cres. 
Night hath been too brief.  Troy. 
Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays,  
As hidiously as hell; but flies the grasps of love,  
With wings more momentary, swift then thought:  
You will catch cold, and curse me.  Cres. 
Prithee tarry, you men will never tarry;  
O foolish Cressida, I might have still held off,  
And then you would have tarried. Hark, there's one up?  Pand. within. 
What's all the doors open here?  Troy. 
It is your Uncle.  Enter Pandarus. Cres. 
A pestilence on him: now will he be mocking:  
I shall have such a life.  Pan. 
How now, how now? how go maidenheads?  
Hear you Maid: where's my cousin Cressida?  Cres. 
Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking Uncle:  
You bring me to do— and then you flout me too.  Pan. 
To do what? to do what? let her say what:  
What have I brought you to do?  Cres. 
Come, come, beshrew your heart: you'll ne'er be good, nor suffer others.  Pan. 
Ha', ha': alas poor wretch: a poor Chipochia, hast not slept to night? would he not (a naughty man) let it sleep: a bugbear take him.  One knocks. Cres. 
Did not I tell you? would he were knocked i'th' head. 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.  Troy. 
Ha', ha'.  Cre. 
Come you are deceived, I think of no such thing.  
How earnestly they knock: pray you come in.  Knocke. 
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.  Exeunt Pan. 
Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now, what's the matter?  Aene. 
Good morrow Lord, good morrow.  Pan. 
Who's there my Lord Aeneas? by my troth I knew you not: what news with you so early?  Aene. 
Is not Prince Troilus here?  Pan. 
Here? what should he do here?  Aene. 
Come he is here, my Lord, do not deny him:  
It doth import him much to speak with me.  Pan. 
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?  Aene. 
Who, nay then: Come, come, you'll do him wrong, ere ye are 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.  Enter Troilus. Troy. 
How now, what's the matter?  Aene. 
My Lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you,  
My matter is so rash: there is at hand,  
Parish your brother, and Deiphoebus,  
The Grecian Diomedes, and our Antenor  
Delivered to us, and for him forthwith,  
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,  
We must give up to Diomedes' hand  
The Lady Cressida.  Troy. 
Is it concluded so?  Aene. 
By Priam, and the general state of Troy,  
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.  Troy. 
How my achievements mock me;  
I will go meet them: and my Lord Aeneas,  
We met by chance; you did not find me here.  Aen. 
Good, good, my Lord, the secrets of nature  
Have not more gift in taciturnity.  Exeunt. Enter Pandarus and Cressida. Pan. 
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 brok's neck.  Cres. 
How now? what's the matter? who was here?  Pan. 
Ah, ha'!  Cres. 
Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my Lord? gone? tell me sweet Uncle, what's the matter?  Pan. 
Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above.  Cres. 
O the gods! what's the matter?  Pan. 
Prithee get thee in: would thou hadst ne'er been borne; I knew thou wouldst be his death. O poor Gentleman: a plague upon Antenor.  Cres. 
Good Uncle I beseech you, on my knees, I beseech you what's the matter?  Pan. 
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▪  Cres. 
O you immortal gods! I will not go.  Pan. 
Thou must.  Cres. 
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 Cressida's name the very crown of falsehood!  
If ever she leave Troilus: time, orce and death,  
Do to this body what extremity 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 will go in and weep.  Pan. 
Do, do.  Cres. 
Tear my bright heir, 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. Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Deiphobus, Antenor and Diomedes. Par. 
It is great morning, and the hour prefixed  
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek  
Comes fast upon: good my brother Troilus,  
Tell you the Lady what she is to do,  
And hast her to the purpose.  Troy. 
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 heart.  Par. 
I know what 'tis to love,  
And would, as I shall pity, I could help.  
Please you walk in, my Lords.  Exeunt. Enter Pandarus and Cressida. Pan. 
Be moderate, be moderate.  Cres. 
Why tell you me of moderation?  
The grief is fine, full perfect that I taste,  
And no less in a sense as strong  
As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it?  
If I could temporise with my affection,  
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,  
The like alaiment could I give my grief:  
My love admits no qualifying cross;  Enter Troilus. 
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.  Pan. 
Here, here, here, he comes, a sweet duck.  Cres. 
O Troilus, Troilus!  Pan. 
What a pair of spectacles is here? let me embrace too: oh hart, as the goodly saying is; O heart, heavy heart, why sighest 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?  Troy. 
Cressida: I love thee in so strange a purity;  
That the blessed gods, as angry with my fancy,  
More bright in zeal, than the devotion which  
Cold lips blow to their Deities: take thee from me.  Cres. 
Have the gods envy?  Pan. 
I, I, I, I, 'tis too plain a case.  Cres. 
And is it true, that I must go from Troy?  Troy. 
A hateful truth.  Cres. 
What, and from Troilus too?  Troy. 
From Troy, and Troilus.  Cres. 
Is't possible?  Troy. 
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 locked 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 our  
Injurious time; now with a robbers haste  
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how.  
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,  
With distinct breath, and consigned kisses to them,  
He fumbles up into a lose adieu;  
And scants us with a single famished kiss,  
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.  Enter Aeneus. Aeneus within. 
My Lord, is the Lady ready?  Troy. 
Hark, you are called: some say the genius so  
Cries, come to him that instantly must dye.  
Bid them have patience: she shall come anon.  Pan. 
Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root.  Cres. 
I must then to the Grecians?  Troy. 
No remedy.  Cres. 
A woeful Cressida 'mong'st the merry Greeks.  Troy. 
When shall we see again?  Troy. 
Here me my love: be thou but true of heart.  Cres. 
I true? how now? what wicked deem is this?  Troy. 
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.  Cres. 
O you shall be exposed, my Lord to dangers  
As infinite, as imminent: but I'll be true.  Troy. 
And I'll grow friend with danger;  
Wear this Sleeve.  Cres. 
And you this Glove.  
When shall I see you?  Troy. 
I will corrupt the Grecian Sentinels,  
To give thee nightly visitation.  
But yet be true.  Cres. 
O heavens: be true again?  Troy. 
Hear why I speak it; Love:  
The Grecian youths are full of quality,  
Their loving well composed, with gift of nature,  
Flawing and swelling over with Arts and exercise:  
How novelties may move, and parts with person.  
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy;  
Which I beseech you call a virtuous sin:  
Makes me afraid.  Cres. 
O heavens, you love me not!  Troy. 
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.  Cres. 
Do you think I will:  Troy. 
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 changefull potency.  Aeneas within. 
Nay, good my Lord?  Troy. 
Come kiss, and let us part.  Parish within. 
Brother Troilus?  Troy. 
Good brother come you hither,  
And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you.  Cres. 
My Lord, will you be true?  Exit. Troy. 
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:  Enter the Greeks. 
Fear not my truth; the moral of my wit  
Is plain and true, there's all the reach of it.  
Welcome sir Diomedes, 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 ere thou stand at mercy of my Sword,  
Name Cressida, and thy life shall be as safe  
As Priam is in Illium?  Diom. 
Fair Lady Cressida,  
So please you save the thankes this Prince expects:  
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,  
Pleads your fair visage, and to Diomedes  
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.  Troy. 
Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,  
To shame the seal of my petition towards,  
I praising her. I tell thee Lord of Greece:  
She is as fare high soaring o'er thy praises,  
As thou unworthy to be called 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.  Diom. 
Oh 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 my 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.  Troy. 
Come to the Port. I'll tell thee Diomedes,  
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.  Sound Trumpet. Par. 
Hark, Hector's Trumpet.  Aene. 
How have we spent this morning  
The Prince must think me tardy and remiss,  
That swore to ride before him in the field.  Par. 
'Tis Troilus fault: come, come, to field with him.  Exeunt. Dio. 
Let us make ready strait.  Aene. 
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.  Enter Aiax armed, Achilles', Patroclus', Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, Calcas, etc. Aga. 
Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair,  
Anticipating time. With starting courage,  
Give with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy  
Thou dreadful Aiax, that the appalled air  
May pierce the head of the great Combatant,  
And hale him hither.  Aia. 
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 puffed Aquilon:  
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood:  
Thou blowest for Hector.  Vlis. 
No Trumpet answers.  Achil. 
'Tis but early days.  Aga. 
Is not young Diomedes with Calcas daughter?  Vlis. 
'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,  
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his  
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.  Aga. 
Is this the Lady Cressida?  Dio. 
Even she.  Aga. 
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet Lady.  Nest. 
Our General doth salute you with a kiss.  Vlis. 
Yet is the kindness but particular; 'twere better she were kissed in general.  Nest. 
And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. So much for Nestor.  Achil. 
I'll take that winter from your lips fair Lady Achilles bids you welcome.  Mene. 
I had good argument for kissing once.  Patro. 
But that's no argument for kissing now;  
For thus popped Paris in his hardiment.  Vlis. 
Oh deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns,  
For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns.  Patro. 
The first was Menelaus kiss, this mine:  
Patroclus kisses you.  Mene. 
Oh this is trim.  Patr. 
Paris and I kiss evermore for him.  Mene. 
I'll have my kiss sir: Lady by your leave.  Cres. 
In kissing do you render, or receive.  Patr. 
Both take and give.  Cres. 
I'll make my match to live,  
The kiss you take is better than you give: therefore no kiss.  Mene. 
I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one.  Cres. 
You are an odd man, give even, or give none.  Mene. 
An odd man Lady, every man is odd.  Cres. 
No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true,  
That you are odd, and he is even with you.  Mene. 
You fillip me o' th' head.  Cres. 
No, I'll be sworn.  Vlis. 
It were no match, your nail against his horn:  
May I sweet Lady beg a kiss of you?  Cres. 
You may.  Vlis. 
I do desire it.  Cres. 
Why beg then?  Vlis. 
Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss:  
When Helen is a maid again, and his—  Cres. 
I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.  Vlis. 
Neuer's my day, and then a kiss of you.  Diom. 
Lady a word, I'll bring you to your Father.  Nest. 
A woman of quick sense.  Vlis. 
Fie, fie, upon her:  
there's a 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:  
Oh these encounterers so glib of tongue,  
That give a coasting welcome eat it comes;  
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts,  
To every tickling reader: set them down,  
For sluttish spoils of opportunity;  
And daughters of the game.  Exeunt. Enter all of Troy, Hector, Paris, Aeneas, Helenus' and Attendants. Flourish. All. 
The Troyans' Trumpet.  Aga. 
Yonder comes the troop.  Aene. 
Hail all you state of Greece: what shallbe 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?  Aga. 
Which way would Hector have it?  Aene. 
He cares not, he'll obey conditions.  Aga. 
'Tis done like Hector, but securely done,  
A little proudly, and great deal disprising  
The Knight opposed.  Aene. 
If not Achilles' sir, what is your name?  Achil. 
If not Achilles, nothing.  Aene. 
Therefore Achilles: but what ere, 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 Aiax 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.  Achil. 
A maiden battle then? O I perceive you.  Aga. 
Here is sir, Diomedes: go gentle Knight,  
Stand by our Aiax: as you and Lord Aeneas  
Consent upon the order of their fight,  
So be it: either to the uttermost,  
Or else a breach: the Combatants being kin,  
Half stints their strife, before their strokes begin.  Vlis. 
They are opposed already.  Aga. 
What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy?  Vlis. 
The youngest Son of Priam;  
A true Knight; they call him Troilus;  
Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word,  
Speaking in deeds, and deedelesse in his tongue;  
Not soon provoked, nor being provoked, soon calmed;  
His heart and hand both open, and both free:  
For what he has, he gives; what thinks, he shows;  
Yet gives he not till judgement guide his bounty,  
Nor dignifies an impair 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 vindecative 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 Illium thus translate him to me.  Alarm. Aga. 
They are in action.  Nest. 
Now Aiax hold thine own.  Troy. 
Hector, thou sleepest, awake thee.  Aga. 
His blows are well disposed there Aiax.  trumpet's cease. Diom. 
You must no more.  Aene. 
Princes enough, so please you.  Aia. 
I am not warm yet, let us fight again.  Diom. 
As Hector pleases.  Hect. 
Why then will I no more:  
Thou art great Lord, my Father's sisters Son;  
A cousin german to great Priam's seed:  
The obligation of our blood forbids  
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain:  
Were thy commixion, 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 fathers: 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 borrwd'st from thy mother,  
My sacred Aunt, should by my mortal Sword  
Be drained. Let me embrace thee Aiax:  
By him that thunders, thou hast lusty Arms;  
Hector would have them fall upon him thus.  
Cousin, all honour to thee.  Aia. 
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.  Hect. 
Not Neoptolymus so mirable,  
On whose bright crest, fame with her loudest (O yes)  
Cries, This is he; couldst promise to himself,  
A thought of added honour, torn from Hector.  Aene. 
There is expectance here from both the sides,  
What further you will do?  Hect. 
we'll answer it:  
The issue is embracement: Aiax, farewell.  Aia. 
If I might in entreaties find success,  
As seld I have the chance; I would desire  
My famous Cousin to our Grecian Tents.  Diom. 
'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles  
Doth long to see unarmed the valiant Hector.  Hect. 
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.  Enter Agamemnon and the rest. Aia. 
Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.  Hect. 
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.  Aga. 
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 strewed with husks  
And formelesse ruin of oblivion:  
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,  
Strained purely from all hollow bias drawing:  
Bids thee with most divine integrity.  
From heart of very heart, great Hector welcome.  Hect. 
I thank thee most imperious Agamemnon.  Aga. 
My well-famed Lord of Troy, no less to you.  Men. 
Let me confirm my Princely brother's greeting,  
You brace of warlike Brothers, welcome hither.  Hect. 
Who must we answer?  Aene. 
The Noble Menelaus.  Hect. 
O, you my Lord, by Mars his gauntlet thanks,  
Mock not, that I affect th' untraded Oath,  
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' Glove  
she's well, but bade me not commend her to you.  Men. 
Name her not now sir, she's a deadly Theme.  Hect. 
O pardon, I offend.  Nest. 
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,  
And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements,  
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air,  
Not letting it decline, on the declined:  
That I have said unto 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 hemmed thee in,  
Like an Olympian wrestling. This have I seen,  
But this thy countenance (still locked 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 like thee. Let an oldman embrace thee,  
And (worthy Warrior) welcome to our Tents.  Aene. 
'Tis the old Nestor.  Hect. 
Let me embrace thee good old Chronicle,  
That hast so long walked hand in hand with time:  
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.  Ne. 
I would my arms could match thee in contention  
As they contend with thee in courtesy.  Hect. 
I would they could.  Nest. 
Ha'? by this white beard I'd fight with thee to morrow. Well, welcome, welcome: I have seen the time.  Vlys. 
I wonder now, how yonder City stands,  
When we have here her Base and pillar by us.  Hect. 
I know your favour Lord Ulysses well.  
Ah sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,  
Since first I saw yourself, and Diomedes  
In Illium, on your Greekish Embassy.  Vlys. 
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.  Hect. 
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 crown all,  
And that old common Arbitrator, Time,  
Will one day end it.  Vlys. 
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.  Achil. 
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.  Hect. 
Is this Achilles?  Achil. 
I am Achilles.  Hect. 
Stand fair I prithee, let me look on thee.  Achil. 
Behold thy fill.  Hect. 
Nay, I have done already.  Achil. 
Thou art to brief, I will the second time,  
As I would buy thee, view thee, limb by limb.  Hect. 
O like a Book of sport thou'lt read me over:  
But there's more in me then thou understandest.  
Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?  Achil. 
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 fl●w. Answer me heavens.  Hect. 
It would discredit the blessed Gods, proud man,  
To answer such a question: Stand again;  
Thinkest thou to catch my life so pleasantly,  
As to prenominate in nice conjecture  
Where thou wilt hit me dead?  Achil. 
I tell thee yea.  Hect. 
Wert thou the 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 stythied Mars his helm,  
I'll kill thee every where, yea, over and over.  
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—  Aiax. 
Do not chafe thee Cousin:  
And you Achilles, let these threats alone  
Till accident, or purpose bring you too't.  
You may every day enough of Hector.  
If you have stomach. The general state I fear,  
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.  Hect. 
I pray you let us see you in the field,  
We have had pelting Wars since you refused  
The Grecians cause.  Achil. 
Dost thou entreat me Hector?  
To morrow do I meet thee fell as death,  
To night, all Friends.  Hect. 
Thy hand upon that match.  Aga. 
First, all you Peers of Greece go to my Tent,  
There in the full convive you: Afterwards,  
As Hector's leisure, and your bounties shall  
Concur together, severally entreat him.  
Beat loud the Tabourins, let the Trumpets blow,  
That this great Soldier may his welcome know.  Exeunt Troy. 
My Lord Ulysses, tell me I beseech you,  
In what place of the Field doth Calchas keep?  Vlys. 
At Menelaus' Tent, most Princely Troilus,  
There Diomedes doth feast with him to night,  
Who neither looks on heaven, nor on earth,  
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view  
On the fair Cressida.  Troy. 
Shall I (sweet Lord) be bound to thee so much,  
After we part from Agamemnon's Tent,  
To bring me thither?  Vlys. 
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?  Troy. 
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. Enter Achilles, and Patroclus'. Achil. 
I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to night,  
Which with my Cemitar I'll cool to morrow:  
Patroclus, let us Feast him to the height.  Pat. 
here comes Thersites.  Enter Thersites. Achil. 
How now, thou core of Envy?  
Thou crusty batch of Nature, what's the news?  Ther. 
Why thou picture of what thou seem'st, & I doll of Ideot-worshippers, here's a Letter for thee.  Achil. 
From whence, Fragment?  Ther. 
Why thou full dish of Fool, from Troy.  Pat. 
Who keeps the Tent now?  Ther. 
The Surgeon's box, or the Patient's wound.  Patr. 
Well said adversity, and what need these tricks?  Ther. 
Prithee be silent boy, I profit not by thy talk, thou art thought to be Achilles' male Varlet.  Patro. 
Male Varlet you Rogue? What's that?  Ther. 
Why his masculine Whore. Now the rotten diseases of the South, guts-griping Ruptures, Catarrhs, Loads a gravel i' th' back, Lethargies, cold Palsies, and the like, take and take again, such preposterous discoveries.  Pat. 
Why thou damnable box of envy thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?  Ther. 
Do I curse thee?  Patr. 
Why no, you ruinous But, you whoreson indistinguishable Cur.  Ther. 
No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle, immaterial skiene of Sleyd silk; thou green Sarsenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a Prodigals purse thou:  
Ah how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies, diminutives of Nature.  Pat. 
Out gall.  Ther. 
Finch Egg.  Ach. 
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 gauging me to keep  
An Oath that I have sworn. I will not break it,  
Fall Greeks, fail Fame, Honour or go, or stay,  
My mayor 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.  Exit. Ther. 
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 love's Quails, but he has not so much Brain as eare-wax; and the goodly transformation of jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, the primative Statue, and obliqne memorial of Cuckolds, a thrifty shooing-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 too: 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 Fitchow, 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: sot I care not to be the louse of a Lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Heyday, spirits and fires.  Enter Hector, Aiax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, with Lights. Aga. 
We go wrong, we go wrong.  Aiax. 
No yonder'tis, there where we see the light.  Hect. 
I trouble you.  Aiax. 
No, not a whit.  Enter Achilles. Vlys. 
here comes himself to guide you?  Achil. 
Welcome brave Hector, welcome Princes all.  Agam. 
So now fair Prince of Troy, I bid goodnight,  
Aiax commands the guard to tend on you.  Hect. 
Thanks, and goodnight to the Greeks general.  Men. 
Good-night my Lord.  Hect. 
Good-night sweet Lord Menelaus.  Ther. 
Sweet draught: sweet quotha? sweet sink, sweet sure.  Achil. 
Good-night and welcome, both at once, to those that go, or tarry.  Aga. 
Good-night.  Achil. 
Old Nestor tarries, and you too Diomedes,  
Keep Hector company an hour, or two.  Dio. 
I cannot Lord, I have important business,  
The tide whereof is now, good-night great Hector.  Hect. 
Give me your hand.  Vlys. 
Fellow his Torch, he goes to Chalcas Tent,  
I'll keep you company.  Troy. 
Sweet sir, you honour me.  Hect. 
And so good night.  Achil. 
Come, come, enter my Tent.  Exeunt. Ther. 
That same Diomed's a falsehearted 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 & promise, like Brabler the Hound; but when he performs, Astronomers foretell it, that it is prodigious, there will come some change; the Sun borrows of the Moon when Diomedes 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 Chalcas his Tent. I'll after— Nothing but Lechery? All incontinent Varlets.  Exeunt Enter Diomed. Dio. 
What are you up here ho? speak?  Chal. 
Who calls?  Dio. 
Diomedes, Chalcas (I think) where's you Daughter?  Chal. 
She comes to you.  Enter Troilus and Ulysses. Vlis. 
Stand where the Torch may not discover us.  Enter Cressida. Troy. 
Cressida comes forth to him.  Dio. 
How now my charge?  Cres. 
Now my sweet guardian: hark a word with you.  Troy. 
Yea, so familiar?  Vlis. 
She will sing any man at first sight.  Ther. 
And any man may find her, if he can take her life: she's noted.  Dio. 
Will you remember?  Cal. 
Remember? yes.  Dio. 
Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled with your words.  Troy. 
What should she remember?  Vlis. 
List?  Cres. 
Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.  Ther. 
Roguery.  Dio. 
Nay then.  Cres. 
I'll tell you what.  Dio. 
Foyes, foe, come tell a pin, you are a forsworn.—  Cres. 
In faith I cannot: what would you have me do?  Ther. 
A juggling trick, to be secretly open.  Dio. 
What did you swear you would bestow on me?  Cres. 
I prithee do not hold me to mine oath,  
Bid me do not any thing but that sweet Greek.  Dio. 
Good night.  Troy. 
Hold, patience.  Vlis. 
How now Trojan?  Cres. 
Diomed.  Dio. 
No, no, good night: I'll be your fool no more.  Troy. 
Thy better must.  Cres. 
Hark one word in your ear.  Troy. 
O plague and madness!  Vlis. 
You are moved Prince, let us departed I pray you,  
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself  
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;  
The time right deadly: I beseech you go.  Troy. 
Behold, I pray you.  Vlis. 
Nay, good my Lord go off:  
You flow to great distraction; come my Lord?  Troy. 
I pray thee stay?  Vlis. 
You have not patience, come.  Troy. 
I pray you stay? by hell and hell torments,  
I will not speak a word.  Dio. 
And so good night.  Cres. 
Nay, but you part in anger.  Troy. 
Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth!  Vlis. 
Why, how now Lord?  Troy. 
By jove I will be patiented.  Cres. 
Guardian? why Greek?  Dio. 
Foyes, foe, adieu, you palter,  Cres. 
In faith I do not: come hither once again.  Vlis. 
You shake my Lord at something; will you go? you will break out.  Troy. 
She strokes his cheek.  Vlis. 
Come, come.  Troy. 
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.  Ther. 
How the devil Luxury with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together: fry lechery, fry.  Dio. 
But will you then?  Cres. 
In faith I will lo; never trust me else.  Dio. 
Give me some token for the surety of it.  Cres. 
I'll fetch you one.  Exit. Vlis. 
You have sworn patience.  Troy. 
Fear me not sweet Lord.  
I will not be myself, nor have cognition  
Of what I feel: I am all patience.  Enter Cressida. Ther. 
Now the pledge, now, now, now.  Cres. 
Here Diomedes, keep this Sleeve.  Troy. 
O beauty! where is thy Faith?  Vlis. 
My Lord.  Troy. 
I will be patiented, outwardly I will.  Cres. 
You look upon that Sleeve? behold it well:  
He loved me: O false wench: give't me again.  Dio. 
Whose was't?  Cres. 
It is no matter now I have't again.  
I will not meet with you to morrow night:  
I prithee Diomedes visit me no more.  Ther. 
Now she sharpens: well said Whetstone.  Dio. 
I shall have it.  Cres. 
What, this?  Dio. 
I that.  Cres. 
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.  Dio. 
Nay, do not snatch it from me.  Cres. 
He that takes that, rakes my heart withal.  Dio. 
I had your heart before, this follows it.  Troy. 
I did swear patience.  Cres. 
You shall not have it Diomedes; faith you shall not:  
I'll give you something else.  Dio. 
I will have this: whose was it?  Cres. 
It is no matter.  Dio. 
Come tell me whose it was?  Cres. 
'Twas one that loved me better than you will.  
But now you have it, take it.  Dio. 
Whose was it?  Cres. 
By all Dianas waiting women yond:  
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.  Dio. 
To morrow will I wear it on my Helm,  
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.  Troy. 
Wert thou the devil, and worest it on thy horn.  
It should be challenged.  Cres. 
Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not:  
I will not keep my word.  Dio. 
Why then farewell,  
Thou never shalt mock Diomedes again.  Cres. 
You shall not go: one cannot speak a word,  
But it straight starts you.  Dio. 
I do not like this fooling.  Ther. 
Nor I by Pluto: but that that likes not me, pleases me best.  Dio. 
What shall I come? the hour.  Cres. 
I, come: O jove! do, come: I shall be plagued.  Dio. 
Farewell till then.  Exit. Cres. 
Good night: I prithee come:  
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 swayed by eyes, are full of turpitude.  Exit. Ther. 
A proof of strength she could not publish more;  
Unless she say, my mind is now turned whore.  Vlis. 
all's done my Lord.  Troy. 
It is.  Vlis. 
Why stay we then?  Troy. 
To make a recordation to my soul  
Of every syllable that here was spoke:  
But if I tell how these two did coact;  
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 that test of eyes and ears;  
As if those organs had deceptious functions,  
Created only to calumniate.  
Was Cressida here?  Vlis. 
I cannot conjure Trojan.  Troy. 
She was not sure.  Vlis. 
Most sure she was.  Troy. 
Why my negation hath no taste of madness?  Vlis. 
Nor mine my Lord: Cressida was here but now.  Troy. 
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 Cressida's rule. Rather think this not Cressida.  Vlis. 
What hath she done Prince, that can soil our mothers?  Troy. 
Nothing at all, unless that this were she.  Ther. 
Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?  Troy. 
This she? no, this is Diomids Cressida:  
If beauty have a soul, this is not she:  
If souls guide vows; if vows are sanctimony;  
If sanctimony be the god's delight:  
If there be rule in unity itself,  
This is not she: O madness of discourse  
That cause sets up, with, and against thyself  
By foul authority: where reason can revolt  
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason,  
Without revolt. This is, and is not Cressida:  
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 Ariachnes' broken woof to enter:  
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates:  
Cressida is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven;  
Instance, O instance, strong as heaven itself:  
The bonds of heaven are slipped, 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 ore-eaten faith, are bound to Diomedes  Vlis. 
May worthy Troilus be half attached  
With that which here his passion doth express?  Troy. 
I Greeke: 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 fixed a soul.  
Hark Greek: as much I do Cressida love;  
So much by weight, hate I her Diomedes,  
That Sleeve is mine, that he'll bear in his Helm:  
Were it a Cask composed by Vulcan's skill,  
My Sword should bite it: Not the dreadful spout,  
Which Shipmen do the Hurricane call,  
Constringed in mass by the almighty Fen,  
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear  
In his descent; then shall my prompted sword,  
Falling on Diomed.  Ther. 
he'll tickle it for his concupie.  Troy. 
O Cressida! O false Cressida! false, false, false:  
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,  
And they'll seem glorious.  Vlis. 
O contain yourself:  
Your passion draws ears hither.  Enter Aeneas. Aene. 
I have been seeking you this hour my Lord:  
Hector by this is arming him in Troy.  
Aiax your Guard, stays to conduct you home.  Troy. 
Have with you Prince: my courteous Lord adieu:  
Farewell revolted fair: and Diomedes,  
Stand fast, and wear a Castle on thy head.  Vli. 
I'll bring you to the Gates.  Troy. 
Accept distracted thankes.  Exeunt Troilus, Aeneas, and Ulysses. Ther. 
Would I could meet that rogue Diomedes, 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.  Enter Hector and Andromache. And. 
When was my Lord so much ungently tempered,  
To stop his ears against admonishment?  
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to day.  Hect. 
You train me to offend you: get you gone.  
By the everlasting gods, I'll go.  And. 
My dreams will sure prove ominous to the day.  Hect. 
No more I say.  Enter Cassandra. Cassa. 
Where is my brother Hector?  And. 
Here sister, armed, and bloody in intent:  
Consort with me in loud and dear petition:  
Pursue we him on knees: for I have dreamt  
Of bloody turbulence; and this whole night  
Hath nothing been but shapes, and forms of slaughter.  Cass. 
O, 'tis true.  Hect. 
Ho? bid my Trumpet sound.  Cass. 
No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother.  Hect. 
Begun I say: the gods have heard me swear.  Cass. 
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;  
They are polluted offerings, more abhorred  
Than spotted Livers in the sacrifice.  And. 
O be persuaded, do not count it holy,  
To hurt by being just; it is as lawful:  
For we would count give much to as violent thefts,  
And rob in the behalf of charity.  Cass. 
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;  
But vows to every purpose must not hold:  
Vnatme sweet Hector.  Hect. 
Hold you still I say;  
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate:  
Life every man holds dear, but the dear man  
Holds honour fare more precious, dear, than life.  Enter Troilus. 
How now young man? meanest thou to fight to day?  And. 
Cassandra, call my father to persuade.  Exit Cassandra. Hect. 
No faith young Troilus; doff thy harness youth:  
I am to day i'th' vain of Chivalry:  
Let grow thy Sinews till their knots be strong;  
And tempt nor 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.  Troy. 
Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you;  
Which better fits a Lion, than a man.  Hect. 
What vice is that? good Troilus chide me for it.  Troy. 
When many times the captive Grecian falls,  
Even in the fan and wind of your fair Sword:  
You bid them rise, and live.  Hect. 
O 'tis fair play.  Troy. 
Fool's play, by heaven Hector.  Hect. 
How now? how now?  Troy. 
For th' love of all the gods  
Let's leave the Hermit Pity with our Mothers;  
And when we have our Armours buckled on,  
The venomed vengeance ride upon our swords,  
Spur them to ruthful work, reine them from ruth.  Hect. 
Fie savage, fie.  Troy. 
Hector, then 'tis wars.  Hect. 
Troilus, I would not have you fight to day.  Troy. 
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 ore-galled with recourse of tears;  
Nor you my brother, with your true sword drawn  
Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way:  
But by my ruin.  Enter Priam and Cassandra. Cass. 
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 dreamt: 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. 
I, but thou shalt not go,  Hect. 
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.  Cass. 
O Priam, yield not to him.  And. 
Do not dear father.  Hect. 
Andromache I am offended with you:  
Upon the love you bear me, get you in.  Exit Andromache. Troy. 
This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl,  
Makes all these bodements.  Cass. 
O farewell, dear Hector:  
Look how thou diest; look how thy eye turns pale:  
Look how thy wounds doth bleed at many vents:  
Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;  
How poor Andromache shrils her dolour forth;  
Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement,  
Like witless Antics one another meet,  
And all cry Hector, Hector's dead: O Hector!  Troy. 
Away, away.  Cas. 
Farewell: yes, soft: Hector I take my leave;  
Thou dost thyself, and all our Troy deceive.  Exit. Hect. 
You are amazed, my Liege, at her exclaim:  
Go in and cheer the Town, we'll forth and fight:  
Do deeds of praise, and tell you them at night.  Priam. 
Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee.  Alarm. Troy. 
They are at it, hark: proud Diomedes, believe  
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.  Enter Pandarus. Pand. 
Do you hear my Lord? do you hear?  Troy. 
What now?  Pand. 
Here's a Letter come from yond poor girl.  Troy. 
Let me read.  Pand. 
A whoreson tissick, a whoreson rascally tissick, so troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one o' this 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?  Troy. 
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart;  
Th' effect doth operate another way.  
Go wind to wind, there turn and change together:  
My love with words and errors still she feeds;  
But edifies another with her deeds.  Pand. 
Why, but hear you?  Troy. 
Hence brother lackey; ignomy and shame  
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.  A Alarm. Exeunt. Enter Thersites in excursion. Ther. 
Now they are clapper-clawing one another, I'll go look on: that dissembling abominable varlet Diomedes, 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 love's the whore there, might send that Greekish whore-maisterly villain, with the Sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeveless errant. O' th' other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals; that stole old Mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor: and that same dog-foxe Ulysses is not proved worth a Black-berry. They set me up in policy, that mongrel cur Aiax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles. And now is the cur Aiax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proclaim barbarism; and policy grows into an ill opinion.  Enter Diomedes and Troilus. 
Soft, here comes Sleeve, and th' other.  Troy. 
Fly not: for shouldst thou take the River Styx,  
I would swim after.  Diom. 
Thou dost miscall retire:  
I do not fly; but advantageous care  
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude:  
Have at thee?  Ther. 
Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore Trojan: Now the Sleeve, now the Sleeve.  Enter Hector. Hect. 
What art thou Greek? art thou for Hector's match?  
Art thou of blood, and honour?  Ther. 
No, no: I am a rascal: a scurvy railing knave: a very filthy rogue.  Hect. 
I do believe thee, live.  Ther. 
God a mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck— for frighting 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 ears itself: I'll seek them.  Exit. Enter Diomedes and Servants. Dio. 
Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus Horse;  
Present the fair Steed to my Lady Cressida:  
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;  
Tell her, I have chastised the amorous Trojan.  
And am her Knight by proof.  Ser. 
I go my Lord.  Enter Agamemnon. Aga. 
Renew, renew, the fierce Polidamus  
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon  
Hath Doreus prisoner.  
And stands Calossus-wise waving his beam,  
Upon the pashed courses of the Kings:  
Epistropus and Cedus, Polixines is slain;  
Amphimacus, and Thou deadly hurt;  
Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes  
Sore hurt and bruised; the dreadful Sagittary  
Appauls' our numbers, haste we Diomedes  
To re-enforcement, or we perish all.  Enter Nestor. Nest. 
Coe bear Patroclus body to Achilles,  
And bid the snaile-paced Aiax 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 a foot,  
And there they fly or dye, like scaled skulls,  
Before the belching Whale; then is he yonder,  
And there the straying 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 called impossibility.  Enter Ulysses. Vlis. 
Oh, 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, hacked and chipped, come to him;  
Crying on Hector. Aiax hath lost a friend,  
And foams at mouth, and he is armed, 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 Aiax. Aia. 
Troilus, thou coward Troilus.  Exit. Dio. 
I, there, there.  Nest. 
So, so, we draw together.  Exit. Enter Achilles. Achil. 
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.  Exit. Enter Aiax. Aia. 
Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head.  Enter Diomed. Diom. 
Troilus, I say, where's Troilus?  Aia. 
What wouldst thou?  Diom. 
I would correct him.  Aia. 
Were I the General,  
Thou shouldst have my office,  
Ere that correction: Troilus I say, what Troilus?  Enter Troilus. Troy. 
Oh traitor Diomedes!  
Turn thy false face thou traitor,  
And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse.  Dio. 
Ha', art thou there?  Aia. 
I'll fight with him alone, stand Diomed.  Dio. 
He is my prize, I will not look upon.  Troy. 
Come both you cogging greeks, have at you both.  Exit Troilus. Enter Hector. Hect. 
Yea Troilus? O well fought my youngest Brother.  Enter Achilles. Achil. 
Now do I see thee; have at thee Hector.  Hect. 
Pause if thou wilt.  Achil. 
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. Hect. 
Far thee well:  
I would have been much more a fresher man,  
Had I expected thee: how now my Brother?  Enter Troilus. Troy. 
Aiax 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 wreak nor, though thou end my life to day.  Exit. Enter one in Armour. Hect. 
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.  Exit. Enter Achilles with Myrmidons. Achil. 
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,  
Impale him with your weapons round about:  
In fellest manner execute your arm.  
Fellow me sirs, and my proceed eye;  
It is decreed, Hector the great must dye.  Exit. Enter Thersites, Menelaus, and Paris. Ther. 
The Cuckold and the Cuckold maker are at it: now bull, now dog, low; Paris low; now my double hened sparrow; low Paris, low; the bull has the game: aware horns ho?  Exit Paris and Menelaus. Enter Bastard. Bast. 
Turn slave and fight.  Ther. 
What art thou?  Bast. 
A Bastard Son of Priam's.  Ther. 
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 judgement: farewell Bastard.  Bast. 
The devil take thee coward.  Exeunt. Enter Hector. Hect. 
Most putrified core so fair without:  
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.  
Now is my days work done; I'll take good breath:  
Rest Sword, thou hast thy fill of blood and death.  Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons. Achil. 
Look Hector how the Sun gins to set;  
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels,  
Even with the veil and darking of the Sun.  
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.  Hect. 
I am unarmed, forgo this vantage Greek.  Achil. 
Strike fellows, strike, this is the man I seek.  
So Illium fall thou: now Troy sink down;  
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.  
On Myrmidons, cry you all a main,  
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.  Retreat. 
Hark, a retreat upon our Grecian part.  Gree. 
The Trojan Trumpets sounds the like my Lord.  Achi. 
The dragon wing of night ore-spreds the earth  
And stickler-like the Armies separates  
My half supped Sword, that frankly would have fed,  
Pleased with this dainty bed; thus goes to bed.  
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;  
Along the field, I will the Trojan trail.  Exeunt. Sound Retreat. Shout. Enter Agamemnon, Aiax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and the rest marching. Aga. 
Hark, hark, what shout is that?  Nest. 
Peace Drums.  Sold. 
Achilles, Achilles, Hector's slain, Achilles.  Dio. 
The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles.  Aia. 
If it be so, yet braglesse let it be:  
Great Hector was a man as good as he.  Agam. 
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. Enter Aeneas, Paris, Antenor and Deiphoebus. Aene. 
Stand ho, yet are we masters of the field,  
Never go home; here starve we out the night.  Enter Troilus. Troy. 
Hector is slain.  All. 
Hector? the gods forbidden.  Troy. 
he's dead: and at the murderer's Horses tail,  
In beastly sort, dragged through the shameful Field▪  
Frown on you heavens, effect your rage with speed:  
Sat 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.  Aene. 
My Lord, you do discomfort all the Host.  Troy. 
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 screechoule aye be called,  
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;  
Cool 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; & 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 frenzies thoughts.  
Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort go:  
Hope of revenge, shall hide our inward woe.  Enter Pandarus. Pand. 
But hear you? hear you?  Troy. 
Hence broker, lackey, ignomy, and shame  
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.  Exeunt. Pan. 
A goodly medicine for mine aching bones: oh world, world, world! thus is the poor agent despised: Oh traitors and bawds; how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited? why should our endeavour be so desired, 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 clothes;  
As many as be here of Panders 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-dore 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 hisse:  
Till then, I'll sweat, and seek about for eases;  
And at that time be queath you my diseases.  Exeunt.   
FINIS.   

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter a Company of Mutinous Citizens, with Staffs, Clubs, and other weapons. 1. Citizen. 
BEfore we proceed any further, hear me speak.  All. 
Speak, speak.  1. Cit 
You are all resolved rather to die then to famish?  All. 
Resolved, resolved.  1. Cit 
First you know, Caius Martius' is chief enemy to the people.  All. 
We know't, we know't.  1. Cit 
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  2. Cit 
One word, good Citizens.  1. Cit 
We are accounted poor Citizens, the Patricians good: what Authority surfeits one, 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.  2. Cit 
Would you proceed especially against Caius Martius.  All. 
Against him first: He's a very dog to the Commonalty.  2. Cit 
Consider you what Services he has done for his Country?  1. Cit 
Very well, and could be content to give him good report for't, but that he pays himself with being proud.  All. 
Nay, but speak not maliciously.  1. Cit 
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 to the altitude of his virtue.  2. Cit 
What he cannot help in his Nature, you account a Vice in him: You must in no way say he is covetous.  1. Cit 
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' th' City is risen: why stay we prating here? To th' Capitol.  All. 
Come, come.  1 Cit 
Soft, who comes here?  Enter Menenius Agrippa. 2 Cit 
Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath always loved the people.  1 Cit 
He's one honest enough, would all the rest were so.  Men. 
What work's my Countrymen in hand?  
Where go you with Bats and Clubs? The matter  
Speak I pray you.  2 Cit 
Our business is not unknown to th' Senate, they have had inkling this fortnight what we intent to do, with now we'll show 'em in deeds: they say poor Suitors have strong breaths, they shall know we have strong arms too.  Menen. 
Why Masters, my good Friends, mine honest Neighbours, will you undo yourselves?  2 Cit 
We cannot Sir, we are undone already.  Men. 
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 staffs, as lift them  
Against the Roman State, whose course will on  
The way it takes: cracking ten thousand Curbs  
Of more strong link asunder, then 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' th' State; who care for you like Fathers,  
When you curse them, as Enemies.  2 Cit 
Care for us? True indeed, they ne'er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their Storehouses crammed with Graine: 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.  Menen. 
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 scaleed a little more.  2 Citizen. 
Well,  
I'll hear it Sir: yet you must not think  
To fobbe off our disgrace with a tale:  
But an't please you deliver.  Men. 
There was a time, when all the bodies members  
Rebelled against the Belly; thus accused it:  
That only like a Gulf it did remain  
I' th' midst a th' body, idle and unactive,  
Still cubbording the Viand, never bearing  
Like labour with the rest, where th' 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 answered.  2. Cit 
Well sir, what answer made the Belly.  Men. 
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 taintingly replied  
To ' th' discontented Members, the mutinous parts  
That envied his receit: even so most fitly,  
As you malign our Senators, for that  
They are not such as you.  2. Cit 
Your Bellies 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—  Men. 
What then? Foreme, this Fellow speaks.  
What then? What then?  2 Cit 
Should by the Cormorant belly be restrained,  
Who is the sink a th' body.  Men. 
Well, what then?  2. Cit 
The former Agents, if they did complain,  
What could the Belly answer?  Men. 
I will tell you,  
If you'll bestow a small (of what you have little)  
Patience awhile; you'st hear the Bellies answer.  2. Cit 
YE are long about it.  Men. 
Note me this good Friend;  
Your most grave Belly was deliberate,  
Not rash like his Accusers, and thus answered.  
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 Storehouse, 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 th' seat o' th' 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.  2. Cit 
I sir, well, well.  Men. 
Though all at once, cannot  
See what I do deliver out to each,  
Yet I can make my Awdit up, that all  
From me do back receive the Flower of all,  
And leave me but the Bran. What say you too't?  2. Cit 
It was an answer, how apply you this?  Men. 
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' th' 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?  2. Cit 
I the great Toe? Why the great Toe?  Men. 
For that being one o' th' lowest, basest, poorest  
Of this most wise Rebellion, thou goest foremost:  
Thou Rascal, that art worst in blood to run,  
Leadest 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 bail.  Enter Caius Martius'. 
Hail, Noble Martius.  Mar. 
Thanks. What's the matter you dissentious rogues  
That rubbing the poor Itch of your Opinion,  
Make yourselves Scabs.  2. Cit 
We have ever your good word.  Mar. 
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,  
Then 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 vild, 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?  Men. 
For Corn at their own rates, whereof they say  
The City is well stored.  Mar. 
Hang 'em: They say?  
They'll sit by th' fire, and presume to know  
What's done i' th' Capitol: Who's like to rise,  
Who thrives, & who declines: Side factions, & 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'd make a Quarry  
With thousands of these quartered slaves, as high  
As I could pick my Lance.  Menen. 
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?  Mar. 
They are dissolved: Hang 'em;  
They said they were an hungry, sighed 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 Complain, which being answered  
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' th' Moon,  
Shooting their Emulation.  Menen. 
What is granted them?  Mar. 
Five Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdome  
Of their own choice. One's junius Brutus,  
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. 'Sdeath,  
The rabble should have first vnroo'ft the City  
Ere so prevailed with me; it will in time  
Winifrid upon power, and throw forth greater Themes  
For Insurrections arguing.  Menen. 
This is strange.  Mar. 
Go get you home you Fragments.  Enter a Messenger hastily. Mess. 
Where's Caius Martius?  Mar. 
here: what's the matter?  Mes. 
The news is sir, the Volcies are in Arms.  Mar. 
I am glad on't, than we shall ha' means to vent  
Our musty superfluity. See our best Elders.  Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other Senators. 1. Sen. 
Martius' 'tis true, that you have lately told us,  
The Volces are in Arms.  Mar. 
They have a Leader,  
Tullus Auffidius that will put you too't:  
I sin in envying his Nobility:  
And were I any thing but what I am,  
I would wish me only he.  Com. 
You have fought together?  Mar. 
Were half to half the world by th' ears, & he upon my party, I'd revolt to make  
Only my wars with him. He is a Lion  
That I am proud to hunt.  1. Sen. 
Then worthy Martius,  
Attend upon Cominius to these Wars.  Com. 
It is your former promise.  Mar. 
Sir it is,  
And I am constant: Titus Lucius, thou  
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus face.  
What art thou stiff? Standest out?  Tit. 
No Caius Martius,  
I'll lean upon one Crutch, and fight with other,  
Ere stay behind this Business.  Men. 
Oh truebred.  Sen. 
Your Company to ' th' Capitol, where I know  
Our greatest Friends attend us.  Tit. 
Led you on: Fellow Cominius, we must follow you, right worthy you Priority.  Com. 
Noble Martius.  Sen. 
Hence to your homes, be gone.  Mar. 
Nay let them follow,  
The Volces have much Corn: take these Rats thither,  
To gnaw their Garners. Worshipful Mutineers,  
Your valour puts well forth: Pray follow.  Exeunt. Citizens steal away. Manet Sicin. & Brutus. Sicin. 
Was ever man so proud as is this Martius?  Bru. 
He has no equal.  Sicin. 
When we were chosen Tribunes for the people.  Bru. 
Marked you his lip and eyes.  Sicin. 
Nay, but his taunts.  Bru. 
Being moved, he will not spare to gird the Gods.  Sicin. 
Bemocke the modest Moon.  Bru. 
The present Wars devour him, he is grown  
Too proud to be so valiant.  Sicin. 
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?  Bru. 
Fame, at the which he aims,  
In whom already he's well graced, cannot  
Better be held, nor more attained then by  
A place below the first: for what miscarries  
Shall be the General's fault, though he perform  
To th' utmost of a man, and giddy censure  
Will then cry out of Martius: Oh, if he  
Had borne the business.  Sicin. 
Besides, if things go well,  
Opinion that so sticks on Martius, shall  
Of his demerits rob Cominius.  Bru. 
Come: half all Cominius Honours are to Martius  
Though Martius earned them not: and all his faults  
To Martius shall be Honours, though indeed  
In aught he merit not.  Sicin. 
Let's hence, and hear  
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion  
More than his singularity, he goes  
Upon this present Action.  Bru. 
Let's along.  Exeunt Enter Tullus Auffidius with Senators of Coriolus. 1. Sen. 
So, your opinion is Auffidius,  
That they of Rome are entered in our Counsels,  
And know how we proceed,  Auf. 
Is it not yours?  
What ever have been thought one 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;  
They have pressed 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, Martius' your old Enemy  
(Who is of Rome worse hated then of you)  
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,  
These three lead on this Preparation  
Whether 'tis bend: most likely, 'tis for you:  
Consider of it.  1. Sen. 
Our army's in the Field:  
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready  
To answer us.  Auf. 
Nor did you think it folly,  
To keep your great pretences veiled, till when  
They needs must show themselves, which in the hatching  
It seemed appeared to Rome. By the discovery,  
We shallbe shortened in our aim, which was  
To take in many Towns, ere (almost) Rome  
Should know we were afoot.  2. Sen. 
Noble Auffidius,  
Take your Commission, hie you to your Bands,  
Let us alone to guard Corioles  
If they set down before's: for the remove  
Bring up your Army: but (I think) you'll find  
Th' have not prepared for us.  Auf. 
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 Martius chance to meet,  
'Tis sworn between us, we shall ever strike  
Till one can do no more.  All. 
The Gods assist you.  Auf. 
And keep your Honour's safe.  1. Sen. 
Farewell.  2. Sen. 
Farewell.  All. 
Farewell.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius: They set them down on two low stools and sow. Volum. 
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, then 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 King's 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 th' 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 Manchild, than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man.  Virg. 
But had he died in the Business Madame, how then?  Volume. 
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 Martius, I had rather had eleven die Nobly for their Country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of Action.  Enter a Gentlewoman. Gent. 
Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.  Virg. 
Beseech you give me leave to retire myself.  Volume. 
Indeed you shall not:  
Me thinks, I hear hither your Husband's Drum:  
See him pluck Auffidius down by th' hair:  
(As children from a Bear) the Volces shunning him:  
methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus,  
Come on you Cowards, you were got in fear  
Though you were borne in Rome; his bloody brow  
With his mailed hand, then wiping, forth he goes  
Like to a Harvest man, that tasked to mow  
Or all, or lose his hire.  Virg. 
His bloody Brow? Oh jupiter, no blood.  Volum. 
Away you Fool; it more becomes a man  
Then gilded his Trophy. The breasts of Hecuba  
When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier  
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood  
At Grecian sword. Contenning, tell Valeria  
We are fit to bid her welcome.  Exit Gent. Vir. 
Heaven's bless my Lord from fell Auffidius.  Vol, 
he'll beat Auffidius head below his knee,  
And tread upon his neck.  Enter Valeria with an Usher, and a Gentlewoman. Val. 
My Ladies both good day to you.  Vol. 
Sweet Madam.  Vir. 
I am glad to see your Ladyship.  Val. 
How do you both? You are manifest housekeepers. What are you sowing here? A fine spot in good faith. How does your little Son?  Vir. 
I thank your Ladyship: Well good Madam.  Vol. 
He had rather see the swords, and hear a Drum, then look upon his Schoolmaster.  Val. 
A my word the Father's Son: I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy. A my troth, I looked upon him a Wednesday half an hour together: has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded Butterfly, & when he caught it, he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again: catcht it again: or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth, and tear it. Oh, I warrant how he mammockt it.  Vol. 
One on's Fathers moods.  Val. 
Indeed lafoy, 'tis a Noble child.  Virg. 
A Crack Madam.  Val. 
Come, lay aside your stitchery, I must have you play the idle Huswife with me this afternoon.  Virg. 
No (good Madam)  
I will not out of doors.  Val. 
Not out of doors?  Volum. 
She shall, she shall.  Virg. 
Indeed no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold, till my Lord return from the Wars.  Val. 
Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably:  
Come, you must go visit the good Lady that lies in.  Virg. 
I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers: but I cannot go thither.  Volume. 
Why I pray you.  Vlug. 
'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.  Val. 
You would be another Penelope: yet they say, all the yearn she spun in Ulysses absence, did but fill Athica 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.  Vir. 
No good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not forth.  Val. 
In truth la go with me, and I'll tell you excellent news of your Husband.  Virg. 
Oh good Madam, there can be none yet.  Val. 
Verily I do not jest with you: there came news from him last night.  Vir. 
Indeed Madam.  Val. 
In earnest it's true; I heard a Senator speak it. Thus it is: the Volcies 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 Carioles, they nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief Wars. This is true on mine Honour, and so I pray go with us.  Virg. 
Give me excuse good Madame, I will obey you in every thing hereafter.  Vol. 
Let her alone Lady, as she is now:  
She will but disease our better mirth.  Valeria. 
In troth I think she would:  
Far you well then. Come good sweet Lady.  
Prithee Virgilia turn thy solemness out a door,  
And go along with us.  Virgil. 
No  
At a word Madam; Indeed I must not,  
I wish you much mirth.  Val. 
Well, then farewell.  Exeunt Ladies Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Drum and Colours, with Captains and Soldiers, as before the City Corialus: to them a Messenger. Martius. 
Yonder comes News:  
A Wager they have met.  Lar. 
My horse to yours, no.  Mar. 
'tis done.  Lart. 
Agreed.  Mar. 
Say, has our General met the Enemy?  Mess. 
They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet.  Lart. 
So, the good Horse is mine.  Mart. 
I'll buy him of you.  Lart. 
No, I'll nor sell, nor give him: Lend you him I will  
For half a hundred years: Summon the Town.  Mar. 
How fare off lie these Armies?  Mess. 
Within this mile and half.  Mar. 
Then shall we hear their Alarm, & 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 of Corialus. 
Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walls?  1. Senat. 
No, nor a man that fears you less than he,  
That's lesser than a little:  Drum a fare 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 pined with Rushes,  
They'll open of themselves. Hark you, fare off  Alarm fare off. 
There is Auffidious. List what work he makes  
Amongst your cloven Army.  Mart. 
Oh they are at it.  Lart. 
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders hoa.  Enter the Army of the Volces. Mar. 
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 Volce,  
And he shall feel mine edge.  Alarm, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches Enter Martius Cursing. Mar. 
All the contagion of the South, light on you,  
You Shames of Rome: you Herd of Byles and Plagues  
Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorred  
Farther then 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 too't: Come on,  
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their Wives,  
As they us to our Trenches follows.  Another Alarm, and Martius follows them to gates, and is shut in. 
So, now the gates are open: now prove good Seconds,  
'Tis for the followers Fortune, widens them,  
Not for the flyers: Mark me, and do the like.  Enter the Gati. 1. Sol. 
Foolhardiness, not I  2. Sol. 
Nor I.  1. Sol. 
See they have shut him in.  Alarm continueth All. 
To th' pot I warrant him.  Enter Titus Lartius Tit. 
What is become of Martius?  All. 
Slain (Sir) doubtless.  1. Sol. 
Following the Flyers at the very heels,  
With them he enters: who upon the sudden  
Clapped to their Gates, he is himself alone,  
To answer all the City.  Lar. 
Oh Noble Fellow!  
Who sensibly outdares his senseless Sword,  
And when it bows, standest up: Thou art left Martius,  
A Carbuncle entire: as big as thou art  
Wear not so rich a jewel. Thou was't a Soldier  
Even to Calf's wish, not fierce and terrible  
Only in strokes, but with thy grim looks, and  
The Thunderlike percussion of thy sounds  
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World  
Were Feavorous, and did tremble.  Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy. 1. Sol. 
Look Sir.  Lar. 
O 'tis Martius.  
Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.  They fight, and all enter the City. Enter certain Romans with spoils. 1. Rom. 
This will I carry to Rome.  2. Rom. 
And I this.  3. Rom. 
A Murrain on't, I took this for Silver.  exeunt. Alarm continueth still afar off. Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet. Mar. 
See here these movers, that do prise their hours  
At a cracked Drachma: 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, Auffidious,  
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.  Lar. 
Worthy Sir, thou bleedest,  
Thy exercise hath been too violent,  
For a second course of Fight.  Mar. 
Sir, praise me not:  
My work hath yet not warmed me. Far you well:  
The blood I drop, is rather Physical  
Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight.  Lar. 
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.  Mar. 
Thy Friend no less,  
Then those she placeth highest: So farewell.  Lar. 
Thou worthiest Martius,  
Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place,  
Call thither all the Officers o' th' Town,  
Where they shall know our mind. Away.  Exeunt Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldier's. Com. 
Breath 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 strooke  
By Interims and conveying gusts, we have heard  
The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods,  
Lead their successes, as we wish our own,  
That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountering,  
May give you thankful Sacrifice. Thy News?  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
The Citizens of Corioles have issued,  
And given to Lartius and to Martius' Battle:  
I saw our party to their Trenches driven,  
And then I came away.  Com. 
Though thou speakest truth,  
Me thinks thou speakest not well. How long is't since?  Mes. 
Above an hour, my Lord.  Com. 
'Tis not a mile: briefly we heard their drums.  
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,  
And bring thy News so late?  Mes. 
Spies of the Volces  
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.  Enter Martius. Com. 
Whos's yonder,  
That does appear as he were Flayed? O Gods,  
He has the stamp of Martius, and I have  
Before time seen him thus.  Mar. 
Come I too late?  Com. 
The Shepherd knows not Thunder from a Taber,  
More than I know the sound of Martius Tongue  
From every meaner man.  Martius. 
Come I too late?  Com. 
I, if you come not in the blood of others,  
But mantled in your own.  Mart. 
Oh! let me clip ye  
In Arms as sound, as when I wooed in heart;  
As merry, as when our Nuptial day was done,  
And Tapers burnt to Bedward.  Com. 
Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius?  Mar. 
As with a man busied about Decrees:  
Condemning some to death, and some to exile,  
Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening th' other;  
Holding Corioles in the name of Rome,  
Even like a fawning Greyhound in the Leash,  
To let him slip at will.  Com. 
Where is that Slave  
Which told me they had beat you to your Trenches?  
Where is he? Call him hither.  Mar. 
Let him alone,  
He did inform the truth: but for our Gentlemen,  
The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them)  
The Mouse ne'er shunned the Cat, as they did budge  
From Rascals worse than they.  Com. 
But how prevailed you?  Mar. 
Will the time serve to tell, I do not think:  
Where is the enemy? Are you Lords o' th' Field?  
If not, why cease you till you are so?  Com. 
Martius, we have at disadvantage fought,  
And did retire to win our purpose.  Mar. 
How lies their Battle? Know you on which side  
They have placed their men of trust?  Com. 
As I guess Martius,  
Their Bands i' th' Vanguard are the Ancients  
Of their best trust: O'er them Auffidious,  
Their very heart of Hope.  Mar. 
I do beseech you,  
By all the Battles wherein we have fought,  
By th' Blood we have shed together,  
By th' Vows we have made  
To endure Friends, that you directly set me  
Against Assiduous, and his Antiats,  
And that you not delay the present (but  
Filling the air with Swords advanced) and Darts,  
We prove this very hour.  Com. 
Though I could wish,  
You were conducted to a gentle Bath,  
And Balms applied to you, yet dare I never  
Deny your ask, take your choice of those  
That best can aid your action.  Mar. 
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 smeared, if any fear  
Lessen his person, than an ill report:  
If any think, brave death outweighs bad life,  
And that his Countries dearer than himself,  
Let him alone: Or so many so minded,  
Wave thus to express his disposition,  
And follow Martius.  They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in their Arms, and cast up their Caps. 
Oh me alone, make you a sword of me:  
If these shows be not outward, which of you  
But is four Volces? None of you, but is  
Able to bear against the great Auffidious  
A Shield, as hard as his. A certain number  
(Though thankes to all) must I select from all:  
The rest shall bear the business in some other fight  
(As cause will be obeyed:) please you to March,  
And four shall quickly draw out my Command,  
Which men are best inclined.  Com. 
March on my Fellows:  
Make good this ostentation, and you shall  
Divide in all, with us.  Exeunt Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon Carioles, going with Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius, and Caius Martius', Enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout. Lar. 
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.  Lieu. 
Fear not our care Sir.  Lart. 
Hence; and shut your gates upon's:  
Our Guider come, to th' Roman Gampe conduct us.  Exit Alarm, as in Battle. Enter Martius and Auffidius at several doors. Mar. 
I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee  
Worse than a Promise-breaker.  Auffid. 
We hate alike:  
Not Africa owns a Serpent I abhor  
More than thy Fame and Envy: Fix thy foot.  Mar. 
Let the first Budger dye the others Slave,  
And the God's doom him after.  Auf. 
If I fly Martius, hollow me like a Hare.  Mar. 
Within these three hours Tullus  
Alone I fought in your Corioles walls,  
And made what work I pleased: 'Tis not my blood,  
Wherein thou seest me masked, for thy Revenge  
Wrench up thy power to th' highest.  Auf. 
Were't thou the Hector,  
That was the whip of your bragged Progeny,  
Thou shouldst not scape me here.  here they fight, and certain Volces come in the aid of Auffi. Martius fights till they be driven in breathless. 
Officious and not valiant, you have shamed me  
In your condemned Seconds.  Flourish. Alarm. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Door Cominius, with the Romans: At another Door Martius, with his Arms in a Scarf. Com. 
If I should tell thee o'er this thy days Work,  
thou't not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it,  
Where Senators shall mingle tears with smiles,  
Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug,  
I' th' 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 cam'st thou to a Morsel of this Feast,  
Having fully dined before.  Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit. Titus Lartius. 
Oh General:  
Here is the Steed, we the Caparison:  
Hadst thou beheld—  Martius. 
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 ouerta'ne mine Act.  Com. 
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 vouched,  
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.  Martius. 
I have some Wounds upon me, and they smart  
To hear themselves remembered.  Com. 
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.  Martius. 
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▪ Martius, Martius', cast up their Caps and Lances: Cominius and Lartius stand bare. Mar. 
May these same Instruments, which you profane,  
Never sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall  
I' th' field prove flatterers, let Courts and Cities be  
Made all of false-faced soothing:  
When Steel grows soft, as the Phrasites Silk,  
Let him be made an Overture for th' Wars:  
No more I say, for that I have not washed  
My Nose that bled, or foiled some debile Wretch,  
Which without note, here's many else have done,  
You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolical,  
As if I loved my little should be dieted  
In praises, sawc'st with Lies.  Com. 
Too modest are you:  
More cruel to your good report, then 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 Martius  
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 Corioles, call him,  
With all th' applause and Clamour of the Host,  Marcus Caius Coriolanus. 
Bear th' addition Nobly ever?  Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drum's. Omnes. Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Martius. 
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 under-crest your good Addition,  
To th' fairness of my power.  Com. 
So, to our Tent:  
Where ere we do repose us, we will write  
To Rome of our success: you Titus Lartius  
Must to Corioles back, send us to Rome  
The best, with whom we may articulate,  
For their own good, and ours.  Lartius. 
I shall, my Lord.  Martius. 
The Gods begin to mock me:  
I that now refused most Princely gifts,  
Am bound to beg of my Lord General.  Com. 
Take't, 'tis yours: what is't?  Martius. 
I sometime lay here in Corioles,  
At a poor man's house: he used me kindly,  
He cried to me: I saw him Prisoner:  
But then Auffidius was within my view,  
And Wrath o'erwhelmed my pity: I request you  
To give my poor Host freedom.  Com. 
Oh well begged:  
Were he the Butcher of my Son, he should  
Be free, as is the Wind: deliver him, Titus.  Lartius. 
Martius, his Name.  Martius. 
By jupiter forgot:  
I am weary, yea my memory is tired:  
Have we no Wine here?  Com. 
Go we to our Tent:  
The blood upon your Visage dries, 'tis time  
It should be looked too: come.  Exeunt. A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius blondi●, with two or three Soldiers. Auffi. 
The Town is ta'en.  Sould. 
'Twill be delivered back on good Condition.  Auffid. 
Condition?  
I would I were a Roman, for I cannot.  
Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition?  
What good Condition can a Treaty find  
I' th' part that is at mercy? five times, Martius,  
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 th' Elements,  
If ere 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 potche at him some way,  
Or Wrath, or Craft may get him.  Sol. 
He's the devil.  Auf. 
Bolder, though not so subtle: my valour's poisoned,  
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:  
Embarkments all of Fury, shall lift up  
Their rotten Privilege, and Custom 'gainst  
My hate to Martius. 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 th' City,  
Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must  
Be Hostages for Rome.  Soul. 
Will not you go?  Auf. 
I am attended at the Cyprus grove▪ I pray you  
('Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither  
How the world goes: that to the pace of it  
I may spur on my journey.  Soul. 
I shall sir.    

Actus Secundus.  Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius & Brutus. Men. 
The Agurer tells me, we shall have News to night.  Bru. 
Good or bad?  Men. 
Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Martius.  Sicin. 
Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends.  Men. 
Pray you, who does the Wolf love?  Sicin. 
The Lamb.  Men. 
I, to devour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the Noble Martius.  Bru. 
He's a Lamb indeed, that baes like a Bear.  Men. 
he's a Bear indeed, that life's like a Lamb.  
You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall ask you.  Both. 
Well sir.  Men. 
In what enormity is Martius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?  Bru. 
He's poor in no one fault, but stored withal.  Sicin. 
Especially in Pride.  Bru. 
And topping all others in boasting.  Men. 
This is strange now: Do you two know, how you are censured here in the City, I mean of us o' th' right hand File, do you?  Both. 
Why? ho ware we censured?  Men. 
Because you talk of Pride now, will you not be angry.  Both. 
Well, well sir, well.  Men. 
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 reines, and be angry at your pleasures (at the least) if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so: you blame Martius for being proud.  Brut. 
We do it not alone, sir.  Men. 
I know you can do very little alone, for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are to Infantlike, for doing much alone. You talk of Pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your necks, and make but an Interiour survey of your good selves. Oh that you could.  Both. 
What then sir?  Men. 
Why then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy Magistrates (alias Fools) as any in Rome.  Sicin. 
Menenius, you are known well enough too.  Men. 
I am known to be a humorous Patrician, and one that love's 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, to trivial motion: One, that converses more with the Buttock of the night, then with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such Weals men as you are (I cannot call you Licurgusses,) if the drink you give me, touch my palate adversly, I make a crooked face at it, I can say, your Worship's have delivered the matter well, when I find the Ass in compound, with the Mayor 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 have good faces, if you see this in the Map of my Microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your besom Conspectuities glean out of this Character, if I be known well enough too.  Bru. 
Come sir come, we know you well enough.  Menen. 
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 Orendge wife, and a Forsetseller, and then reiourne the Controversy of threepences 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.  Bru. 
Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter gyber for the Table, than a necessary Bencher in the Capitol.  Men. 
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 Butchers Cushion, or to be entombed in an Asses Packesaddle; yet you must be saying, Martius is proud: who in a cheap estimation, is worth all your 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.  Bru. and Scic. Aside. Enter Volumina, 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?  Volume. 
Honourable Menenius, my Boy Martius approaches: for the love of juno let's go.  Menen. 
Ha'? Martius coming home?  Volume. 
I, worthy Menenius▪ and with most prosperous approbation.  Menen. 
Take my Cap jupiter, and I thank thee: ho, Martius coming home?  2. Ladies. 
Nay, 'tis true.  Volume. 
Look, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his Wife another, and (I think) there's one at home for you.  Menen. 
I will make my very house reel to night:  
A Letter for me?  Virgil. 
Yes certain, there's a Letter for you, I saw't.  Menen. 
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 Empiric qutique; and to this Preseruative, of no better report than a Horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded?  Virgil. 
Oh no, no, no.  Volume. 
Oh, he is wounded, I thank the Gods for't.  Menen. 
So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a Victory in his Pocket? the wounds become him.  Volume. 
On's Brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home with the Oaken Garland.  Menen. 
Has he disciplined Auffidius sound?  Volume. 
Titus Lartius writeth, they fought together, but Auffidius got off.  Menen. 
And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: and he had stayed by him, I would not have been so fiddioused, for all the Chests in Carioles, and the Gold that's in them. Is the Senate possessed of this?  Volum. 
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.  Valer. 
In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.  Menen. 
Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.  Virgil. 
The Gods grant them true.  Volume. 
True? pow waw.  Mene. 
True? I'll be sworn they are true: where is he wounded, God save your good Worships? Martius is coming home: he has more cause to be proud: where is he wounded?  Volume. 
Ith' Shoulder, and i'th' 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'th' Body.  Mene. 
One i'th' Neck, and two i'th' Thigh, there's nine that I know.  Volume. 
He had, before this last Expedition, twenty five Wounds upon him.  Mene. 
Now it's twenty seven; every gash was an Enemy's Grave. Hark, the Trumpets.  A shout, and flourish. Volum. 
These are the Ushers of Martius:  
Before him, he carries Noise;  
And behind him, he leaves Tears:  
Death, that dark Spirit, in's neruie Arm doth lie,  
Which being advanced, declines, and then men dye.  A Sennet. Trumpet's sound. Enter Cominius the General, and Titus Latius: between them Coriolanus, crowned with an Oaken Garland, with Captains and Soldiers, and a Herald. Herald. 
Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight  
Within Corioles Gates: where he hath won,  
With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius:  
These in honour follows Martius Caius Coriolanus.  
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.  Sound. Flourish. All. 
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.  Coriol. 
No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray now no more.  Com. 
Look, Sir, your Mother.  Coriol. 
Oh! you have, I know, petitioned all the Gods for my prosperity.  Kneels. Volum. 
Nay, my good Soldier, up:  
My gentle Martius, worthy Caius,  
And by deed-atchieving Honour newly named,  
What is it (Coriolanus) must I call thee?  
But oh, thy Wife.  Corio. 
My gracious silence, hail:  
Wouldst thou have laughed, had I come Coffined home,  
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah my dear,  
Such eyes the Widows in Carioles were,  
And Mothers that lack Sons.  Mene. 
Now the Gods Crown thee.  Com. 
And live you yet? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon.  Volume. 
I know not where to turn.  
Oh welcome home: and welcome General,  
And ye are welcome all.  Mene. 
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 Crabtrees here at home,  
That will not be grafted to your Rallish.  
Yet welcome Warriors:  
We call a Nettle, but a Nettle;  
And the faults of fools, but folly.  Com. 
Ever right.  Cor. 
Menenius, ever, ever.  Herald. 
Give way there, and go on.  Cor. 
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.  Volume. 
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.  Cor. 
Know, good Mother,  
I had rather be their servant in my way,  
Then sway with them in theirs.  Com. 
On, to the Capital.  Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in State, as before. Enter Brutus and Scicinius. Bru. 
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 reechie neck,  
Clambering the Walls to eye him:  
Stalls, Bulks, Windows, are smothered up,  
Leads filled, and Ridges horsed  
With variable Complexions; all agreeing  
In earnestness to see him: seld-showne Flamens  
Do press among the popular Throngs, and puff  
To win a vulgar station: our veiled Dames  
Commit the War of White and Damask  
In their nicely gawded Cheeks, toth' wanton spoil  
Of Phoebus' burning Kisses: such a poother,  
As if that whatsoever God, who leads him,  
Were slyly crept into his humane powers,  
And gave him graceful posture.  Scicin. 
On the sudden, I warrant him Consul.  Brutus. 
Then our Office may, during his power, go sleep.  Scicin. 
He cannot temp'rately transport his Honours,  
From where he should begin, and end, but will  
Lose those he hath won.  Brutus. 
In that there's comfort.  Scici. 
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' th' Market place, nor on him put  
The Naples Vesture of Humility,  
Nor showing (as the manner is) his Wounds  
Toth' People, beg their stinking Breathes.  Scicin. 
'Tis right.  Brutus. 
It was his word:  
Oh he would miss it, rather than carry it,  
But by the suit of the Gentry to him,  
And the desire of the Nobles.  Scicin. 
I wish no better, then have him hold that purpose, and to put it in execution.  Brutus. 
'Tis most like he will.  Scicin. 
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 humane Action, and Capacity,  
Of no more Soul, nor fitness for the World,  
Then Camels in their War, who have their Provand  
Only for bearing Burdens, and sore blows  
For sinking under them.  Scicin. 
This (as you say) suggested,  
At some time, when his soaring Insolence  
Shall teach 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?  Mess. 
You are sent for to the Capitol:  
'Tis thought, that Martius shall be Consul:  
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him,  
And the blind to hear him speak: Matrons flung Gloves,  
Ladies and Maids their Scarves, and Handkerchiefs,  
Upon him as he passed: 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 th' time,  
But Hearts for the event.  Scicin. 
Have with you.  Exeunt. Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions, as it were, in the Capitol. 1. Off. 
Come, come, they are almost here: how many stand for Consulships?  2. Off. 
Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it.  1. Off. 
That's a brave fellow: but he's vengeance proud, and love's not the common people.  2. Off. 
I'faith, there hath 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.  1. Off. 
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 they 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.  2. Off. 
He hath deserved worthily of his Country, and his assent is not by such easy degrees as those, who having been supple and courteous to the People, Bonnetted, without any further deed, to have them at all 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.  1. Off. 
No more of him, he's a worthy man: make way, they are coming.  A Sennet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the People, Lictor's before them: Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the Consul: Scicinius and Brutus take their places by themselves: Coriolanus stands. Menen. 
Having determined of the Volces,  
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, performed  
By Martius Caius Coriolanus: whom  
We met here, both to thank, and to remember,  
With Honours like himself.  1. Sen. 
Speak, good Cominius:  
Leave nothing out for length, and make us think  
Rather our states defective for requital,  
Then we to stretch it out. Masters o' th' People,  
We do request your kindest ears: and after  
Your loving motion toward the common Body,  
To yield what passes here.  Scicin. 
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 blessed to do, if he remember a kinder value of the People, than he hath hereto prized them at.  Menen. 
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.  Menen. 
He love's your People, but tie him not to be their Bed-fellow: Worthy Cominius speak.  Coriolanus riseth, and offers to go away. 
Nay, keep your place.  Senat. 
Sat Coriolanus: never shame to hear  
What you have Nobly done.  Coriol. 
Your Honour's pardon:  
I had rather have my Wounds to heal again,  
Then hear say how I got them.  Brutus. 
Sir, I hope my words dis-benched you not?  Coriol. 
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—  Menen. 
Pray now sit down.  Corio. 
I had rather have one scratch my Head i' th' Sun,  
When the Alarm were struck, then idly sit  
To hear my Nothings monstered.  Exit Coriolanus Menen. 
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,  
Then on ones Ears to hear it. Proceed Cominius.  Com. 
I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus  
Should not be uttered 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 counter-poysed. 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 Shin he driven  
The brizled Lips before him: he bestrid  
An o'erpress Roman, and i' th' 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' th' field, and for his meed  
Was Brow-bound with the Oak. His Pupil age  
Man-entred thus, he waxed like a Sea,  
And in the brunt of seventeen Battles since,  
He lurcht all Swords of the Garland: for this last,  
Before, and in Corioles, let me say  
I cannot speak him home: he stopped the flyers,  
And by his rare example made the Coward  
Turn terror into sport: as Weeds before  
A Vessel under sail, so men obeyed,  
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 entered  
The mortal Gate of th' City, which he painted  
With shunlesse destiny: aydelesse came off,  
And with a sudden re-inforcement struck  
Carioles like a Planet: now all's his,  
When by and by the din of War 'gan pierce  
His ready sense: then strait his doubled spirit  
Requickned 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 called  
Both Field and City ours, he never stood  
To ease his Breast with panting.  Menen. 
Worthy man.  Senat. 
He cannot but with measure fit the Honours which we device him.  Com. 
Our spoils he kicked at,  
And looked 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.  Menen. 
he's right Noble, let him be called for.  Senat. 
Call Coriolanus.  Off. 
He doth appear.  Enter Coriolanus. Menen. 
The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased to make thee Consul.  Corio. 
I do own them still my Life, and Services.  Menen. 
It than remains, that you do speak to the People.  Corio. 
I do beseech you,  
Let me o're-leape 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.  Scicin. 
Sir, the People must have their Voices,  
Neither will they bate one jot of Ceremony.  Menen. 
Put them not too't:  
Pray you go fit you to the Custom,  
And take to you, as your Predecessors have,  
Your Honour with your form.  Corio. 
It is a part that I shall blush in acting,  
And might well be taken from the People.  Brutus. 
Mark you that.  Corio. 
To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus  
Show them th' unaking Scars, which I should hide,  
As if I had received them for the hire  
Of their breath only.  Menen. 
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 Honor.  Senat. 
To Coriolanus come all joy and Honor.  Flourish Cornets. Then Exeunt. Manet Sicinius and Brutus. Bru. 
You see how he intends to use the people.  Scicin. 
May they perceiue's intent: he will require them  
As if he did contemn what he requested,  
Should be in them to give.  Bru. 
Come, we'll inform them  
Of our proceed here on th' Market place,  
I know they do attend us.  Enter seven or eight Citizens. 1. Cit 
Once if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.  2. Cit 
We may Sir if we will.  3. Cit 
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.  1. Cit 
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 manyheaded Multitude.  3. Cit 
We have been called so of many, not that our heads are some brown, some black, some Abram, some bald; but that our wits are so diversely Coulord; and truly I think, if all our wits were to issue out of one Scull, they would fly East, West, North, South, and their consent of one direct way, should be at once to all the points o' th' Compass.  2. Cit 
Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly.  3. Cit 
Nay your wit will not so soon out as another man's will, 'tis strongly wadged up in a blockhead: but if it were at liberty, 'twould sure Southward.  2 Cit 
Why that way?  3 Cit 
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.  2 Cit 
You are never without your tricks, you may, you may.  3 Cit 
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 behaviour: we are not to stay altogether, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twoes, & by three. 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'll direct you how you shall go by him.  All. 
Content, content.  Men. 
Oh Sir, you are not right: have you not known  
The worthiest men have doneed?  Corio. 
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 roared, and ran  
From th' noise of our own Drums.  Menen. 
Oh me the Gods, you must not speak of that,  
You must desire them to think upon you.  Coriol. 
Think upon me? Hang 'em,  
I would they would forget me, like the Virtues  
Which our Divines lose by 'em.  Men. 
You'll mar all.  
I'll leave you: Pray you speak to 'em, I pray you  
In wholesome manner.  Exit Enter three of the Citizens. Corio. 
Bid them wash their Faces,  
And keep their teeth clean: So, here comes a brace,  
You know the cause (Sir) of my standing here.  3 Cit 
We do Sir, tell us what hath brought you too't.  Corio. 
Mine own desert.  2 Cit 
Your own desert.  Corio. 
I, but mine own desire.  3 Cit 
How not your own desire?  Corio. 
No Sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.  3 Cit 
You must think if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.  Corio. 
Well then I pray, your price o' th' Consulship.  1 Cit 
The price is, to ask it kindly.  Corio. 
Kindly sir, I pray let me have't: I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private: your good voice Sir, what say you?  2 Cit 
You shall have't worthy Sir.  Corio. 
A match Sir, there's in all two worthy voices begged: I have your Alms, Adieu.  3 Cit 
But this is something odd.  2 Cit 
And 'twere to give again: but 'tis no matter.  Exeunt. Enter two other Citizens'. Coriol. 
Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices, that I may be Consul, I have here the Customary Gown.  1. 
You have deserved Nobly of your Country, and you have not deserved Nobly.  Coriol. 
Your Aenigma.  1. 
You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have been a Rod to her Friends, you have not indeed loved the Common people.  Coriol. 
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▪ & 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 desire's: Therefore beseech you, I may be Consul.  2. 
We hope to find you our friend: and therefore give you our voices hearty.  1. 
You have received many wounds for your Country.  Coriol. 
I will not Seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no farther.  Both. 
The Gods give you joy Sir hearty.  Coriol. 
Most sweet Voices:  
Better it is to dye, better to starve,  
Then crave the higher, which first we do deserve.  
Why in this Wolvish tongue should I stand here,  
To beg of Hob and Dick, that does appear  
Their needless Vouches: Custom calls me too't.  
What Custom will in all things, should we do't?  
The Dust on antique Time would lie unswept,  
And mountainous Error be too highly heaped,  
For Truth to o're-peere. 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 suffered, the other will I do.  Enter three Citizens more. 
Here come more Voices.  
Your Voices? for your Voices I have fought,  
Watched 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.  1. Cit 
He has done Nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's Voice.  2. Cit 
Therefore let him be Consul: the Gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the People.  All. 
Amen, Amen. God save thee, Noble Consul.  Corio. 
Worthy Voices.  Enter Menenius, with Brutus' and Scicinius. Mene. 
You have stood your Limitation:  
And the Tribunes endue you with the People's Voice,  
Remains, that in th' Official Marks invested,  
You anon do meet the Senate.  Corio. 
Is this done?  Scicin. 
The Custom of Request you have discharged:  
The People do admit you and are summoned  
To meet anon, upon your approbation.  Corio. 
Where? at the Senate-house?  Scicin. 
There, Coriolanus.  Corio. 
May I change these Garments?  Scicin. 
You may, Sir.  Cori. 
That I'll strait do: and knowing myself again,  
Repair toth' Senate-house.  Mene. 
I'll keep you company. Will you along?  Brut. 
We stay here for the People.  Scicin. 
Far you well.  Exeunt Coriol. and Mene. 
He has it now: and by his Looks, me thinks,  
'Tis warm at's heart.  Brut. 
With a proud heart he wore his humble Weeds:  
Will you dismiss the People?  Enter the Plebeians. Scici. 
How now, my Masters, have you chose this man?  1. Cit 
He has our Voices, Sir.  Brut. 
We pray the Gods, he may deserve your loves.  2. Cit 
Amen, Sir: to my poor unworthy notice,  
He mocked us, when he begged our Voices.  3. Cit 
Certainly, he flouted us downright.  1. Cit 
No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock us.  2. Cit 
Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says  
He used us scornfully: he should have showed us  
His Marks of Merit, Wounds received for's Country.  Scicin. 
Why so he did I am sure.  All. 
No, no: no man saw 'em.  3. Cit 
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?  Scicin. 
Why either were you ignorant to see't?  
Or seeing it, of such Childish friendliness,  
To yield your Voices?  Brut. 
Can you not have told him,  
As you were lessoned: When he had no Power,  
But was a petty servant to the State,  
He was your Enemy, ever sp●ke against  
Your Liberties, and the Charters that you bear  
I' th' Body of the Weal: and now arriving  
A place of Potency, and sway o' th' State,  
If he should still malignantly remain  
Fast Foe toth' Plebeij, 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.  Scicin. 
Thus to have said,  
As you were fore-aduised, had touched his Spirit,  
And tried his Inclinations from him plucked  
Either his gracious Promise, which you might  
As cause had called you up, have held him to;  
Or else it would have galled his surly nature,  
Which easily endures not Article,  
Tying him to aught, so putting him to Rage,  
You should have ta'en th' advantage of his Choler,  
And passed him unelected.  Brut. 
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 judgement?  Scicin. 
Have you, ere now denied the as●er:  
And now again, of him that did not ask, but mock,  
Bestow your sued for Tongues?  3. Cit 
he's not confirmed, we may deny him yet.  2. Cit 
And will deny him:  
I'll have five hundred Voices of that sound.  1. Cit 
I twice five hundred & their friends, to piece 'em.  Brut. 
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.  Scici. 
Let them assemble: and on a safer judgement,  
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 scorned you: but your Loves,  
Thinking upon his Services, took from you  
Th' apprehension of his present portance,  
Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion  
After the inveterate Hate he bears you.  Brut. 
Lay a fault on us, your Tribunes,  
That we laboured (no impediment between)  
But that you must cast your Election on him.  Scici. 
Say you chose him, more after our commandment,  
Then as guided by your own true affections, and that  
Your Minds pre-occupyed with what you rather must do,  
Than what you should, made you against the grain  
To Voice him Consul. Lay the fault on us.  Brut. 
I, 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' th' Martians: from whence came  
That Ancus Martius, Numaes' Daughter's Son:  
Who after great Hostilius here was King,  
Of the same House Publius and Quintus were,  
That our best Water, brought by Conduits hither,  
And Nobly named, so twice being Censor,  
Was his great Ancestor.  Scicin. 
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.  Brut. 
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 toth' Capitol.  All. 
We will so: almost all repent in their election.  Exeunt Plebeians. Brut. 
Let them go on:  
This Mutiny were better put in hazard,  
Then 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.  Scicin. 
Toth' Capitol, come:  
We will be there before the stream o' th' People:  
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,  
Which we have goaded on-ward.  Exeunt.  

Actus Tertius.  Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius, Titus Latius, and other Senators. Corio. 
Tullus Auffidius then had made new head.  Latius. 
He had, my Lord, and that it was which caused  
Our swifter Composition.  Corio. 
So then the Volces stand but as at first,  
Ready when time shall prompt them, to make road  
upon's again.  Com. 
They are worn (Lord Consul) so,  
That we shall hardly in our ages see  
Their Banners wave again.  Corio. 
Saw you Auffidius?  Latius. 
On safeguard he came to me, and did curse  
Against the Volces, for they had so vildly  
Yielded the Town: he is retired to Antium.  Corio. 
Spoke he of me?  Latius. 
He did, my Lord.  Corio. 
How? what?  Latius. 
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 called your Vanquisher.  Corio. 
At Antium life's he?  Latius. 
At Antium.  Corio. 
I wish I had a cause to seek him there,  
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.  Enter Scicinius and Brutus. 
Behold, these are the Tribunes of the People,  
The Tongues o' th' Common Mouth. I do despise them:  
For they do prank them in Authority,  
Against all Noble sufferance.  Scicin. 
Pass no further.  Cor. 
Ha? what is that?  Brut. 
It will be dangerous to go on— No further.  Corio. 
What makes this change?  Mene. 
The matter?  Com. 
Hath he not passed the Noble, and the Common?  Brut. 
Cominius, no.  Corio. 
Have I had children's Voices?  Senat. 
Tribunes give way, he shall toth' Market place.  Brut. 
The People are incensed against him.  Scicin. 
Stop, or all will fall in broil.  Corio. 
Are these your Herd?  
Must these have Voices, that can yield them now,  
And strait disclaim their tongues? what are your Offices?  
You being their Mouths, why rule you not their Teeth?  
Have you not set them on?  Mene. 
Be calm, be calm.  Corio. 
It is a purposed thing, and grows by Plot,  
To curb the will of the Nobility:  
Suffered, and live with such as cannot rule,  
Nor ever will be ruled.  Brut. 
Call't not a Plot:  
The People cry you mocked them: and of late,  
When Corn was given them gratis, you repined,  
Scandaled the Suppliants: for the People, called them  
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to Nobleness.  Corio. 
Why this was known before.  Brut. 
Not to them all.  Corio. 
Have you informed them sithence?  Brut. 
How? I inform them?  Com. 
You are like to do such business.  Brut. 
Not unlike each way to better yours.  Corio. 
Why then should I be Consul? by yond Clouds  
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me  
Your fellow Tribune.  Scicin. 
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.  Mene. 
Let's be calm.  Com. 
The People are abused: set on, this paltering  
Becomes not Rome: nor has Coriolanus  
Deserved this so dishonoured Rub, laid falsely  
I' th' plain Way of his Merit.  Corio. 
Tell me of Corn: this was my speech,  
And I will speak't again.  Mene. 
Not now, not now.  Senat. 
Not in this heat, Sir, now.  Corio. 
Now as I live, I will.  
My Nobler friends, I crave their pardons:  
For the mutable ranke-sented Meynie,  
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 ploughed for, sowed, & scattered,  
By mingling them with us, the honoured Number,  
Who lack not Virtue, no, nor Power, but that  
Which they have given to Beggars.  Mene. 
Well, no more.  Senat. 
No more words, we beseech you.  Corio. 
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 Meazels  
Which we disdain should Tetter us, yet sought  
The very way to catch them.  Bru. 
You speak o' th' people, as if you were a God,  
To punish; Not a man, of their Infirmity.  Sicin. 
'Twere well we let the people know't.  Mene. 
What, what? His Choler?  Cor. 
Choler? Were I as patiented as the midnight sleep,  
By jove, 'twould be my mind.  Sicin. 
It is a mind that shall remain a poison  
Where it is: not poison any further.  Corio. 
Shall remain?  
Hear you this Triton of the Minnoves? Mark you  
His absolute Shall?  Com. 
'Twas from the Cannon.  Cor. 
Shall? O God! but most unwise Patricians: why  
You grave, but wreakless Senator's, have you thus  
Given Hydra here to choose an Officer,  
That with his peremptory Shall, being but  
The horn, and noise o' th' Monsters, wants not spirit  
To say, he'll turn your Current in a ditch,  
And make your Channel his? If he have power,  
Then vale your Ignorance: If none, awake  
Your dangerous Lenity: If you are Learned,  
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 frowned in Greece. By jove himself,  
It makes the Consul's 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 th' other.  Com. 
Well, on to ' th' Market place.  Corio. 
Who ever gave that Counsel, to give forth  
The Corn o' th' Storehouse gratis, as 'twas used  
Sometime in Greece.  Mene. 
Well, well, no more of that.  Cor. 
Though there the people had more absolute power I say they nourished disobedience: fed, the ruin of the State.  Bru. 
Why shall the people give  
One that speaks thus, their voice?  Corio. 
I'll give my Reasons,  
More worthier than their Voices. They know the Corn  
Was not our recompense, resting well assured  
They ne'er did service for't; being pressed to ' th' War,  
Even when the Navel of the State was touched,  
They would not thread the Gates: This kind of Service  
Did not deserve Corn gratis. Being i' th' War,  
There Mutinies and Revolts, wherein they showed  
Most Valour spoke not for them. Th' Accusation  
Which they have often made against the Senate,  
All cause unborn, could never be the Native  
Of our so frank Donation. Well, what then?  
How shall this Bosome-multiplied, digest  
The Senate's Courtesy? Let deeds express  
What's like to be their words, We did request it,  
We are the greater pole, 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 open the Locks o' th' Senate, and bring in  
The Crows to peck the Eagles.  Mene. 
Come enough.  Bru. 
Enough, with over measure.  Corio. 
No, take more.  
What may be sworn by, both Divine and Humane,  
Seal what I end withal. This double worship,  
Whereon 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 barred, it follows,  
Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore beseech you,  
You that will be less fearful, then 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 ●icke  
The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour  
Mangles true judgement, and bereaves the State  
Of that Integrity which should become't:  
Not having the power to do the good it would  
For th' ill which doth controlled.  Bru. 
Has said enough.  Sicin. 
ha's spoken like a Traitor, and shall answer  
As Traitors do.  Corio. 
Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee:  
What should the people do with these bald Tribunes?  
On whom depending, their obedience fails  
To ' th' greater Bench, in a Rebellion:  
When what's not mee●, 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' th' dust.  Bru. 
Manifest Treason.  Sicin. 
This a Consul? No.  Enter a Aedile. Bru. 
The Aediles ho: Let him be apprehended:  Sicin. 
Go call the people, in whose name myself  
Attach thee as a Traitorous Innovator:  
A Foe to ' th' public Weal. Obey I charge thee,  
And follow to thine answer.  Corio. 
Hence old Goat.  All. 
we'll Surety him.  Com. 
Aged sir, hands-off.  Corio. 
Hence rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones  
Out of thy Garments.  Sicin, 
Help ye Citizens.  Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Aediles. Mene. 
On both sides more respect.  Sicin. 
here's he, that would take from you all your power.  Bru. 
Seize him Aediles.  All. 
down with him, down with him.  2 Sen. 
Weapons, weapons, weapons:  They all bustle about Coriolanus. 
Tribunes, Patricians, Citizens: what ho:  
Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, Citizens'.  All. 
Peace, peace, peace, stay, hold, peace.  Mene. 
What is about to be? I am out of Breath,  
Confusions near, I cannot speak. You, Tribunes  
To ' th' people: Coriolanus, patience: Speak good Sicinius.  Scici. 
Hear me, People peace.  All. 
Let's here our Tribune: peace, speak, speak, speak.  Scici. 
You are at point to lose your Liberties:  
Martius would have all from you; Martius',  
Whom late you have named for Consul.  Mene. 
Fie, fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to quench.  Sena. 
To unbuild the City, and to lay all flat.  Scici. 
What is the City, but the People?  All. 
True, the People are the City.  Brut. 
By the consent of all, we were established the People's Magistrates.  All. 
You so remain.  Mene. 
And so are like to do.  Com. 
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.  Scici. 
This deserves Death.  Brut. 
Or let us stand to our Authority,  
Or let us lose it: we do here pronounce,  
Upon the part o' th' People, in whose power  
We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy  
Of present Death.  Scici. 
Therefore lay hold of him:  
Bear him toth' Rock Tarpeian, and from thence  
Into destruction cast him.  Brut. 
Aediles seize him.  All Ple. 
Yield Martius, yield.  Mene. 
Hear me one word, ' beseech you Tribunes, hear me but a word.  Aediles. 
Peace, peace.  Mene. 
Be that you seem, truly your Country's friend,  
And temperately proceed to what you would  
Thus violently redress.  Brut. 
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.  Corio. draws his Sword. Corio. 
No, I'll die here:  
There's some among you have beheld me fight,  
Come try upon yourselves, what you have seen me.  Mene. 
down with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw a while.  Brut. 
Lay hands upon him.  Mene. 
Help Martius, help: you that be noble, help him young and old.  All. 
down with him, down with him.  Exeunt. In this Mutiny, the Tribunes, the Aediles, and the People are beat in. Mene. 
Go, get you to our House: be gone, away.  
All will be naught else.  2. Sena. 
Get you gone.  Com. 
Stand fast, we have as many friends as enemies.  Mene. 
Shall it be put to that?  Sena. 
The Gods forbidden:  
I prithee noble friend, home to thy House,  
Leave us to cure this Cause.  Mene. 
For 'tis a Sore upon us,  
You cannot Tent yourself: be gone, ' beseech you.  Corio. 
Come Sir, along with us.  Mene. 
I would they were Barbarians, as they are,  
Though in Rome littered not Romans, as they are not,  
Though calued i' th' Porch o' th' Capitol:  
Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue,  
One time will owe another.  Corio. 
On fair ground, I could beat forty of them.  Mene. 
I could myself take up a Brace o' th' best of them, yea, the two Tribunes.  Com. 
But now 'tis odds beyond Arithmetic,  
And Manhood is called 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.  Mene. 
Pray you be gone:  
I'll try whether my old Wit be in request  
With those that have but little: this must be patched  
With Cloth of any Colour.  Com. 
Nay, come away.  Exeunt Coriolanus and Cominius. Patri. 
This man has marred his fortune.  Mene. 
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.  Patri. 
I would they were a bed.  Mene. 
I would they were in Tiber.  
What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair?  Enter Brutus' and Sicinius with the rabble again. Sicin. 
Where is this Viper,  
That would depopulate the city, & be every man himself  Mene. 
You worthy Tribunes.  Sicin. 
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 naught.  1 Cit 
He shall well know the Noble Tribunes are  
The people's mouths, and we their hands.  All. 
He shall sure out.  Mene. 
Sir, sir.  Sicin. 
Peace.  Me. 
Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt  
With modest warrant.  Sicin. 
Sir, how comest that you have holp  
To make this rescue?  Mene. 
Hear me speak? As I do know  
The Consul's worthiness, so can I name his Faults.  Sicin. 
Consul? what Consul?  Mene. 
The Consul Coriolanus.  Bru. 
He Consul.  All. 
No, no, no, no, no.  Mene. 
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,  
Then so much loss of time.  Sic. 
Speak briefly then,  
For we are peremptory to dispatch  
This Viporous Traitor: to eiect him hence  
Were but one danger, and to keep him here  
Our certain death: therefore it is decreed,  
He dies to night.  Menen. 
Now the good Gods forbidden,  
That our renowned Rome▪ whose gratitude  
Towards her deserved Children, is enroled  
In Jove's own Book, like an unnatural Dam  
Should now eat up her own.  Sicin. 
He's a Disease that must be cut away.  Mene. 
Oh 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 dropped 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 th' end a ' th' World.  Sicin. 
This is clean kamme.  Brut. 
Merely awry:  
When he did love his Country, it honoured him.  Menen. 
The service of the foot  
Being once gangrened, is not then respected  
For what before it was.  Bru. 
we'll hear no more:  
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence,  
Lest his infection being of catching nature,  
Spread further.  Menen. 
One word more, one word:  
This Tiger-footed-rage, when it shall find  
The harm of vnskaned swiftness, will (too late)  
Tie Leaden pounds too's heels. Proceed by Process,  
Lest parties (as he is beloved) break out,  
And sack great Rome with Romans.  Brut. 
If it were so?  Sicin. 
What do ye talk?  
Have we not had a taste of his Obedience?  
Our Aediles smote: ourselves resisted: come.  Mene. 
Consider this: He has been bred i' th' Wars  
Since a could draw a Sword, and is ill schooled  
In bolted Language: Meal and Bran together  
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,  
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him in peace,  
Where he shall answer by a lawful Form  
(In peace) to his utmost peril.  1. Sen. 
Noble Tribunes,  
It is the humane way: the other course  
Will prove to bloody: and the end of it,  
Unknown to the Beginning.  Sic. 
Noble Menenius, be you then as the people's officer:  
Masters, lay down your Weapons.  Bru. 
Go not home.  Sic. 
Meet on the Market place: we'll attend you there:  
Where if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed  
In our first way.  Menen. 
I'll bring him to you.  
Let me desire your company: he must come,  
Or what is worst will follow.  Sena. 
Pray you let's to him.  Exeunt Omnes. Enter Coriolanus with Nobles. Corio. 
Let them pull 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.  Enter Volumnia. Noble. 
You do the Nobler.  Corio. 
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. 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.  Volum. 
Oh sir, sir, sir,  
I would have had you put your power well on  
Before you had worn it out.  Corio. 
Let go.  Vol. 
You might have been enough the man you are,  
With striving less to be so: Lesser had been  
The things of your dispositions, if  
You had not showed them how ye were disposed  
Ere they lacked power to cross you.  Corio. 
Let them hang.  Volume. 
I, and burn too.  Enter Menenius with the Senators. Men. 
Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough: you must return, and mend it.  Sen. 
There's no remedy,  
Unless by not so doing, our good City  
Cleave in the midst, and perish.  Volume. 
Pray be counselled;  
I have a heart as little apt as yours,  
But yet a brain, that leads my use of Anger  
To better vantage.  Mene. 
Well said, Noble woman:  
Before he should thus stoop to ' th' heart, but that  
The violent fit o' th' time craves it as Physic  
For the whole State; I would put mine Armour on,  
Which I can scarcely bear.  Corio. 
What must I do?  Mene. 
Return to th' Tribunes.  Corio. 
Well, what then? what then?  Mene. 
Repent, what you have spoke.  Corio. 
For them, I cannot do it to the Gods,  
Must I then do't to them?  Volume. 
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 vnseuered Friends,  
I' th' War do grow together: Grant that, and tell me  
In Peace, what each of them by th' other lose,  
That they combine not there?  Corio. 
Tush, tush.  Mene. 
A good demand.  Volum. 
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.  Corio. 
Why force you this?  Volum. 
Because, that  
Now it lies you on to speak to th' people:  
Not by your own instruction, nor by ' th' matter  
Which your heart prompts you, but with such words  
That are but roated in your Tongue;  
Though but Bastards, and Syllables  
Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth.  
Now, this no more dishonours you at all,  
Then 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 Honor. I am in this  
Your Wife, your Son: These Senators, the Nobles,  
And you, will rather show our general Lowts,  
How you can frown, then spend a fawn upon 'em,  
For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard  
Of what that want might ruin.  Menen. 
Noble Lady,  
Come go with us, speak fair: you may salve so,  
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss  
Of what is past.  Volum. 
I pry thee now, my Son,  
Go to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand,  
And thus fare having stretched it (here be with them)  
Thy Knee bussing the stones: for in such business  
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' 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 ask their good loves, but thou wilt frame  
Thyself (forsooth) hereafter theirs so fare,  
As thou hast power and person.  Menen. 
This but done,  
Even as she speaks, why their hearts were yours:  
For they have Pardons, being asked, as free,  
As words to little purpose.  Volume. 
Prithee now,  
Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather  
Fellow thine Enemy in a fiery Gulf,  
Then flatter him in a Bower.  Enter Cominius. 
Here is Cominius.  Com. 
I have been i' th' Market place: and Sir 'tis fit  
You make strong party, or defend yourself  
By calmness, or by absence: all's in anger.  Menen. 
Only fair speech.  Com. 
I think 'twill serve, if he can thereto frame his spirit.  Volume. 
He must, and will:  
Prithee now say you will, and go about it.  Corio. 
Must I go show them my vnbarbed Sconce?  
Must I with my base Tongue give to 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 Martius, they to dust should grind it,  
And throwed against the Wind. Toth' Market place:  
You have put me now to such a part, which never  
I shall discharge toth' Life.  Com. 
Come, come, we'll prompt you.  Volume. 
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.  Corio. 
Well, I must do't:  
Away my disposition, and possess me  
Some Harlot's spirit: My throat of War be turned,  
Which quired with my Drum into a Pipe,  
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voice  
That Babies lull asleep: The smiles of Knave's  
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 Armed knees  
Who bowed but in my Stirrup, bend like his  
That hath received an Alms. I will not do't,  
Left I surcease to honour mine own truth,  
And by my Body's action, teach my Mind  
A most inherent Baseness.  Volume. 
At thy choice then:  
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour,  
Then thou of them. Come all to ruin, let  
Thy Mother rather feel thy Pride, then fear  
Thy dangerous Stoutness: for I mock at death  
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list,  
Thy Valiantness was mine, thou suckest it from me:  
But own thy Pride thyself.  Corio. 
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' th' way of Flattery further.  Volume. 
Do your will.  Exit Volumnia▪ Com. 
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.  Corio. 
The word is, Mildly. Pray you let us go,  
Let them accuse me by invention: I  
Will answer in mine Honor.  Menen. 
I, but mildly.  Corio. 
Well mildly be it then, Mildly.  Exeunt Enter Sicinius and Brutus. Bru. 
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. What, will he come?  Enter an Aedile. Aedile. 
he's coming.  Bru. 
How accompanied?  Aedile. 
With old Menenius, and those Senators  
That always favoured him.  Sicin. 
Have you a Catalogue  
Of all the Voices that we have procured, set down by ' th' Pole?  Aedile. 
I have: 'tis ready.  Sicin. 
Have you collected them by Tribes?  Aedile. 
I have.  Sicin. 
Assemble presently the people hither:  
And when they hear me say, it shall be so,  
I' th' right and strength o' th' 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' th' Truth o' th' Cause.  Aedile. 
I shall inform them.  Bru. 
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.  Edi. 
Very well.  Sicin. 
Make them be strong, and ready for this hint  
When we shall hap to give't them.  Bru. 
Go about it,  
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 reined again to Temperance, than he speaks  
What's in his heart, and that is there which looks  
With us to break his neck.  Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others. Sicin. 
Well, here he comes.  Mene. 
Calmly, I do beseech you.  Corio. 
I, as an Ostler, that fourth poorest piece  
Will bear the Knave by ' th' Volume:  
Th' honoured Gods  
Keep Rome in safety, and the Chairs of justice  
Supplied with worthy men, plant love amongst  
Through our large Temples with the shows of peace  
And not our streets with War.  1 Sen. 
Amen, Amen.  Mene. 
A Noble wish.  Enter the Aedile with the Plebeians. Sicin. 
Draw near ye people.  Aedile. 
List to your Tribunes. Audience:  
Peace I say.  Corio. 
First hear me speak.  Both Tri. 
Well, say: Peace ho.  Corio. 
Shall I be charged no further than this present?  
Must all determine here?  Sicin. 
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.  Corio. 
I am Content.  Mene. 
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' th' holy Churchyard.  Corio. 
Scratches with Briars, scars to move  
Laughter only.  Mene. 
Consider further:  
That when he speaks not like a Citizen,  
You find him like a Soldier: do not take  
His rougher Actions for malicious sounds:  
But as I say, such as become a Soldier,  
Rather than envy you.  Com. 
Well, well, no more.  Corio. 
What is the matter,  
That being passed for Consul with full voice:  
I am so dishonoured, that the very hour  
You take it off again.  Sicin. 
Answer to us.  Corio. 
Say then: 'tis true, I ought so  Sicin. 
We charge you, that you have contrived to take  
From Rome all seasoned Office, and to wind  
Yourself into a power tyrannical,  
For which you are a Traitor to the people.  Corio. 
How? Traitor?  Mene. 
Nay temperately: your promise.  Corio. 
The fires i' th' lowest hell. Fould in the people:  
Call me their Traitor, thou injurious Tribune.  
Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths  
In thy hands clutched: 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.  Sicin. 
Mark you this people?  All. 
To ' th' Rock, to ' th' Rock with him.  Sicin. 
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 th' extremest death.  Bru. 
But since he hath served well for Rome.  Corio. 
What do you prate of Service.  Brut. 
I talk of that, that know it.  Corio. 
You?  Mene. 
Is this the promise that you made your mother.  Com. 
Know, I pray you.  Corio. 
I'll know no further:  
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,  
Vagabond exile, Flaying, penned to linger  
But with a grain a day, I would not buy  
Their mercy, at the price of one fair word,  
Nor check my Courage for what they can give,  
To have't with saying, Good morrow.  Sicin. 
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 doth distribute it. In the name o' th' 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' th' People's name,  
I say it shall be so.  All. 
It shall be so, it shall be so: let him away:  
he's banished, and it shall be so.  Com. 
Hear me my Masters, and my common friends.  Sicin. 
He's sentenced: No more hearing.  Com. 
Let me speak:  
I have been Consul, and can show from Rome  
Her Enemy's 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.  Sicin. 
We know your drift. Speak what?  Bru. 
There's no more to be said, but he is banished  
As Enemy to the people, and his Country.  
It shall be so.  All. 
It shall be so, it shall be so.  Corio. 
You common cry of Curs, whose breath I hate,  
As reek o' th' rotten Fens: whose Loves I prise,  
As the dead Carcases 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 but 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, with Cumalijs. They all shout, and throw up their Caps. Aedile. 
The people's Enemy is gone, is gone.  All. 
Our enemy is banished, he is gone: Ho, oo.  Sicin. 
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.  All. 
Come, come, let's see him out at gates, come:  
The Gods preserve our Noble Tribunes, come.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the young Nobility of Rome. Corio. 
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, Extremities was the trier of spirits,  
That common chances. Common men could bear,  
That when the Sea was calm, all Boats alike  
Showed Mastership in floating. Fortune's blows,  
When most strooke home, being gentle wounded, craves  
A Noble cunning. You were used to load me  
With Precepts that would make invincible  
The heart that conned them.  Virg. 
Oh heavens! O heavens!  Corio. 
Nay, I prithee woman.  Vol. 
Now the Red Pestilence strike all Trades in Rome,  
And Occupations perish.  Corio. 
What, what, what:  
I shall be loved when I am lacked. Nay Mother,  
Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say,  
If you had been the Wife of Hercules.  
Six of his Labours you'd 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 the Stern, and thou hast oft beheld  
Heart-hardning spectacles. Tell these sad women,  
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,  
As 'tis to laugh at 'em My Mother, you wots 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 feared, and talked of more than seen: your Son  
Will or exceed the Common, or be caught  
With cautelous baits and practice.  Volume. 
My first son,  
Whether will thou go? Take good Cominius  
With thee a while: Determine on some course  
More than a wild exposture, to each chance  
That start's i' th' way before thee.  Corio. 
O the Gods!  Com. 
I'll follow thee a Month, devise with thee  
Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st 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 th' absence of the needer.  Corio. 
Far 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.  Menen. 
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'd with thee, every foot.  Corio. 
Give me thy hand, come.  Exeunt Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus', with the Aedile. Sicin. 
Bid them all home, he's gone: & we'll no further,  
The Nobility are vexed, whom we see have sided  
In his behalf.  Brut. 
Now we have shown our power,  
Let us seem humbler after it is done,  
Then when it was a doing.  Sicin. 
Bid them home: say their great enemy is gone,  
And they, stand in their ancient strength.  Brut. 
Dismiss them home. Here comes his Mother.  Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius. Sicin. 
Let's not meet her.  Brut 
Why?  Sicin. 
They say she's mad.  Brut. 
They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.  Volume. 
Oh ye are well met:  
Th' hoarded plague o' th' Gods requited your love.  Menen. 
Peace, peace, be not so loud.  Volume. 
If that I could for weeping, you should hear,  
Nay, and you shall hear some. Will you be gone?  Virg. 
You shall stay too: I would I had the power  
To say so to my Husband.  Sicin. 
Are you mankind?  Volume, 
I fool, is that a shame. Note but this Fool,  
Was not a man my Father? Hadst thou Foxship  
To banish him that strooke more blows for Rome  
Then thou hast spoken words.  Sicin. 
Oh blessed Heavens!  Volume. 
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.  Sicin. 
What then?  Virg. 
What then? he'd make an end of thy posterity  Volume. 
Bastards, and all.  
Good man, the Wounds that he does bear for Rome!  Menen. 
Come, come, peace.  Sicin. 
I would he had continued to his Country  
As he began, and not unknit himself  
The Noble knot he made.  Bru. 
I would he had.  Volume. 
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.  Brut. 
Pray let's go.  Volume. 
Now pray sir get you gone.  
You have done a brave deed: Ere you go, hear this:  
As fare as doth the Capitol exceed  
The meanest house in Rome; so fare my Son  
This Lady's Husband here; this (do you see)  
Whom you have banished, does exceed you all.  Bru. 
Well, well, we'll leave you.  Sicin. 
Why stay we to be baited  
With one that wants her Wits.  Exit Tribunes. Volum. 
Take my Prayers with you.  
I would the Gods had nothing else to do,  
But to confirm my Curses. Can I meet 'em  
But once a day, it would unclogge my heart  
Of what lies heavy too't.  Mene. 
You have told them home,  
And by my troth you have cause: you'll Sup with me.  Volume. 
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.  Exeunt Mene. 
Fie, fie, fie.  Exit. Enter a Roman, and a Volce. Rom. 
I know you well sir, and you know me: your name I think is Adrian.  Volce. 
It is so sir, truly I have forgot you.  Rom. 
I am a Roman, and my Services are as you are, against 'em. Know you me yet.  Volce. 
Nicanor: no.  Rom. 
The same sir.  Volce. 
You had more Beard when I last saw you, but your Favour is well appeared by your Tongue. What's the News in Rome: I have a Note from the Volcean state to find you out there. You have well saved me a day's journey.  Rom. 
There hath been in Rome strange Insurrections: The people, against the Senators, Patricians, and Nobles.  Vol. 
Hath been; is it ended then? Our State thinks not so, they are in a most warlike preparation, & hope to come upon them, in the heat of their division  Rom. 
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.  Vol. 
Coriolanus Banished?  Rom. 
Banished sir.  Vol. 
You will be welcome with this intelligence Nicanor.  Rom. 
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 fall'n out with her Husband. Your Noble Tullus Auffidius well appear well in these Wars, his great Opposer Coriolanus being now in no request of his country.  Volce. 
He cannot choose: I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you. You have ended my Business, and I will merrily accompany you home.  Rom. 
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?  Vol. 
A most Royal one: The Centurions, and their charges distinctly billeted already in th' entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning.  Rom. 
I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man I think, that shall set them in present Action. So sir, hearty well met, and most glad of your Company.  Volce. 
You take my part from me sir, I have the most cause to be glad of yours.  Rom. 
Well, let us go together.  Exeunt. Enter Coriolanus in mean Apparel, Disguised, and muffled. Corio. 
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. Save you sir.  Enter a Citizen. Cit 
And you.  Corio. 
Direct me, if it be your will, where great Auffidius lies: Is he in Antium?  Cit 
He is, and Feasts the Nobles of the State, at his house this night.  Corio. 
Which is his house, beseech you?  Cit 
This here before you.  Corio. 
Thank you sir, farewell.  Exit Citizen 
Oh World, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,  
Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart,  
Whose Hours, 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 inter-joine their issues. So with me,  
My Birth-place have I, and my loves 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. Music plays. Enter a Servingman. 1 Ser. 
Wine, Wine, Wine: What service is here? I think our Fellows are asleep.  Enter another Servingman. 2 Ser. 
Where's Cotus: my M. calls for him: Cotus.  Exit. Enter Coriolanus. Corio. 
A goodly House:  
The Feast smells well: but I appear not like a Guest.  Enter the first Servingman. 1 Ser. 
What would you have Friend? whence are you?  
Here's no place for you: Pray go to the door?  Exit Corio. 
I have deserved no better entertainment, in being Coriolanus.  Enter second Servant. 2 Ser. 
Whence are you sir? Has the Porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such Companions? Pray get you out.  Corio. 
Away.  2 Ser. 
Away? Get you away.  Corio. 
Now th' art troublesome.  2 Ser. 
Are you so brave: I'll have you talked with anon  Enter 3 Servingman, the 1 meets him. 3 
What Fellows this?  1 
A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him out o' th' house: Prithee call my Master to him.  3 
What have you to do here fellow? Pray you avoid the house.  Corio. 
Let me but stand, I will not hurt your Hearth.  3 
What are you?  Corio. 
A Gentleman.  3 
A maru'llous poor one.  Corio. 
True, so I am.  3 
Pray you poor Gentleman, take up some other station: here's no place for you, pray you avoid: Come.  Corio. 
Fellow your Function, go, and batten on cold bits.  Bushes him away from him. 3 
What you will not? Prithee tell my Master what a strange Guest he has here.  2 
And I shall.  Exit second Servingman. 3 
Where dwellest thou?  Corio. 
Under the Canopy.  3 
Under the Canopy?  Corio. 
I.  3 
Where's that?  Corio. 
I' th' City of Kites and Crows.  3 
I' th' City of Kites and Crows? What an Ass it is, than thou dwellest with Daws too?  Corio. 
No, I serve not thy Master.  3 
How sir? Do you meddle with my Master?  Corio. 
I, 'tis an honester service, then to meddle with thy Mistress: Thou prat'st, and prat'st, serve with thy trencher: Hence.  Beats him away Enter Auffidius with the Servingman. Auf. 
Where is this Fellow?  2 
Here sir, I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the Lords within.  Auf. 
Whence comest thou? What wouldst thou? Thy name?  
Why speakest not? Speak man: What's thy name?  Corio. 
If Tullus not yet thou knowst me, and seeing me, dost not think me for the man I am, necessity commands me name myself.  Auf. 
What is thy name?  Corio. 
A name unmusicall to the Volcians cares,  
And harsh in sound to thine.  Auf. 
Say, what's thy name?  
Thou hast a Grim appearance, and thy Face  
Bears a Command in't: Though thy Tackles torn,  
Thou show'st a Noble Vessel: What's thy name?  Corio. 
Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st thou me yet?  Auf. 
I know thee not? Thy Name?  Corio. 
My name is Caius Martius, who hath done  
To thee particularly, and to all the Volces  
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 requitted:  
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 devoured the rest:  
And suffered me by th' voice of Slaves to be  
Hooped 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 feared death, of all the Men i' th' 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 strait  
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 Cankered Country, with the Spleen  
Of all the under Fiends. But if so be,  
Thou darest not this, and that to prove more Fortunes  
The art 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 followed thee with hate,  
Drawn Tons of Blood out of thy Country's breast,  
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless  
It be to do thee service.  Auf. 
Oh Martius, Martius;  
Each word thou hast spoke, hath weeded from my heart  
A root of Ancient Enuy. If jupiter  
Should from yond cloud speak divine things,  
And say 'tis true; I'd not believe them more  
Than thee all-Noble Martius. Let me twine  
Mine arms about that body, where against  
My grained Ash an hundred times hath broke,  
And scared the Moon with splinters: here I cleep  
The Anvile 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  
Sighed truer breath. But that I see thee here  
Thou Noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,  
Then 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 hue thy Target from thy Brawn,  
Or lose mine Arm for't: 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,  
Vnbuckling Helms, fisting each others Throat,  
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Martius,  
Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that  
Thou art thence Banished, we would muster all  
From twelve, to seventy: and pouring War  
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,  
Like a bold Flood o're-beate. Oh come, go in,  
And take our Friendly Senators by ' th' hands  
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,  
Who am prepared against your Territories,  
Though not for Rome itself.  Corio. 
You bless me Gods.  Auf. 
Therefore most absolute Sir, if thou wilt have  
The leading of thine own Revenges, take  
Th' one half of my Commission, and set down  
As best thou art experienced, since thou knowst  
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, then ere an Enemy,  
Yet Martius that was much. Your hand: most welcome.  Exeunt Enter two of the Servingmen. 1 
here's a strange alteration?  2 
By my hand, I had thought to have strooken him with a Cudgel, and yet my mind gave me, his clothes made a false report of him.  1 
What an Arm he has, he turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a Top.  2 
Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him. He had fir, a kind of face me thought, I cannot tell how to term it.  1 
He had so, looking as it were, would I were hanged but I thought there was more in him, than I could think.  2 
So did I, I'll be sworn: He is simply the rarest man i' th' world.  1 
I think he is: but a greater soldier than he,  
You wots one.  2 
Who my Master?  1 
Nay, it's no matter for that.  2 
Worth six on him.  1 
Nay not so neither: but I take him to be the greater Soldier.  2 
Faith look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the Defence of a Town, our General is excellent.  1 
I, and for an assault too.  Enter the third Servingman. 3 
Oh Slaves, I can tell you News, News you Rascals  Both. 
What, what, what? Let's partake.  3 
I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as live be a condemned man.  Both. 
Wherefore? Wherefore?  3 
Why here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Caius Martius'.  1 
Why do you say, thwack our General?  3 
I do not say thwack our General, but he was always good enough for him▪  2 
Come we are fellows and friends: he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself.  1 
He was too hard for him directly, to say the Troth on't before Corioles, he scotched him, and notched him like a Carbinado.  2 
And he had been Cannibal given, he might have boiled and eaten him too.  1 
But more of thy News.  3 
Why he is so made on here within, as if he were Son and Heir to Mars, set at upper end o' th' 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' th' eye to his Discourse. But the bottom of the News is, our General is cut i' th' middle, & 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 sole the Porter of Rome Gates by th' ears. He will mow all down before him, and leave his passage pouled.  2 
And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine.  3 
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.  1 
Directitude? What's that?  3 
But when they shall see sir, his Crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their Burrougheses (like Coneys after Rain) and revel all with him.  1 
But when goes this forward:  3 
To morrow, to day, presently, you shall have the Drum strooke up this afternoon: 'Tis as it were a parcel of their Feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.  2 
Why then we shall have a stirring World again: This peace is nothing, but to rust Iron, increase Tailors, and breed Ballad-makers.  1 
Let me have War say I, it exceeds peace as fare as day does night: It's sprightly walking, audible, and full of Vent. Peace, is a very Apoplexy, Lethargy, mulled, deaf, sleep, insensible, a getter of more bastard. Children, than wars a destroyer of men.  2 
'Tis so, and as wars in some sort may be said to be a Ravishen, so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of Cuckolds.  1 
I, and it makes men hate one another.  3 
Reason, because they then less need one another: The Wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volcians. They are rising, they are rising.  Both. 
In, in, in, in.  Exeunt Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus'. Sicin. 
We hear not of him, neither need we fear him,  
His remedies are tame, 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, then see  
Our Tradesmen singing in their shops, and going  
About their Functions friendly.  Enter Menenius. Bru. 
We stood too't in good time. Is this Menenius?  Sicin. 
'Tis he, 'tis he: O he is grown most kind of late: Hail Sir.  Mene. 
Hail to you both.  Sicin. 
Your Coriolanus is not much mist, but with his Friends: the Commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, were he more angry at it.  Mene. 
All's well, and might have been much better, if he could have temporised.  Sicin. 
Where is he, hear you?  Mene. 
Nay I hear nothing:  
His Mother and his wife, hear nothing from him.  Enter three or four Citizens. All. 
The Gods preserve you both.  Sicin. 
Gooden our Neighbours.  Bru. 
Gooden to you all, gooden to you all.  1 
Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees,  
Are bound to pray for you both.  Sicin. 
Live, and thrive.  Bru. 
Farewell kind Neighhours:  
We wished Coriolanus had loved you as we did.  All. 
Now the Gods keep you.  Both Tri. 
Farewell, farewell.  Exeunt Citizens Sicin. 
This is a happier and more comely time,  
Then when these Fellows ran about the streets,  
Crying Confusion.  Bru. 
Caius Martius' was  
A worthy Officer i' th' War, but Insolent,  
O'ercome with Pride, Ambitious, past all thinking  
Self-loving.  Sicin. 
And affecting one sole Throne, without assistance  Mene. 
I think not so.  Sicin. 
We should by this, to all our Lamention,  
If he had gone forth Consul, found it so.  Bru. 
The Gods have well prevented it, and Rome  
Sits safe and still, without him.  Enter a Aedile. Aedile. 
Worthy Tribunes,  
There is a Slave whom we have put in prison,  
Reports the Volces with two several Powers  
Are entered in the Roman Territories,  
And with the deepest malice of the War,  
Destroy, what lies before 'em.  Mene. 
'Tis Auffidius,  
Who hearing of our Martius Banishment,  
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world  
Which were In-shelled, when Martius stood for Rome,  
And durst not once peep out.  Sicin. 
Come, what talk you of Martius.  Bru. 
Go see this Rumourer whipped, it cannot be,  
The Volces dare break with us.  Mene. 
Cannot be?  
We have Record, that very well it can,  
And three examples of the like, hath 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.  Sicin. 
Tell not me: I know this cannot be.  Bru. 
Not possible.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
The Nobles in great earnestness are going  
All to the Senate-house: some news is coming  
That turns their Countenances.  Sicin. 
'Tis this Slave:  
Go whip him fore the people's eyes: His raising,  
Nothing but his report.  Mes. 
Yes worthy Sir,  
The Slaves report is seconded, and more  
More fearful is delivered.  Sicin. 
What more fearful?  Mes. 
It is spoke freely out of many mouths,  
How probable I do not know, that Martius  
Joined with Auffidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,  
And vows Revenge as spacious, as between  
The youngest and oldest thing.  Sicin. 
This is most likely.  Bru. 
Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish  
Good Martius home again.  Sicin. 
The very trick on't.  Mene. 
This is unlikely,  
He, and Auffidius can no more atone  
Then violentest Contrariety.  Enter Messenger. Mes. 
You are sent for to the Senate:  
A fearful Army, led by Caius Martius',  
Associated with Auffidius, Rages  
Upon our Territories, and have already  
O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took  
What lay before them.  Enter Cominius. Com. 
Oh you have made good work.  Mene. 
What news? What news?  Com. 
You have holp to ravish your own daughters, &  
To melt the City Leads upon your pates,  
To see your Wives dishonoured to your Noses.  Mene. 
What's the news? What's the news?  Com. 
Your Temples burned in their Cement, and  
Your Franchises, whereon you stood, confined  
Into an Augors boar.  Mene. 
Pray now, your News:  
You have made fair work I fear me: pray your news,  
If Martius should be joined with Volceans.  Com. 
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,  
Then Boys pursuing Summer Butterflies,  
Or Butchers killing Flies.  Mene. 
You have made good work,  
You and your Apron men: you, that stood so much  
Upon the voice of occupation, and  
The breath of Garlicke-eaters.  Com. 
He I shake your Rome about your ears.  Mene. 
As Hercules did shake down Mellow Fruit▪  
You have made fair work.  Brut. 
But is this true sir?  Come, 
I, and you'll look pale  
Before you find it other. All the Regions  
Do smilingly Revolt, and who resists  
Are mocked for valiant Ignorance,  
And perish constant Fools: who is't can blame him?  
Your Enemies and his, find something in him.  Mene. 
We are all undone, unless  
The Noble man have mercy.  Com. 
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 showed like Enemies.  Me. 
'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.  Com. 
You have brought  
A Trembling upon Rome, such as was never  
S'incapeable of help.  Tri. 
Say not, we brought it.  Mene. 
How? Was't we? We loved him,  
But like Beasts, and Cowardly Nobles,  
Gave way unto your Clusters, who did hoot  
Him out o' th' City.  Com. 
But I fear  
They'll roar him in again. Tullus Auffidius,  
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. Mene. 
here come the Clusters.  
And is Auffidius 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.  Omnes. 
Faith, we hear fearful News.  1 Cit 
For mine own part.  
When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity.  2 
And so did I.  3 
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.  Com. 
YE are goodly things, you Voices.  Mene. 
You have made good work  
You and your cry. shall's to the Capitol?  Com. 
Oh I, what else?  Exeunt both. Sicin. 
Go Masters get you home, be not dismayed,  
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.  1 Cit 
The Gods be good to us: Come Masters let's home, I ever said we were i' th' wrong, when we banished him.  2 Cit 
So did we all. But come, let's home.  Exit Cit Bru. 
I do not like this News.  Sicin. 
Nor I.  Bru. 
Let's to the Capitol: would half my wealth  
Would buy this for a lie.  Sicin. 
Pray let's go.  Exeunt Tribunes. Enter Auffidius with his Lieutenant. Auf. 
Do they still fly to ' th' Roman?  Lieu. 
I do not know what Witchcrafts in him: but  
Your Soldiers use him as the Grace 'fore meat,  
Their talk at Table, and their Thanks at end,  
And you are darkened in this action Sir,  
Even by your own.  Auf. 
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.  Lieu. 
Yet I wish Sir,  
(I mean for your particular) you had not  
Joined in Commission with him: but either have borne  
The action of yourself, or else to him, had left it solely.  Auf. 
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 th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly:  
And shewe● good Husbandry for the Volcian State,  
Fights Dragonlike, and does atcheeve as soon  
As draw his Sword: yet he hath left undone  
That which shall break his neck, or hazard mine,  
When ere we come to our account.  Lieu. 
Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?  Auf. 
All places yields 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 Aspray to the Fish, who takes it  
By Sovereignty of Nature. First, he was  
A Noble servant to them, but he could not  
Carry his Honour's eeven: whether ' was Pride  
Which out of daily Fortune ever taints  
The happy man; whether detect of judgement,  
To fail in the disposing of those chances  
Which he was Lord of: or whether Nature,  
Not to be other then one thing, not moving  
From th' Cask to th' Cushion: but commanding peace  
Even with the same austerity and garb,  
As he controlled the war. But one of these  
(As he hath spices of them all) not all,  
For I dare so fare free him, made him feared,  
So hated, and so banished: but he has a Merit  
To choke it in the vtt'rance: So our Virtue,  
Lie in th' interpretation of the time,  
And power unto itself most commendable,  
Hath not a Tomb so evident as a Chair  
T' extol what it hath done.  
One fire drives out one fire; one Nail, one Nail;  
Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do fail.  
Come let's away: when Caius Rome is thine,  
Thou art poorest of all; then shortly art thou mine.  exeunt  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, the two Tribunes, with others. Menen. 
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 called me Father:  
But what o''at? Go you that banished him  
A Mile before his Tent, fall down, and knee  
The way into his mercy: Nay, if he coyed  
To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.  Com. 
He would not seem to know me.  Menen. 
Do you hear?  Com. 
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 too: Forbade all Names,  
He was a kind of Nothing, Titlelesse,  
Till he had forged himself a name o' th' fire  
Of burning Rome.  Menen. 
Why so: you have made good work:  
A pair of Tribunes, that have wracked for Rome,  
To make Coals cheap: A Noble memory.  Com. 
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 punished.  Menen. 
Very well, could he say less.  Com. 
I offered 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 th' offence.  Menen. 
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 smelled  
Above the Moon. We must be burnt for you.  Sicin. 
Nay, pray be patiented: If you refuse your aid  
In this so never-needed help, yet do not  
Vpbraid'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.  Mene. 
No: I'll not meddle.  Sicin. 
Pray you go to him.  Mene. 
What should I do?  Bru. 
Only make trial what your Love can do,  
For Rome, towards Martius.  Mene. 
Well, and say that Martius return me,  
As Cominius is returned, unheard: what then?  
But as a discontented Friend, greefe-shot  
With his unkindness. Say't be so?  Sicin. 
Yet your good will  
Must have that thankes from Rome, after the measure  
As you intended well.  Mene. 
I'll vndertaked:  
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 vnfilled, our blood is cold, and then  
We pout upon the Morning, are unapt  
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuffed  
These Pipes, and these Conveyances of our blood  
With Wine and Feeding, we have suppler Souls  
Then in our Priestlike Fasts: therefore I'll watch him  
Till he be dieted to my request,  
And then I'll set upon him.  Bru. 
You know the very road into his kindness,  
And cannot lose your way.  Mene. 
Good faith I'll prove him,  
Speed how it will. I shall ere long, have knowledge  
Of my success.  Exit. Com. 
he'll never hear him.  Sicin. 
Not.  Com. 
I tell you, he does sit in Gold, his eye  
Red as 'twould burn Rome: and his Injury  
The Gaoler to his pity. I kneeled before him,  
'Twas very faintly he said Rise: dismissed 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 hast them on.  Exeunt Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard. 1. Wat. 
Stay: whence are you.  2. Wat. 
Stand, and go back.  Me. 
You guard like men, 'tis well. But by your leave,  
I am an Officer of State, & come to speak with Coriolanus  1 
From whence?  Mene. 
From Rome.  1 
You may not pass, you must return: our General will no more hear from thence.  2 
You'll see your Rome embraced with fire, before  
You'll speak with Coriolanus.  Mene. 
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 touched your ears: it is Menenius.  1 
Be it so, go back: the virtue of your name,  
Is not here passable.  Mene. 
I tell thee Fellow,  
Thy General is my Lover: I have been  
The book of his good Acts, whence men have read  
His Fame vnparolelled, happily 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) stamped the Leasing. Therefore Fellow,  
I must have leave to pass.  1 
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.  Men. 
Prithee fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your General.  2 
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.  Mene. 
Has he dined canst thou tell? For I would not speak with him, till after dinner.  1 
You are a Roman, are you?  Mene. 
I am as thy General is.  1 
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.  Mene. 
Sirrah, if thy Captain knew I were here,  
He would use me with estimation.  1 
Come, my Captain knows you not.  Mene. 
I mean thy General.  1 
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.  Mene. 
Nay but Fellow, Fellow.  Enter Coriolanus with Auffidius. Corio. 
What's the matter?  Mene. 
Now you Companion: I'll say an arrant for you: you shall know now that I am in estimation: you shall perceive, that a jacke gardant cannot office me from my Son Coriolanus, guess but my entertainment with him: if thou standest not i' th' state of hanging, or of some death more long in Spectatorship, and crueler in suffering, behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. 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 Soul 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.  Corio. 
Away.  Mene. 
How? Away?  Corio. 
Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affairs  
Are Seruanted to others: Though I own  
My Revenge properly, my remission lies  
In Volcean 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,  
And would have sent it. Another word Menenius,  
I will not hear thee speak. This man Auffidius  
Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou beholdest.  Auffid. 
You keep a constant temper.  Exeunt Manet the Guard and Menenius. 1 
Now sir, is your name Menenius?  2 
'Tis a spell you see of much power:  
You know the way home again.  1 
Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?  2 
What cause do you think I have to swoon?  Menen. 
I neither care for th' world, nor your General: for such things as you. I can scarce think there's any, ye are 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 1 
A Noble Fellow I warrant him.  2 
The worthy Fellow is our General. He's the Rock,  
The Oak not to be wind-shaken.  Exit Watch. Enter Coriolanus and Auffidius. Corio. 
We will before the walls of Rome to morrow  
Set down our Host. My partner in this Action,  
You must report to th' Volcian Lords, how plainly  
I have borne this Business.  Auf. 
Only their ends you have respected,  
Stopped your ears against the general suit of Rome:  
Never admitted a private whisper, no not with such friends  
That thought them sure of you.  Corio. 
This last old man,  
Whom with a cracked 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 showed sourly to him) once more offered  
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 too. Fresh Embasses, 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 Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, young Martius, with Attendants. 
My wife comes foremost, than the honoured 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 Curtsy worth? Or those Doves eyes,  
Which can make God's 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 Volces  
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, & knew no other kin  Virgil. 
My Lord and Husband.  Corio. 
These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.  Virg. 
The sorrow that delivers us thus changed,  
Makes you think so.  Corio. 
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 Virgined it ere since. You Gods, I pray,  
And the most noble Mother of the world  
Leave unsaluted: Sink my knee i' th' earth,  Kneels 
Of thy deep duty, more impression show  
Then that of common Sons.  Volume. 
Oh stand up blessed!  
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.  Corio. 
What's 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.  Volume. 
Thou art my Warrior, I hope to frame thee  
Do you know this Lady?  Corio. 
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 Diane's Temple: Dear Valeria.  Volume. 
This is a poor Epitome of yours,  
Which by th' interpretation of full time,  
May show like all yourself.  Corio. 
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' th' Wars  
Like a great Sea-mark standing every flaw,  
And saving those that eye thee.  Volum. 
Your knee, Sirrah.  Corio. 
That's my brave Boy.  Volume. 
Even he, your wife, this Lady, and myself,  
Are Suitors to you.  Corio. 
I beseech you peace:  
Or if you'd 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 Mechanickes. Tell me not  
Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not t' allay  
My Rages and Revenges, with your colder reasons.  Volume. 
Oh 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.  Corio. 
Auffidius, and you Volces mark, for we'll  
Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?  Volume. 
Should we be silent & 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 & 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 enmities most capital: Thou barrest 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 through 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,  
Then seek the end of one; thou shalt no sooner  
March to assault thy Country, then to tread  
(Trust too't, thou shalt not) on thy Mother's womb  
That brought thee to this world.  Virg. 
I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy,  
To keep your name living to time.  Boy. 
A shall not tread on me: I'll run away  
Till I am bigger, but then I'll sight.  Corio. 
Not of a woman's tenderness to be,  
Requires nor Child, nor woman's face to see:  
I have sat too long.  Volume. 
Nay, go not from us thus:  
If it were so, that our request did tend  
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy  
The Volces whom you serve, you might condemn us  
As poisonous of your Honour. No, our suit  
Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces  
May say, this mercy we have showed: the Romans,  
This we received, and each in either side  
Give the All-haile to thee, and cry be Blessed  
For making up this peace. Thou knowst (great Son)  
The end of Wars uncertain: but this certain,  
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit  
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name  
Whose repetition will be dogged with Curses:  
Whose Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble,  
But with his last Attempt, he wiped it out.  
Destroyed his Country, and his name remains  
To th' ensuing Age, abhorred. Speak to me Son:  
Thou hast affected the five strains of Honour,  
To imitate the graces of the Gods.  
To tear with Thunder the wide Cheeks o' th' Air,  
And yet to change thy Sulphur with a Bolt  
That should but rive an Oak. Why dost not speak?  
Thinkest thou it Honourable for a Nobleman  
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 let's me prate  
Like one i' th' Stocks. Thou hast never in thy life,  
Showed thy dear Mother any courtesy,  
When she (poor Hen) fond of no second brood,  
Has clocked thee to the Wars: and safely home  
Laden with Honor. 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 restrainest from me the Duty, which  
To a Mother's part belongs. He turns away:  
Down Ladies: let us shame him with him with our knees  
To his surname Coriolanus longs more pride  
Than pity to our Prayers. Downe: an end,  
This is the last. So, we will home to Rome,  
And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's,  
This Boy that cannot tell what he would have,  
But kneels, and holds up hands for fellowship,  
Does reason our Petition with more strength  
Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go:  
This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother:  
His Wife is in Corioles, and his Child  
Like him by chance: yet give us our dispatch:  
I am hushed until our City be afire, & then I'll speak a little  Holds her by the hand silent. Corio. 
O Mother, Mother!  
What have you done? Behold, the Heavens do open,  
The Gods look down, and this unnatural Scene  
They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh!  
You have won a happy Victory to Rome.  
But for your Son, believe it: Oh believe it,  
Most dangerously you have with him prevailed,  
If not most mortal to him. But let it come:  
Auffidius, though I cannot make true Wars,  
I'll frame convenient peace. Now good Auffidius,  
Were you in my steed, would you have heard  
A Mother less? or granted less Auffidius?  Auf. 
I was moved withal.  Corio. 
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, advice me: For my part,  
I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you, and pray you  
Stand to me in this cause. Oh Mother! Wife!  Auf. 
I am glad thou hast set thy mercy, & thy Honour  
At difference in thee: Out of that I'll work  
Myself a former Fortune.  Corio. 
I by and by; But we will drink together:  
And you shall bear  
A better witness back then words, which we  
On like conditions, will have Counter-sealed.  
Come enter with us: Ladies you deserve  
To have a Temple built you: All the Swords  
In Italy, and her Confederate Arms  
Can not have made this peace.  Exeunt. Enter Menenius and Sicinius. Mene. 
See you yond Coin o' th' Capitol, you ● corner stone?  Sicin. 
Why what of that?  Mene. 
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.  Sicin. 
Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man.  Mene. 
There is difference between a Grub & a Butterfly, yet your Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is grown from Man to Dragon: He has wings, he's more than a creeping thing.  Sicin. 
He loved his Mother dearly.  Mene. 
So did he me: and he no more remembers his Mother now, than an eight year old horse. The rareness 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 Corflet 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.  Sicin. 
Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.  Mene. 
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-Tyger, that shall our poor City find: and all this is long of you.  Sicin. 
The Gods be good unto us.  Mene. 
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. Mes. 
Sir, if you'd 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 another Messenger. Sicin. 
What's the News?  Mess. 
Good News, good news, the Ladies have prevailed,  
The Volcians are dislodged, and Martius gone:  
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,  
No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins.  Sicin. 
Friend, art thou certain this is true?  
Is't most certain.  Mes. 
As certain as I know the Sun is fire:  
Where have you lurked that you make doubt of it:  
ne'er through an Arch so hurried the blown Tide,  
As the recomforted through th' gates. Why hark you:  Trumpets, Oboes, Drums beat, altogether. 
The Trumpets, Sackbuts, Psalteries, and Fifes,  
Tabors, and Symbols, and the shouting Romans▪  
Make the Sun dance. Hark you.  A shout within Mene. 
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 prayed well to day:  
This Morning, for ten thousand of your throats,  
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy.  Sound still with the Shouts. Sicin. 
First, the Gods bless you for your tidings:  
Next, accept my thankfulness.  Mess. 
Sir, we have all great cause to give great thanks.  Sicin. 
They are near the City.  Mes. 
Almost at point to enter.  Sicin. 
we'll meet them, and help the joy.  Exeunt. Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing over the Stage, with other Lords. Sena. 
Behold our Patroness, the life of Rome:  
Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods,  
And make triumphant fires, strew Flowers before them:  
Vnshoot the noise that Banished Martius;  
Repeal him, with the welcome of his Mother:  
Cry welcome Ladies, welcome.  All. 
Welcome Ladies, welcome.  A Flourish with Drums & Trumpets. Enter Tullus Auffidius, with Attendants. Auf. 
Go tell the Lords o' th' City, I am here:  
Deliver them this Paper: having read it,  
Bid them repair to th' 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 entered, and  
Intends t' appear before the People, hoping  
To purge himself with words. Dispatch.  Enter 3 or 4 Conspirators of Auffidius Faction. 
Most Welcome.  1. Con. 
How is it with our General?  Auf. 
Even so, as with a man by his own Alms empoisoned, and with his Charity slain.  2. Con. 
Most Noble Sir, If you do hold the same intent  
Wherein you wished us parties: we'll deliver you  
Of your great danger.  Auf. 
Sir, I cannot tell,  
We must proceed as we do find the People.  3. Con. 
The People will remain uncertain, whilst  
'Twixt you there's difference: but the fall of either  
Makes the Suruivor heir of all.  Auf. 
I know it:  
And my pretext to strike at him, admits  
A good construction. I raised him, and I pawned  
Mine Honour for his truth: who being so heightened,  
He watered his new Plants with dews of Flattery,  
Seducing so my Friends: and to this end,  
He bowed his Nature, never known before,  
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.  3. Consp. 
Sir, his stoutness  
When he did stand for Consul, which he lost  
By lack of stooping.  Auf. 
That I would have spoke of:  
Being banished for't, he came unto my Hearth,  
Presented to my knife his Throat: I took him,  
Made him joint-seruant 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 seemed his Follower, not Partner; and  
He wadged me with his Countenance, as if  
I had been Mercenary.  1. Con. 
So he did my Lord:  
The Army marueyled at it, and in the last,  
When he had carried Rome, and that we looked  
For no less Spoil, than Glory.  Auf. 
There was it:  
For which my sinews shall be stretched 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 dye,  
And I'll renew me in his fall. But hark.  Drums and Trumpets sounds, with great shouts of the people. 1. Con. 
Your Native Town you entered like a Post,  
And had no welcomes home, but he returns  
Splitting the Air with noise.  2. Con. 
And patiented Fools,  
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear  
With giving him glory.  3. Con. 
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.  Auf. 
Say no more. here come the Lords▪  Enter the Lords of the City. All Lords. 
You are most welcome home.  Auff. 
I have not deserved it.  
But worthy Lords, have you with heed perused  
What I have written to you?  All. 
We have.  1. Lord. 
And grieve to hear't:  
What faults he made before the last, I think  
Might have sound 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.  Auf. 
He approaches, you shall hear him.  Enter Coriolanus marching with Drum, and Colours. The Commoners being with him. Corio. 
Hail Lords, I am returned your Soldier:  
No more infected with my Country's love  
Then 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  
Doth 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 th' Romans'. And we here deliver  
Subscribed by ' th' Consuls, and Patricians,  
Together with the Seal o' th' Senate, what  
We have compounded on.  Auf. 
Read it not Noble Lords,  
But tell the Traitor in the highest degree  
He hath abused your Powers.  Corio. 
Traitor? How now?  Auf. 
I Traitor, Martius.  Corio. 
Martius?  Auf. 
I Martius, Caius Martius': Dost thou think  
I'll grace thee with that Robbery, thy stolen name Coriolanus in Corioles?  
You Lords and Heads o' th' State, perfidiously  
He has betrayed 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' th' war: But at his Nurse's tears  
He whined and roared away your Victory,  
That Pages blushed at him, and men of heart  
Looked wondering each at others.  Corio. 
Hearest thou Mars?  Auf. 
Name not the God, thou boy of Tears.  Corio. 
Ha'?  Aufid. 
No more.  Corio. 
Measureless Liar, thou hast made my heart  
Too great for what contains it. Boy? Oh Slave,  
Pardon me Lords, 'tis the first time that ever  
I was forced to scouled. Your judgements my grave Lords  
Must give this Cur the Lie: and his own Notion,  
Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, that  
Must bear my beating to his Grave, shall join  
To thrust the Lie unto him.  1 Lord. 
Peace ●oth, and hear me speak.  Corio. 
Cut me to pieces Volces 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-coat, I  
Flattered your Volcians in Corioles.  
Alone I did it, Boy.  Auf. 
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 Consp. 
Let him dye for't.  All People. 
Tear him to pieces, do it presently:  
He killed my Son, my daughter, he killed my Cousin  
Marcus, he killed my Father.  2 Lord. 
Peace ho: no outrage, peace:  
The man is Noble, and his Fame folds in  
This Orb o' th' earth: His last offences to us  
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand Auffidius,  
And trouble not the peace.  Corio. 
O that I had him, with six Auffidiusses, or more:  
His Tribe, to use my lawful Sword.  Auf. 
Insolent Villain.  All Consp. 
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.  Draw both the Conspirators, and kills Martius, who falls, Auffidius stands on him. Lords. 
Hold, hold, hold, hold.  Auf. 
My Noble Masters, hear me speak.  1. Lord. 
O Tullus.  2. Lord. 
Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weep.  3. Lord. 
Tread not upon him Masters, all be quiet,  
Put up your Swords.  Auf. 
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.  1. Lord. 
Bear from hence his body,  
And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded  
As the most Noble Coarse, that ever Herald  
Did follow to his Urn.  2. Lord. 
His own impatience,  
Takes from Auffidius a great part of blame:  
Let's make the Best of it.  Auf. 
My Rage is gone,  
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up:  
Help three o' th' chiefest Soldiers, I'll be one.  
Beat thou the Drum that it speak mournfully:  
Trail your steel Pikes. Though in this City he  
Hath widowed 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 Martius. A dead March Sounded.  
FINIS.   

The Lamentable Tragedy of Titus Andronicus.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senator's aloft And then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one door, and Bassianus and his Followers at the other, with Drum & 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 was the firstborn 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, Follower's,  
Favourers 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  
Th' 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. 
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, Sur-named Pious,  
For many good and great deserts to Rome.  
A Nobler man, a braver Warrior,  
Life's not this day within the City Walls.  
He by the Senate is accited home  
From weary Wars against the barbarous Goths,  
That with his Sons (a terror to our Foes)  
Hath yoked a Nation strong, trained up in Arms.  
Ten years are spent, since first he undertook  
This Cause of Rome, and chastised with Arms  
Our Enemy's pride. Five times he hath returned  
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sons  
In Coffins from the Field.  
And now at last, laden with Honour'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.  Saturnine. 
How fair the Tribune speaks,  
To calm my thoughts.  Bassia. 
Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy  
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 Favour,  
Commit my Cause in balance to be weighed.  Exit Soldiers. Saturnine. 
Friends, that have been  
Thus forward in my Right,  
I thank you all, and here Dismiss you all,  
And to the Love and Favour of my Country,  
Commit myself, my Person, and the Cause:  
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,  
As I am confident and kind to thee.  
Open the Gates, and let me in.  Bassia. 
Tribunes, and me, a poor Competitor.  Flourish. They go up into the Senate house. Enter a Captain. Cap. 
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 returned,  
From whence he circumscribed with his Sword,  
And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.  Sound Drums and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sons; After them, two men bearing a Coffin covered with black, then two other Sons. After them, Titus Andronicus, and than Tamora the Queen of Goths, & her two Sons Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moor, and others, as many as can be: They set down the Coffin, and Titus speaks. Andronicus. 
Hail Rome:  
Victorious in thy Mourning Weeds:  
Lo as the Bark that hath discharged his fraught,  
Returns with precious lading to the Bay,  
From whence at first she weg●h'd her Anchorage:  
cometh Andronicus bound with Laurel bows,  
To resalute 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 intent.  
Romans', of five and twenty Valiant Sons,  
Half of the number that King Priam had,  
Behold the poor remains alive and dead!  
These that Suruive, 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 sufferest thou thy Sons unburied yet,  
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?  
Make way to lay them by their brethren.  They open the Tomb. 
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?  Luc. 
Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,  
That we may hue his limbs, and on a pile  
Admanus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh:  
Before this earthly prison of their bones,  
That so the shadows be not unappeased,  
Nor we disturbed with prodigies on earth.  Tit. 
I give him you, the Noblest that Suruives,  
The eldest Son of this distressed Queen.  Tam. 
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,  
Oh think my sons 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 slaughtered 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 Nobilities true badge,  
Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne son.  Tit. 
Patiented yourself Madam, and pardon me.  
These are the Brethren, whom you Goths beheld  
Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain,  
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:  
To this your son is marked, and die he must,  
T' appease their groaning shadows that are gone.  Luc. 
Away with him, and make a fire strait,  
And with our Swords upon a pile of wood,  
Let's hue his limbs till they be clean consumed.  Exit Sons with Alarbus. Tamo. 
O cruel irreligious piety.  Chi. 
Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?  Dem. 
Oppose me 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 armed the Queen of Troy  
With opportunity of sharp revenge  
Upon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent,  
May favour Tamora the Queen of Goths,  
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was Queen)  
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.  Enter the Sons of Andronicus again. Luci. 
See Lord and Father, how we have performed  
Our Roman rights, Alarbus limbs are lopped,  
And intrals feed the sacrificing fire,  
Whose smoke like in cense doth perfume the sky.  
Remaineth nought but to inter our Brethren,  
And with lowed Larums welcome them to Rome.  Tit. 
Let it be so, and let Andronicus  
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.  Flourish. Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins 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. Lavi. 
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 Brothers 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 Fortune Rome's best Citizens applaued.  Ti. 
Kind Rome,  
That hast thus lovingly reserved  
The Cordial of mine age to glad my hart,  
Lavinia live, outlive thy Father's days:  
And Fame's eternal date for virtue's praise.  Marc. 
Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother,  
Gracious Triumpher in the eyes of Rome.  Tit. 
Thanks Gentle Tribune,  
Noble brother Marcus.  Mar. 
And welcome▪ Nephews from successful wars,  
You that survive and you that sleep in Fame:  
Fair Lords your Fortunes are all 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 Emperors Sons:  
Be Candidatus then, and put it on,  
And help to set a head on headless Rome.  Tit. 
A better head her Glorious body fits,  
Then 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.  Mar. 
Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the Empery.  Sat. 
Proud and ambitious Tribune canst thou tell?  Titus. 
Patience Prince Saturninus.  Sat. 
Romans' do me right.  
Patricians draw your Swords, and sheathe them not  
Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor:  
Andronicus would thou wert shipped to hell,  
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts.  Luc. 
Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good  
That Noble minded Titus means to thee.  Tit. 
Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee  
The people's hearts, and we are them from themselves.  Bass. 
Andronicus, I do not flatter thee  
But Honour thee, and will do till I die:  
My Faction if thou strengthen with thy Friend?  
I will most thankful be, and thankes to men  
Of Noble minds, is Honourable Meede.  Tit, 
People of Rome, and Noble 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.  Tit. 
Tribunes I thank you, and this sure 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.  Mar. An. 
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. Satu. 
Titus Andronicus, for thy Favours done,  
To us in our Election this day,  
I give thee thankes 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 hart  
And in the Sacred Pathan her espouse:  
Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee?  Tit. 
It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match,  
I hold me Highly Honoured of your Grace,  
And here in fight of Rome, to Saturnine,  
King and Commander of our Commonweal,  
The Wide-worlds' Emperor, do I Consecrate,  
My Sword, my Chariot, and my Prisonerss,  
Presents well Worthy Rome's Imperial Lord:  
Receive them then, the Tribute that I own,  
Mine Honour's Ensigns humbled at my feet.  Satu. 
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.  Tit. 
Now Madam are your prisoner to an Emperor,  
To him that for you Honour and your State,  
Will use you Nobly and your followers.  Satu. 
A goodly Lady, trust me of the Hue  
That I would choose, were I to choose a new:  
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 your Greater than the Queen of Goths?  
Lavinia you are not displeased with this?  Lau. 
Not I my Lord, sith true Nobili●e,  
Warrants these words in Princely courtesy?  Sat. 
Thanks sweet Lavinia Romans let us go.  
Ransomless here we set our Prisoners free,  
Proclaim our Honour's Lords with Trump and Drum.  Bass. 
Lord Titus by your leave, this Maid is mine.  Tit. 
How sir? Are you in earnest than my Lord?  Bass. 
I Noble Titus, and resolved withal,  
To do myself this reason, and this right.  Marc. 
Suum cuiquam, is our Roman justice,  
This Prince in justice seizeth but his own.  Luc. 
And that he will and shall, if Lucius live.  Tit. 
Traitor's avaunt, where is the Emperor's Guard?  
Treason my Lord, Lavinia is surprised.  Sat. 
Surprised, by whom?  Bass. 
By him that justly may  
Bear his Betrothed, from all the world away.  Muti. 
Brother's help to convey her hence away,  
And with my Sword I'll keep this door safe.  Tit. 
Fellow my Lord▪ and I'll soon bring her back.  Mut. 
My Lord you pass not here.  Tit. 
What villain Boy, bar'st me my way in Rome?  Mut. 
Help Lucius help.  He kills him. Luc. 
My Lord you are unjust, and more than so,  
In wrongful quarrel, you have slain your son.  Tit. 
Nor thou, nor he are any sons of mine,  
My sons would never so dishonour me.  
Traitor restore Lavinia to the Emperor.  Luc. 
Dead if you will, but not to be his wife,  
That is another's lawful promised Love..  Enter aloft the Emperor with Tamora and her two sons, and Aaron the Moor. Empe, 
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.  
thou never: not thy Traitorous haughty sons,  
Confederates all, thus to dishonour me.  
Was none in Rome to make a stolen  
But Saturnine? Full well Andronicus  
Agree these Deeds, with that proud brag of thine,  
That saidst, I begged the Empire at thy hands.  Tit. 
O monstrous, what reproachful words are these?  Sat. 
But go thy ways, go give that changing piece,  
To him that flourished for her with his Sword:  
A valiant son in-law thou shalt enjoy:  
One, sit to bandy with thy lawless Sons,  
To ruffle in the Commonwealth of Rome.  Tit. 
These words are Razors to my wounded hart.  Sat. 
And therefore lovely Tamora Queen of Goths,  
That like the stately Thebes 'mongst her Nymphs  
Dost overshine the Gallantest 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 applaued my choice?  
And here I swear by all the Roman Gods,  
Sith Priest and Holywater are so near,  
And Tapers burn so bright, and every thing  
In readiness for Hymeneus stand,  
I will not res●lute the streets of Rome,  
Or climb my Palace, till from forth this place,  
I lead espoused my Bride along with me,  Tamo. 
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.  Satur. 
Ascend Fair Queen,  
Panthean 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 omnes. Tit. 
I am not bid to wait upon this Bride:  
Titus when were't thou wont to walk alone,  
Dishonoured thus and Challenged of wrongs?  Enter Marcus and Titus Sons. Mar 
O Titus see! O see what thou hast done!  
In a bad quarrel, slain a Virtuous son.  Tit. 
No foolish Tribune, no: No son of mine,  
Nor thou, nor these Confedrates in the deed,  
That hath dishonoured all our Family,  
Unworthy brother, and unworthy Sons.  Luci. 
But let us give him burial as becomes:  
Give Mutius burial with our brethren.  Tit. 
Traitor's away, he rests not in this Tomb:  
This Monument five hundreth 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.  Mar. 
My Lord this is impiety in you,  
My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him,  
He must be buried with his brethren.  Titus two Sons speaks. 
And shall, or him we will accompany.  Ti. 
And shall! What villain was it spoke that word?  Titus' son speaks. 
He that would vouched it in any place but here.  Tit. 
What would you bury him in my despite?  Mar. 
No Noble Titus, but entreat of thee,  
To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.  Tit. 
Marcus, Even thou hast stroke upon my Crest,  
And with these Boye● mine Honour thou hast wounded,  
My foes I do repute you every one.  
So trouble me no more, but get you gone.  1. Son. 
He is not himself, let us withdraw.  2. Son. 
Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.  The Brother and the sons kneel. Mar. 
Brother, for in that name doth nature pleaed.  2. Son. 
Father, and in that name doth nature speak.  Tit. 
Speak thou no more if all the rest will speed.  Mar. 
Renowned Titus more than half my soul.  Luc. 
Dear Father, soul and substance of us all.  Mar. 
Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter  
His Noble Nephew here in virtue's nest,  
That died in Honour and Lauinia's cause.  
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous:  
The Greeks upon advice did bury Aiax  
That slew himself: And Laertes son,  
Did graciously plead for his Funerals:  
Let not young Mutius than that was thy joy,  
Be barred his entrance here.  Tit. 
Rise Marcus, rise,  
The dismallest day is this that ere I saw,  
To be dishonoured by my Sons in Rome:  
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.  They put him in the Tomb. Luc. 
There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy friends  
Till we with Trophies do adorn thy Tomb.  They all kneel and say. 
No man shed tears for Noble Mutius,  
He life's in Fame, that died in virtue's cause.  Exit. Mar. 
My Lord to step out of these sudden dumps,  
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths,  
Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome?  Ti. 
I know not Marcus: but I know it is,  
(Whether by devise or no) the heavens can tell,  
Is she not then beholding to the man,  
That brought her for this high good turn so fare?  
Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.  Flourish. Enter the Emperor, Tamora, and her two sons, with the Moor at one door. Enter at the other door Bassianus and Lavinia with others. Sat. 
So Bassianus, you have played your prize,  
God give you joy sir of your Gallant Bride.  Bass. 
And you of yours my Lord: I say no more,  
Nor wish no less, and so I take my leave.  Sat. 
Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power,  
Thou and thy Faction shall repent this Rape.  Bass. 
Rape call you it my Lord, to cease my own,  
My true betrothed Love, and now my wife?  
But let the laws of Rome determine all,  
Mean while I am possessed of that is mine.  Sat. 
'Tis good sir: you are very short with us,  
But if we live, we'll be as sharp with you.  Bass. 
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 own to Rome,  
This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus here,  
Is in opinion and in honour wronged,  
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 controlled in that he frankly gave:  
Receive him then to favour Saturnine,  
That hath expre'st himself in all his deeds,  
A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome.  Tit. 
Prince Bassianus leave to plead my Deeds,  
'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me,  
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge,  
How I have loved and Honoured Saturnine.  Tam. 
My worthy Lord if ever Tamora,  
Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine,  
Then hear me speak indifferently for all:  
And at my suit (sweet) pardon what is past.  Satu. 
What Madam, be dishonoured openly,  
And basely put it up without revenge?  Tam. 
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.  
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 us 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 race 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.  
Come, come, sweet Emperor, (come Andronicus)  
Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart,  
That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.  King. 
Rise Titus, rise,  
My Empress hath prevailed.  Titus. 
I thank your Majesty,  
And her my Lord.  
These words, these looks,  
Infuse new life in me.  Tamo. 
Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,  
A Roman now adopted happily.  
And must advice 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 past  
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.  Son. 
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.  Mar. 
That on mine honour here I do protest.  King. 
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 hart look back.  King. 
Marcus,  
For thy sake and thy brothers 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.  Tit. 
To morrow and it please your Majesty,  
To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me,  
With horn and Hound,  
we'll give your Grace Bon iour.  Satur. 
Be it so Titus, and Gramercy to.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secunda.  Flourish. Enter Aaron alone. Aron. 
Now climbeth Tamora Olympus top,  
Safe out of Fortune's shot, and sits aloft,  
Secure of Thunder's crack or lightning flash,  
Advanced about pale envies threatening reach:  
As when the golden Sun salutes the morn,  
And having gilded the Ocean with his beams,  
Gallops the Zodiac in his glistering Coach,  
And overlookes the highest piering hills:  
So Tamora.  
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,  
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.  
Then Aaron arm thy hart, and fit thy thoughts,  
To mount aloft with thy Imperial Mistress,  
And mount her pitch, whom thou in ttiumph long  
Hast prisoner held, fettered in amorous chains,  
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes,  
Then is Prometheus tied to Caucasus.  
Away with slavish weeds, and idle 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 Semorimis, this Queen,  
This Siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine,  
And see his shipwreck, and his Common weals.  
Hollo, what storm is this?  Enter Chiron and Demetrius braving. Dem. 
Chiron thy years wants wit, thy wit wants edge  
And manners to intruded where I am graced,  
And may for aught thou knowst affected be.  Chi. 
Demetrius, thou dost overween 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 Lauinia's love.  Aron. 
Clubs, clubs, these lovers will not keep the peace.  Dem. 
Why Boy, although our mother (unadvised)  
Gave you a dancing Rapier by your side,  
Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends?  
Go too: have your Lath glued within your sheath,  
Till you know better how to handle it.  Chi. 
Mean while sir, with the little skill I have,  
Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.  Deme. 
I Boy, grow ye so brave?  They draw. Aron. 
Why how now Lords?  
So ne'er 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 dishonoured in the Court of Rome:  
For shame put up.  Deme. 
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.  Chi. 
For that I am prepared, and full resolved,  
Fowl spoken Coward,  
That thunderest with thy tongue,  
And with thy weapon nothing darest perform.  Aron. 
A way I say.  
Now by the Gods that warlike Goths adore,  
This pretty brabble will undo us all:  
Why Lords, and think you not how dangerous  
It is to set upon a Prince's right?  
What is Lavinia then become so lose,  
Or Bassianus so degenerate,  
That for her love such quarrels may be broached,  
Without controlment, justice, or revenge?  
Young Lords beware, and should the Empress know,  
This discord ground, the music would not please.  Chi. 
I care not I, knew she and all the world,  
I love Lavinia more than all the world.  Demet. 
Youngling,  
Learn thou to make some meaner choice,  
Lavinia is thine elder brothers hope.  Aron. 
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 devise.  Chi. 
Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose,  
To achieve her whom I do love.  Aron. 
To achieve her, how?  Deme. 
Why, makest thou it so strange?  
She is a woman, therefore may be wooed,  
She is a woman, therefore may be won,  
She is Lavinia therefore must be loved.  
What man, more water glideth by the Mill  
Then 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.  Aron, 
I, and as good as Saturnius may.  Deme. 
Then why should he despair that knows to court it  
With words, fair looks, and liberality:  
What hast not thou full often struck a do,  
And borne her cleanly by the Keeper's nose?  Aron. 
Why then it seems some certain snatch or so  
Would serve your turns.  Chi. 
I so the turn were served.  Deme. 
Aaron thou hast hit it.  Aron. 
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?  Chi. 
Faith not me.  Deme. 
Not me, so I were one.  Aron. 
For shame be friends, & 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 this 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 villain:  
Single you thither then this dainty do,  
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 villainy and vengeance consecrate,  
Will we acquaint with all that we intent,  
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, of ears:  
The Woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull:  
There speak, and strike brave Boys, & take your turns.  
There serve your lusts, shadowed from heaven's eye,  
And revel in Lauinia's Treasury.  Chi. 
Thy counsel Lad smells of no cowardice.  Deme. 
Sijs fas aut nefas, till I find the streams,  
To cool this heat, a Charm to calm their fits,  
Per Stigia per manes Vehor.  Exeunt. Enter Titus Andronicus and his three sons, making a noise with hounds and horns, and Marcus. Tit. 
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.  Wind Horns. here a cry of hounds, and wind horns in a peal, then Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and their Attendants. Ti. 
Many good morrows to your Majesty,  
Madam to you as many and as good.  
I promised your Grace, a Hunter's peal.  Satur. 
And you have rung it lustily my Lords,  
Somewhat to early for new married Ladies.  Bass. 
Lavinia, how say you?  Lavi. 
I say no:  
I have been awake two hours and more.  Satur. 
Come on then, horse and Chariots let us have,  
And to our sport: Madam, now shall ye see,  
Our Roman hunting.  Mar. 
I have dogs my Lord,  
Will rouse the proudest Panther in the Chase,  
And climb the highest Pomontary top.  Tit. 
And I have horse will follow where the game  
Makes way, and runs likes Swallows o'er the plain  Deme. 
Chiron we hunt not we, with Horse nor Hound  
But hope to pluck a dainty Do to ground.  Exeunt Enter Aaron alone. Aron. 
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 villainy:  
And so repose sweet Gold for their unrest,  
That have their Alms out of the Empress' Chest.  Enter Tamora to the Moor. Tamo. 
My lovely Aaron,  
Wherefore look'st thou sad,  
When every thing doth make a Gleefull 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 chequered 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 tun'd-Hornes,  
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 wand'ring Prince and Dido once enjoyed,  
When with a happy storm they were surprised,  
And Curtained with a Counsaile-keeping Cave,  
We may each wreathed in the others 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.  Aron. 
Madame,  
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 uncurles,  
Even as an Adder when she doth unrowle  
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 Philomela 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 life's destruction.  Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. Tamo. 
Ah my sweet Moor:  
Sweeter to me then life.  Aron. 
No more great Empress, Bassianus comes,  
Be cross with him, and I'll go fetch thy Sons  
To back thy quarrel what so ere they be.  Bassi. 
Whom have we here?  
Rome's Royal Empress,  
Unfurnished of our well beseeming troop?  
Or is it Diana habited like her,  
Who hath abandoned her holy Groves,  
To see the general Hunting in this Forest?  Tamo. 
Saucy controller of our private steps:  
Had I the power, that some say Diana had,  
Thy Temples should be planted presently.  
With Horns, as was Actaeon's, and the Hounds  
Should drive upon his new transformed limbs,  
Unmannerly Intruder as thou art.  Lavi. 
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.  Bassi. 
Believe me Queen, your swarth Cymerion,  
Doth make your Honour of his body's Hue,  
Spotted, detested, and abominable.  
Why are you sequestered from all your train?  
Dismounted from your Snowwhite goodly Steed,  
And wandered hither to an obscure plot,  
Accompanied with a barbarous Moor,  
If foul desire had not conducted you?  Lavi. 
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 coloured love,  
This valley fits the purpose passing well.  Bassi. 
The King my Brother shall have notice of this.  Lavi. 
I, for these slips have made him noted long,  
Good King, to be so mightily abused.  Tamora. 
Why I have patience to endure all this?  Enter Chiron and Demetrius. Dem. 
How now dear Sovereign  
And our gracious Mother,  
Why doth your Highness look so pale and wan?  Tamo. 
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 Misselto.  
here never shines the Sun, here nothing breeds,  
Unless the nightly Owl, or fatal Raven:  
And when they showed 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 called me foul Adulteress,  
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest tea●n●es  
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 called my Children,  Dem. 
This is a witness that I am thy Son.  stab him. Chi. 
And this for me,  
Struck home to show my strength.  Lavi. 
I come Semeramis nay Barbarous Tamora.  
For no name fits thy nature but thy own.  Tam. 
Give me thy poniard, you shall know my boys  
Your Mother's hand shall right your Mother's wrong.  Deme. 
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?  Chi. 
And if she do,  
I would I were an Eunuch,  
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,  
And make his dead Trunke-Pillow to our lust.  Tamo. 
But when ye have the honey we desire,  
Let not this Wasp outlive us both to sting.  Chir. 
I warrant you Madam we will make that sure:  
Come Mistress, now perforce we will enjoy,  
That nice-preserued honesty of yours.  Lavi. 
Oh Tamora, thou bearest a woman face.  Tamo. 
I will not hear her speak, away with her.  Lavi. 
Sweet Lords entreat her hear me but a word.  Demet. 
Listen fair Madam, let it be your glory  
To see her tears but be your hart to them,  
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.  Lavi. 
When did the Tiger's young-ones teach the dam?  
O do not learn her wrath, she taught it thee,  
The milk thou suckest from her did turn to Marble,  
Even at thy Teat thou hadst thy Tyranny,  
Yet every Mother breeds not Sons alike,  
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.  Chiro. 
What,  
Wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?  Lavi. 
'Tis true,  
The Raven doth not hatch a Lark,  
Yet have I heard, Oh 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:  
Oh be to me though thy hard hart say no,  
Nothing so kind but something pitiful.  Tamo. 
I know not what it means, away with her.  Lavin. 
Oh 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.  Tamo. 
Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me.  
Even for his sake am I pitiless:  
Remember Boys I poured 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.  Lavi. 
Oh Tamora,  
Be called a gentle Queen,  
And with thine own hands kill me in this place,  
For 'tis not life that I have begged so long,  
Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died.  Tam. 
What beg'st thou then? fond woman let me go?  Lavi. 
'Tis present death I beg, and one thing more,  
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:  
Oh keep me from their worse than kill lust,  
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,  
Where never man's eye may behold my body,  
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.  Tam. 
So should I rob my sweet Sons of their fee,  
No let them satisfy their lust on thee.  Deme. 
Away,  
For thou hast stayed us here too long.  Lavinia. 
No Garace,  
No womanhood? Ah beastly creature,  
The blot and enemy to our general name,  
Confusion fall—  Chi. 
Nay then I'll stop your mouth  
Bring thou her husband,  
This is the Hole where Aaron bid us hide him.  Tam. 
Farewell my Sons, see that you make her sure,  
Near let my heart know merry cheer indeed,  
Till all the Andronicuses be made away:  
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor,  
And let my spleenful Sons this Trull deflower.  Exit. Enter Aaron with two of Titus Sons. Aron. 
Come on my Lords, the better foot before,  
Strait will I bring you to the loathsome pit,  
Where I espied the Panther fast asleep.  Quin. 
My sight is very dull what ere it bodes.  Marti. 
And mine I promise you, were it not for shame,  
Well could I leave our sport to sleep a while.  Quin. 
What art thou fallen?  
What subtle Hole is this,  
Whose mouth is covered with Rude growing Briers,  
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed-blood,  
As fresh as morning's dew distilled on flowers,  
A very fatal place it seems to me:  
Speak Brother hast thou hurt thee with the fall?  Martius. 
Oh Brother,  
With the dismal'st object  
That ever eye with sight made heart lament.  Aron. 
Now will I fetch the King to find them here,  
That he thereby may have a likely guess,  
How these were they that made away his Brother.  Exit Aaron. Marti. 
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 oreruns my trembling joints,  
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.  Marti. 
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:  
Oh tell me how it is, for ne'er till now  
Was I a child, to fear I know not what.  Marti. 
Lord Bassianus lies imbrued here,  
All on a heap like to the slaughtered Lamb,  
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.  Quin. 
If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he?  Mart. 
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 earthly 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 Ocitus misty mouth.  Quint. 
Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out,  
Or wanting strength to do thee so much good,  
I may be plucked 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.  Quin. 
Thy hand once more, I will not lose again,  
Till thou art here aloft, or I below,  
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee.  Boths' fall in. Enter the Emperor, Aaron the Moor. Satur. 
Along with me, I'll see what hole is here,  
And what he is that now is leapt into it.  
Say, who art thou that lately did it descend,  
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?  Marti. 
The unhappy son of old Andronicus,  
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour,  
To find thy brother Bassianus dead.  Satur. 
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.  Marti. 
We know not where you left him all alive,  
But out alas, here have we found him dead.  Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius. Tamo. 
Where is my Lord the King?  King. 
here Tamora, though grieved with kill grief.  Tam. 
Where is thy brother Bassianus?  King. 
Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound,  
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.  Tam. 
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 Saturnine a Letter. Saturninus reads the Letter. 
And if we miss to meet him handsomely,  
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we mean,  
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him,  
Thou knowst our meaning, look for thy reward  
Among the Nettles at the Elder tree:  
Which over-shades the mouth of that same pit:  
Where we decreed to bury Bassianuss  
Do this and purchase us thy lasting friends.  King. 
Oh 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.  Aron. 
My gracious Lord here is the bag of Gold.  King. 
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 heardof torturing pain for them.  Tamo. 
What are they in this pit,  
Oh wondrous thing!  
How easily murder is discovered?  Tit. 
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 faults be proved in them.  King. 
If it be proved? you see it is apparent,  
Who found this Letter, Tamora was it you?  Tamora. 
Andronicus himself did take it up.  Tit. 
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.  King. 
Thou shalt not bail them, see thou follow me:  
Some bring the murdered 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.  Tamo. 
Andronicus I will entreat the King,  
Fear not thy Sons, they shall do well enough.  Tit. 
Come Lucius come,  
Stay not to talk with them.  Exeunt. Enter the Empress' Sons, with Lavinia, her hands cut off and her tongue cut out, and ravished. Deme. 
So now go tell and if thy tongue can speak,  
Who t' was that cut thy tongue and ravished thee.  Chi. 
Writ down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,  
And if thy stumps will let thee play the Scribe.  Dem. 
See how with signs and tokens she can scowl.  Chi. 
Go home,  
Call for sweet water, wash thy hands.  Dem. 
She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash.  
And so let's leave her to her silent walks.  Chi. 
And t' were my cause, I should go hang myself.  Dem. 
If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.  Exeunt. Wind Horns. Enter Marcus from hunting to Lavinia. 
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  
Hath lopped, and hewed, 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 half thy Love: Why dost not speak to me?  
Alas, a Crimson river of warm blood,  
Like to a bubbling fountain stirred 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 them, 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 their 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?  
Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beast  
That I might rail at him to ease my mind.  
Sorrow concealed, like an Oven stopped,  
Doth burn the hart to Cinders where it is.  
Fair Philomela she but lost her tongue,  
And in a tedious Sampler sowed her mind.  
But lovely Niece, that mean is cut from thee,  
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,  
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,  
That could have better sowed than Philomela.  
Oh 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 touched them for his life.  
Or had he heard the heavenly Harmony,  
Which that sweet tongue hath made:  
He would have dropped his knife and fell asleep,  
As Cerberus at the Thracian Poets feet.  
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind,  
For such a sight will blind a father's eye.  
One hours' 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:  
Oh could our mourning ease thy misery.  Exeunt  

Actus Tertius.  Enter the judges and Senators with Titus two sons bound, passing on the Stage to the place of execution, and Titus going before pleading. Ti. 
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 watched,  
And for these bitter tears, which now you see,  
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks,  
Be pitiful to my condemned Sons,  
Whose souls is not corrupted as 'tis thought:  
For two and twenty sons I never wept,  
Because they died in honours lofty bed.  Andronicus lieth down, and the judges pass by him. 
For these, Tribunes, in the dust I writ  
My hearts deep languor, and my souls sad tears:  
Let my tears staunch the earth's dry appetite.  
My son's sweet blood, will make it shame and blush:  
O earth! I will be friend thee more with rain  Exeunt 
That shall distil from these two ancient ruins,  
Then 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 erernall spring time on thy face,  
So thou refuse to drink my dear son's blood.  Enter Lucius, with his weapon drawn. 
Oh reverend Tribunes, oh 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.  Lu. 
Oh noble father, you lament in vain,  
The Tribunes hear not, no man is by,  
And you recount your sorrows to a stone.  Ti. 
Ah Lucius for thy brothers let me plead,  
Grave Tribunes, once more I entreat of you.  Lu. 
My gracious Lord, no Tribune hears you speak.  Ti. 
Why 'tis no matter man, if they did hear  
They would not mark me: oh if they did hear  
They would not pity me.  
Therefore I tell my sorrows bootless 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 as soft wax,  
Tribunes more hard than stones:  
A stone is silent, and offendeth not,  
And Tribunes with their tongue's doom men to death.  
But wherefore standest thou with thy weapon drawn?  Lu. 
To rescue my two brothers from their death,  
For which attempt the judges have pronounc'st  
My everlasting doom of banishment.  Ti. 
O happy man, they have befriended thee:  
Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive  
That Rome is but a wilderness of Tigers?  
Tiger's must pray, and Rome affords no prey  
But me and 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. Mar. 
Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep,  
Or if not so, thy noble heart to break:  
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.  Ti. 
Will it consume me? Let me see it then.  Mar. 
This was thy daughter.  Ti. 
Why Marcus so she is.  Luc. 
Ay me this object kills me.  Ti. 
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 cam'st,  
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, is but vain.  Luci. 
Speak gentle sister, who hath martyred thee?  Mar. 
O that delightful engine of her thoughts,  
That blabbed them with such pleasing eloquence,  
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,  
Where like a sweet mellodius bird it sung,  
Sweet varied notes enchanting every ear.  Luci. 
Oh say thou for her,  
Who hath done this deed?  Marc. 
Oh thus I found her straying in the Park,  
Seeking to hide herself as doth the Dear  
That hath received some unrecuring wound.  Tit. 
It was my Dear,  
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 martyred thee:  
Thy husband he is dead, and for his death  
Thy brothers are condemned, 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 gathered Lily almost withered.,  Mar. 
Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband,  
Perchance because she knows him innocent.  Ti. 
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 signs 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 stained in 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 devise of further miseries  
To make us wondered at in time to come.  Lu. 
Sweet Father cease your tears, for at your grief  
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.  Mar. 
Patience dear Niece, good Titus dry thine eyes.  Ti. 
Ah Marcus, Marcus, Brother well I wots,  
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine,  
For thou poor man hast drowned it with thine own.  Lu. 
Ah my Lavinia I will wipe thy cheeks.  Ti 
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 her true tears all be wet,  
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.  
Oh what a sympathy of woe is this!  
As fare from help as Limbo is from bliss,  Enter Aron the Moor alone. Moor. 
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.  Ti. 
Oh gracious Emperor, oh 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 Aron wilt thou help to chop it off?  Lu. 
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 then you,  
And therefore mine shall save my brother's lives.  Mar. 
Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,  
And reared aloft the bloody Battleaxe.  
Writing destruction on the enemy's Castle?  
Oh 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.  Moor. 
Nay come agree, whose hand shall go along  
For fear they die before their pardon come.  Mar. 
My hand shall go.  Lu. 
By heaven it shall not go.  Ti. 
Sirs strive no more, such withered herbs as these  
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.  Lu. 
Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy son,  
Let me redeem my brothers both from death.  Mar. 
And for our father's sake, and mother's care,  
Now let me show a brother's love to thee.  Ti. 
Agree between you, I will spare my hand.  Lu. 
Then I'll go fetch an Axe.  Mar. 
But I will use the Axe.  Exeunt Ti. 
Come hither Aaron, I'll deceive them both,  
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine,  Moor. 
If that be called 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.  He cuts of Titus hand. Enter Lucius and Marcus again. Ti. 
Now stay you strife, what shall be, is dispatched:  
Good Aron give his Majesty me 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 for my sons, say I account of them,  
As jewels purchased at an easy price,  
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.  Aron. 
I go Andronicus, and for thy hand,  
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee:  
Their heads I mean: Oh how this villainy  
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it.  
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,  
Aron will have his soul black like his face.  Exit. Ti. 
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: 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.  Mar. 
Oh brother speak with possibilities,  
And do not break into these deep extremes.  Ti. 
Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?  
Then be my passions bottomless with them.  Mar. 
But yet let reason govern thy lament.  Titus. 
If there were reason for these miseries,  
Then into limits could I bind my woes:  
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er flow?  
If the winds rage, doth not the Sea wax mad,  
Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?  
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?  
I am the Sea. Hark how her sighs do flow:  
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: overflowed and drowned:  
For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes,  
But like a drunkard must I vomit them:  
Then give me leave, for loser's will have leave,  
To ease their stomaches with their bitter tongues,  Enter a messenger with two heads and a hand. Mess. 
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 mocked,  
That woe is me to think upon thy woes,  
More than remembrance of my father's death.  Exit. Marc. 
Now let hot Aetna cool in Cicilie,  
And be my heart an everburning 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.  Luci. 
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 breath.  Mar. 
Alas poor hart that kiss is comfortless,  
As frozen water to a starved snake.  Titus. 
When will this fearful slumber have an end?  Mar. 
Now farewell flattery, die Andronicus,  
Thou dost not slumber, see thy two son's heads,  
Thy warlike hands, thy mangled daughter here:  
Thy other banished sons with this dear fight  
Struck pale and bloodless, and thy brother I,  
Even like a stony Image, cold and numb.  
Ah now no more will I control my 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. 
Ha', ha', ha',  Mar. 
Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.  Ti. 
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 Revenges 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 returned again,  
Even in their throats that have committed them.  
Come let me see what task I have to do,  
You heavy people, circled 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 will I bear.  
And Lavinia thou shalt be employed in these things:  
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. Manet Lucius. Luci. 
Farewell Andronicus my noble Father:  
The woeful'st man that ever lived in Rome:  
Farewell proud Rome, till Lucius come again,  
He love's his pledges dearer than his life:  
Farewell Lavinia my noble sister,  
O would thou wert as thou to fore hast been,  
But now, nor Lucius nor Lavinia life's  
But in oblivion and hateful griefs:  
If Lucius live, he will requited your wrongs,  
And make proud Saturnine and his Empress  
Beg at the gates likes Tarquin and his Queen.  
Now will I to the Goths and raise a power,  
To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine.  Exit Lucius A Bnaket. Enter Andronicus, Marcus, Lavinia, and the Boy. An. 
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,  
Wirh folded Arms. This poor right hand of mine,  
Is left to tirranize upon my breast.  
Who when my hart all mad with misery,  
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh,  
Then thus I thump it down.  
Thou Map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs,  
When thy poor hart beats without ragious 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 hart 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.  Mar. 
Fie brother fie, teach her not thus to lay  
Such violent hands upon her tender life.  An. 
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 too, and gentle girl eat this,  
here is no drink? Hark Marcus what she says,  
I can interpret all her martyred signs,  
She says, she drinks no other drink but tears  
Breued with her sorrow: meshed upon her cheeks,  
Speechless complaynet, 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 practice, learn to know thy meaning.  Boy. 
Good grandsire leave these bitter deep laments,  
Make my Aunt merry, with some pleasing tale.  Mar. 
Alas, the tender boy in passion moved,  
Doth weep to see his grandsires heaviness.  An. 
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 knife.  Mar. 
At that that I have killed my Lord, a Flies  An. 
Out on the murderour: thou kill'st my hart,  
Mine eyes cloyed with view of Tyranny:  
A deed of death done on the Innocent  
Becomes not Titus' broher: get thee gone,  
I see thou art not for my company.  Mar. 
Alas (my Lord) I have but killed a fly.  An. 
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 killed him.  Mar. 
Pardon me sir,  
It was a black illfauoured Fly,  
Like to the Empress Moor, therefore I killed him.  An. 
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's, as if it were the Moor,  
Come hither purposely to poison me.  
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamira: 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.  Mar. 
Alas poor man, grief has so wrought on him,  
He takes false shadows, for true substances.  An. 
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  

Actus Quartus.  Enter young Lucius and Lavinia running after him, and the Boy flies from her with his books under his arm. Enter Titus and Marcus. Boy. 
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.  Mar. 
Stand by me Lucius, do not fear thy Aunt.  Titus. 
She love's thee boy too well to do thee harm  Boy. 
I when my father was in Rome she did.  Mar. 
What means my Niece Lavinia by these signs?  Ti. 
Fear not Lucius, somewhat doth she mean:  
See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee:  
Some whether 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:  
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?  Boy. 
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 Hecubae of Troy,  
Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to fear,  
Although my Lord, I know my noble Aunt,  
Love's me as dear as ere 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.  Mar. 
Lucius I will.  Ti. 
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 skilled,  
Come and take choice of all my Library,  
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens  
Reveal the damned contriver of this deed.  
What book?  
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?  Mar. 
I think she means that there was more than one  
Confederate in the fact, I more there was:  
Or else to heaven she heaves them to revenge.  Ti. 
Lucius what book is that she tosseth so?  Boy. 
Grandsire 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis,  
My mother gave it me.  Mar. 
For love of her that's gone,  
Perhahs she could it from among the rest.  Ti. 
Soft, so busily she turns the leaves,  
Help her, what would she find? Lavinia shall I read?  
This is the tragic tale of Philomela?  
And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape,  
And rape I fear was root of thine annoy.  Mar. 
See brother see, note how she quotes the leaves  Ti. 
Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised sweet girl,  
Ravished and wronged as Philomela was?  
Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?  
See, see, I such a place there is where we did hunt,  
(O had we never, never hunted there)  
Paterned by that the Poet here describes,  
By nature made for murders and for rapes.  Mar. 
O why should nature build so foul a den,  
Unless the God's delight in tragedies?  Ti. 
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 ersts,  
That left the Camp to sin in Lucrece bed.  Mar. 
Sat 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.  He writes his Name with his staff, and guides it with feet and mouth. 
This sandy plot is plain, guide if thou canst  
This after me, I have writ my name,  
Without the help of any hand at all.  
Cursed be that hart that forced us to that shift:  
Writ thou good Niece, and here display at last,  
What God will have discovered 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. Ti. 
Oh do ye read my Lord what she hath writs?  
Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.  Mar. 
What, what, the lustful sons of Tamora,  
Performers of this heinous bloody deed?  Ti. 
Magni Dominator poli,  
Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides?  Mar. 
Oh 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 woeful Fear  
And father of that chaste dishonoured Dame,  
Lord junius Brutus swear 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.  Ti. 
'tis sure enough, and you knew how.  
But if you hunt these Beare-whelpes, then beware  
The Dam will wake, and if she wind you once,  
she's with the Lion deeply still in league.  
And julls him whilst she palyeth 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 Sibels leaves abroad,  
And where's your lesson then. Boy what say you?  Boy. 
I say my Lord, that if I were a man,  
Their mother's bedchamber should not be safe,  
For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.  Mar. 
I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft,  
For his ungrateful country done the like.  Boy. 
And Uncle so will I, and if I live.  Ti. 
Come go with me into mine Armoury,  
Lucius I'll fit thee, and withal, my boy  
Shall carry from me to the Empress' sons,  
Presents that I intent to send them both,  
Come, come, thou'st do thy message, wilt thou not?  Boy. 
I with my dagger in their bosom's Grandsire:  Ti. 
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,  
I marry will we sir, and we'll be waited on.  Exeunt. Mar. 
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 foeman's marks upon his battered shield,  
But yet so just, that he will not revenge,  
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus.  Exit Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius at one door: and at another door young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them. Chi. 
Demetrius here's the son of Lucius,  
He hath some message to deliver us.  Aron. 
I some mad message from his mad Grandfather.  Boy. 
My Lords, with all the humbleness I may,  
I greet your honours from Andronicus,  
And pray the Roman Gods confound you both.  Deme. 
Gramercy lovely Lucius, what's the news?  
For villanie's marked 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, when ever you have need,  
You may be armed and appointed well,  
And so I leave you both: like bloody villains.  Exit Deme. 
What's here? a scroll, & written round about?  
Let's see.  
Integer vitae scelerisque purus, non egit maury iaculis nec arcus.  Chi. 
O 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well.  
I read it in the Grammar long ago.  Moor. 
I just, a verse in Horace: right, you have it,  
Now what a thing it is to be an Ass?  
here's no sound jest, the old man hath found their guilt,  
And sends the weapons wrapped about with lines,  
That wound (beyond their feeling) to the quick:  
But were our witty Empress well a foot,  
She would applaud Andronicus conceit:  
But let her rest, in her unrest a while.  
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 brothers hearing.  Deme. 
But me more good, to see so great a Lord  
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts.  Moor. 
Had he not reason Lord Demetrius?  
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?  Deme. 
I would we had a thousand Roman Dames  
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.  Chi. 
A charitable wish, and full of love.  Moor. 
here lack's but you mother for to say, Amen.  Chi. 
And that would she for twenty thousand more.  Deme. 
Come, let us go, and pray to all the Gods  
For our beloved mother in her pains.  Moor. 
Pray to the devils, the gods have given us over.  Flourish. Dem. 
Why do the Emperor's trumpets flourish thus?  Chi. 
Belike for joy the Emperor hath a son.  Deme. 
Soft, who comes here?  Enter Nurse with a black a Moor child. Nur. 
Good morrow Lords:  
O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?  Aron. 
Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all,  
here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now?  Nurse. 
Oh gentle Aaron, we are all undone,  
Now help, or woe betid thee evermore.  Aron. 
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 delivered Lords, she is delivered.  Aron 
To whom?  Nurse. 
I mean she is brought a bed?  Aron. 
Well God give her good rest.  
What hath he sent her?  Nurse. 
A devil.  Aron. 
Why then she is the Devil's Dam: a joyful issue.  Nurse. 
A joyless, dismal, black &, 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 christian it with thy dagger's point.  Aron. 
Out you whore, is black so base a hue?  
Sweet blows, you are a beauteous blossom sure.  Deme. 
Villain what hast thou done?  Aron. 
That which thou canst not undo.  Chi. 
Thou hast undone our mother.  Deme. 
And therein hellish dog, thou hast undone,  
Woe to her chance, and damned her loathed choice,  
Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend.  Chi. 
It shall not live.  Aron. 
It shall not die.  Nurse. 
Aaron it must, the mother will it so.  Aron. 
What, must it Nurse? Then let no man but I  
Do execution on my flesh and blood.  Deme. 
I'll broach the Tadpole on my Rapier's point:  
Nurse give it me, my sword shall soon dispatch it.  Aron. 
Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up.  
Stay murderous villains, will you kill your brother?  
Now by the burning Tapers of the sky,  
That sh'one so brightly when this Boy was got,  
He dies upon my Semitars sharp point,  
That touches this my first borne son and heir.  
I tell you young-lings, not Enceladus  
With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood,  
Nor great Alcides, nor the God of war,  
Shall cease this prey out of his father's hands:  
What, what, ye sanguine shallow hearted Boys,  
Ye white-limbed 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 Swans 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.  Deme. 
Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?  Aron. 
My mistress is my mistress: this myself,  
The vigour, and the picture of my youth:  
This, before all the world do I prefer,  
This manger all the world will I keep safe,  
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.  Deme. 
By this our mother is for ever shamed.  Chi. 
Rome will despise her for this foul escape.  Nur. 
The Emperor in his rage will doom her death.  Chi. 
I blush to think upon this ignominy.  Aron. 
Why there's the privilege your beauty bears:  
Fie treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing  
The close enacts and counsels of the hart:  
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 imprisoned 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?  Dem. 
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.  Aron. 
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.  Deme. 
How many women saw this child of his?  Aron. 
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 at Aaron storms:  
But say again, how many saw the child?  Nurse. 
Cornelia, the midwife, and myself,  
And none else but the delivered Empress.  Aron. 
The Empress, the Midwife, and yourself,  
Two may keep counsel, when the the third's away:  
Go to the Empress, tell her this I said,  He kills her 
Week, week, so cries a Pig prepared to th' spit.  Deme. 
What meanest thou Aaron?  
Wherefore didst thou this?  Aron. 
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 fare, one Muliteus 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,  
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 Lady's tattle what they please.  Chi. 
Aaron I see thou wilt not ttust the air with secrets.  Deme. 
For this care of Tamora,  
Herself, and hers are highly bound to thee.  Exeunt. Aron. 
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-lipt-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 Campe.  Exit Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other gentlemen with bows, and Titus bears the arrows with Letters on the end of them. Tit. 
Come Marcus, come, kinsmen this is the way.  
Sir Boy let me see your Archery,  
Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there strait:  
Terras Astrea reliquit, be you remembered Marcus.  
She's gone, she's fled, sirs take you to your tools,  
You Cousins shall go sound the Ocean:  
And cast your nets, haply you may find 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 Mattocke, and with Spade,  
And pierce the inmost Centre of the earth:  
Then when you come to Plato'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 unsearched,  
This wicked Emperor may have shipped her hence,  
And kinsmen than we may go pipe for justice.  Marc. 
O Publius is not this a heavy case  
To see thy Noble Uncle thus distract?  Publ. 
Therefore my Lords it highly us concerns,  
By day and night t' attend him carefully:  
And feed his humour kindly as we may,  
Till time beget some careful remedy.  Marc. 
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.  Tit. 
Publius' how now? how now my Masters?  
What have you met with her?  Publ. 
No my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word,  
If you will have revenge from hell you shall,  
Marry for justice she is so employed,  
He thinks with jove in heaven, or some where else:  
So that perforce you must needs stay a time.  Tit. 
He doth me wrong to feed me with delays,  
I'll dive into the burning Lake below,  
And pull her out of Acaron by the heels.  
Marcus we are but shrubs, no Cedars we,  
No big-bon'd-men, framed of the Cyclops size,  
But mettle Marcus, steel to the very back,  
Yet wrung with wrongs more than our back 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 wongs:  
Come to this gear, you are a good Archer Marcus.  He gives them the Arrows. 
Ad jovem, that's for you: here ad Appollonem,  
Ad Martem, that's for myself,  
here Boy to Pallas, here to Mercury,  
To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine,  
You were as good to shoot against the wind.  
Too it Boy, Marcus lose when I bid:  
Of my word, I have written to effect,  
there's not a God left unsollicited.  Marc. 
Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court,  
We will afflict the Emperor in his pride.  Tit, 
Now Masters draw, Oh well said Lucius:  
Good Boy in Virgoes lap, give it Pallas.  Marc. 
My Lord, I aim a Mile beyond the Moon,  
Your letter is with jupiter by this.  Tit. 
Ha', ha', Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?  
See, see, thou hast, shot off one of Taurus' horns.  Mar. 
This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot,  
The Bull being galled, gave Aries such a knock,  
That down fell both the Rams horns in the Court,  
And who should find them but the Empress' villain:  
She laughed, and told the Moor he should not choose  
But give them to his Master for a present.  Tit. 
Why there it goes, God give your Lordship joy.  Enter the Clown with a basket and two Pigeons in it. Titus. 
News, news, from heaven,  
Marcus the post is come.  
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters?  
Shall I have justice, what says jupiter?  Clown. 
Ho the jibbetmaker, he says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.  Tit. 
But what says jupiter I ask thee?  Clown. 
Alas sir I know not jupiter:  
I never drank with him in all my life.  Tit. 
Why villain art not thou the Carrier?  Clown. 
I of my Pigeons sir, nothing else.  Tit. 
Why, didst thou not come from heaven?  Clown. 
From heaven? Alas sir, I never came there, God forbidden 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 emperials men.  Mar. 
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.  Tit. 
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.  Tit. 
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, mean while her's money for thy charges.  
Give me pen and ink.  
Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliver a Supplication?  Clown. 
I sir  Titus. 
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.  Tit. 
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.  Exit. Tit. 
Come Marcus let us go, Publius' follow me.  Exeunt. Enter Emperor and Empress, and her two sons, the Emperor brings the Arrows in his hand that Titus shot at him. Satur. 
Why Lords,  
What wrongs are these? was ever seen  
An Emperor in Rome thus overborne,  
Troubled, Confronted thus, and for the extent  
Of egg all justice, used in such contempt?  
My Lords, you know the mightful Gods,  
(How ever these disturbers of our peace  
Buz in the people's ears) there nought hath past,  
But even with law against the wilful Sons  
Of old Andronicus. And what and if  
His sorrows have so overwhelmed 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 life's  
In Saturninus health; whom if he sleep,  
he'll so awake, as he in fury shall  
Cut off the proudest Conspirator that life's.  Tamo. 
My gracious Lord, my lovely Saturnine,  
Lord of my life, Commander of my thoughts,  
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus age,  
Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant Sons,  
Whose loss hath pier'st him deep, and scared his heart;  
And rather comfort his distressed plight,  
Then prosecute the meanest or the best  
For these contempts. Why thus it shall become  
High witted Tamora to gloze with all:  Aside. 
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?  Clow. 
Yea forsooth, and your Mistership be Imperial.  Tam. 
Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor.  Clo. 
'Tis he; God & Saint Stephen give you good den;  
I have brought you a Letter, & a couple of Pigeons here.  He reads the Letter. Satu. 
Go take him away, and hang him presently.  Clown. 
How much money must I have?  Tam. 
Come sirrah you must be hanged.  Clow. 
Hanged? by'r Lady, than I have brought up a neck to a fair end.  Exit. Satu. 
Despiteful and intolerable wrongs,  
Shall I endure this monstrous villainy?  
I know from whence this same devise proceeds:  
May this be borne? As if his traitorous Sons,  
That died by law for murder of our Brother,  
Have by my means been butchered wrongfully?  
Go drag the villain hither by the hair,  
Nor Age, nor Honour, shall shape privilege:  
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughter man:  
Sly frantic wretch, that holpest to make me great,  
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.  Enter Nuntius Emillius. Satur. 
What news with thee Emillius?  Emil. 
Arm my Lords, Rome never had more cause,  
The Goths have gathered head, and with a power  
Of high resolved men, bend 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.  King. 
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:  
I, now gins our sorrows to approach,  
'Tis he the common people love so much,  
Myself hath often heard them say,  
(When I have walked like a private man)  
That Lucius banishment was wrongfully,  
And they have wished that Lucius were their Emperor.  Tam. 
Why should you fear? Is not our City strong?  King. 
I, but the Citizen's favour Lucius,  
And will revolt from me, to secure him.  Tam. 
King, be thy thoughts Imperious like thy name.  
Is the Sun dimmed, 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 mayest 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 rotten with delicious food.  King. 
But he will not entreat his Son for us.  Tam. 
If Tamora entreat him, than 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.  
Go thou before to our Ambassador,  
Say, that the Emperor requests a parley  
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting.  King. 
Emillius do this message Honourably,  
And if he stand in Hostage for his safety,  
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.  Emill. 
Your bidding shall I do effectually.  Exit. Tam. 
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.  Satu. 
Then go successantly and plead for him.  Exit.  

Actus Quintus.  Flourish. Enter Lucius with an Army of Goths, with Drum and Soldiers. Luci. 
Approved warriors, and my faithful Friends,  
I have received Letters from great Rome,  
Which signifies 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 scathe,  
Let him make triple satisfaction.  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:  
Behold in us, we'll follow where thou leadest,  
Like stinging Bees in hottest Summer's day,  
Led by their Master to the flowered fields,  
And be avenged on cursed Tamora:  
And as he saith, so say we all with him.  Luci. 
I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.  
But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?  Enter a Goes leading of Aaron with his child in his arms. Goth. 
Renowned Lucius, from our troops I strayed,  
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 controlled 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 cole-blacke-Calfe:  
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 dear for thy Mother's sake.  
With this, my weapon drawn I rushed upon him,  
Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither  
To use, as you think neeedefull of the man.  Luci. 
Oh worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil,  
That robbed 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, whether wouldst thou convey  
This growing Image of thy fiendlike 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.  Aron. 
Touch not the Boy, he is of Royal blood.  Luci. 
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.  Aron. 
Get me a Ladder 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.  Luci. 
Say on, and if it please me which thou speakest,  
Thy child shall live, and I will see it Nourished.  Aron. 
And 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 Blacke-night, abominable Deeds,  
Complots of Mischief, Treason, Villainies  
Ruthful to hear, yet piteously preformed,  
And this shall all be buried by my death,  
Unless thou swear to me my Child shall live.  Luci. 
Tell on thy mind,  
I say thy Child shall live.  Aron. 
Swear that he shall, and then I will begin.  Luci. 
Who should I swear by,  
Thou believest no God,  
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath?  Aron. 
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 so ere it be  
That thou adorest, and hast in reverence,  
To save my Boy, to nourish and bring him up,  
over else I will discover nought to thee.  Luci. 
Even by my God I swear to to thee I will.  Aron. 
First know thou,  
I be got him on the Empress.  Luci. 
Oh most Insatiate luxurious woman!  Aron. 
Tut Lucius, this was but a deed of Charity,  
To that which thou shalt hear of me anon,  
'Twas her two Sons that murdered Bassianus,  
They cut thy Sister's tongue, and ravished her,  
And cut her hands off, and trimmed her as thou saw'st.  Lucius. 
Oh detestable villain!  
Call'st thou that Trimming?  Aron. 
Why she was washed, and cut, and trimmed,  
And 'twas trim sport for them that had the doing of it.  Luci. 
Oh barbarous beastly villains like thyself!  Aron. 
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 learned of me,  
As true a Dog as ever fought at head.  
Well, let my Deeds be witness of my worth:  
I trained thy brethren to that guileful Hole,  
Where the dead Corpse of Bassianus lay:  
I wrote the Letter, that thy Father found,  
And hide the Gold within the Letter mentioned.  
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 played the Cheater for thy Father's hand,  
And when I had it, drew myself apart,  
And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter.  
I pried me through the Crevice of a Wall,  
When for his hand, he had his two Sons heads,  
Beheld his tears, and laughed so heartily,  
That both mine eyes were rainy like to his:  
And when I told the Empress of this sport,  
She sounded almost at my pleasing tale,  
And for my tidings, gave me twenty kisses.  Goth. 
What canst thou say all this, and never blush?  Aron. 
I, like a black Dog, as the saying is.  Luci. 
Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?  Aron. 
I, that I had not done a thousand more:  
Even now I curse the day, and yet I think  
Few come within few compass of my curse,  
Wherein I did not some Notorious ill,  
As kill a man, or else device 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 Cattles break their necks,  
Set fire on Barnes and Haystackes in the night,  
And bid the Owners quench them with the tears:  
Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves,  
And set them upright at their dear Friends door,  
Even when their sorrows almost was 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.  Luci. 
Bring down the devil, for he must not die  
So sweet a death as hanging presently.  Aron. 
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.  Luci. 
Sirs stop his mouth, & let him speak no more.  Enter Emillius. Goth. 
My Lord, there is a Messenger from Rome  
Desires to be admitted to your presence.  Luc. 
Let him come near.  
Welcome Emillius, what the news from Rome?  Emi. 
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 delivered.  Goth. 
What says our General?  Luc. 
Emillius, let the Emperor give his pledges  
Unto my Father, and my Uncle Marcus,  Flourish. 
And we will come I march away.  Exeunt. Enter Tamora, and her two Sons disguised. Tam. 
Thus in this strange and sad Habilliament,  
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 and Titus opens his study door. Tit. 
Who doth mollest my Contemplation?  
Is it your trick to make me open 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.  Tam. 
Titus, I am come to talk with thee,  Tit. 
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.  Tam. 
If thou didst know me,  
Thou wouldst talk with me.  Tit. 
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 trying 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?  Tamo. 
Know thou sad man, I am not Tamora,  
She is thy Enemy, and I thy Friend,  
I am Revenge sent from th' infernal Kingdom,  
To ease the gnawing Vulture of the mind,  
By working wreakful vengeance on my 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 offenders quake.  Tit. 
Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me,  
To be a torment to mine Enemies?  Tam. 
I am, therefore come down and welcome me.  Tit. 
Do me some service ere I come to thee:  
Lo by thy side where Rape and Murder stands,  
Now give 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 Globes.  
Provide thee two proper Palfreys, as black as jet,  
To hale thy vengeful Wagon swift away,  
And find out Murder in their guilty cares.  
And when thy Car is loaden with their heads,  
I will dismount, and by the Wagon wheel,  
Trot like a Servile footman all day long,  
Even from Eptons' 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.  Tam. 
These are my Ministers, and come with me.  Tit. 
Are them thy Ministers, what are they called?  Tam. 
Rape and Murder, therefore called so,  
Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.  Tit. 
Good Lord how like the Empress' Son? they are,  
And you the Empress: But we worldly men,  
Have miserable mad mistaking eyes:  
Oh sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee,  
And if one arms embracement will content thee,  
I will embrace thee in it by and by.  Tam. 
This closing with him, fits his Lunacy,  
What ere I forge to feed his brainsick 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 practice 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 play my theme.  Tit. 
Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee,  
Welcome dread Fury to my woeful 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,  
Can 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?  Tam. 
What wouldst thou have us do Andronicus?  Dem. 
Show me a Murderer, I'll deal with him.  Chi. 
Show me a Villain that hath done a Rape,  
And I am sent to be revenged on him.  Tam. 
Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong,  
And I'll be revenged on them all.  Tit. 
Look round about the wicked streets of Rome,  
And when thou findest 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 is 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.  Tam. 
Well hast thou lessoned 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 shall they stoop, and kneel,  
And on them shalt thou ease, thy angry heart:  
What says Andronicus to this devise?  Enter Marcus. Tit. 
Marcus my Brother, 'tis sad Titus calls,  
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,  
Feasts 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.  Mar. 
This will I do, and soon return again.  Tam. 
Now will I hence about thy business,  
And take my Ministers along with me.  Tit. 
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.  Tam. 
What say you Boys, will you bide with him,  
Whiles I go tell my Lord the Emperor,  
How I have governed our determined jest?  
Yield to his Humour, smooth and speak him fair,  
And tarry with him till I turn again.  Tit. 
I know them all, though they suppose me mad,  
And will o'erreach them in their own devices,  
A pair of cursed hellhounds and their Dam.  Dem. 
Madam depart at pleasure, leave us here.  Tam. 
Farewell Andronicus, revenge now goes  
To lay a complot to betray thy Foes.  Tit. 
I know thou dost, and sweet revenge farewell.  Chi. 
Tell us old man, how shall we be employed?  Tit. 
Tut, I have work enough for you to do,  
Publius come hither, Caius, and Valentine.  Pub. 
What is your will?  Tit. 
Know you these two?  Pub. 
The Empress' Sons  
I take them, Chiron, Demetrius.  Titus. 
Fie Publius, fie, thou art too much deceived,  
The one is Murder, Rape is the others 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,  Chi. 
Villains forbear, we are the Empress Sons.  Pub. 
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.  Exeunt. Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lavinia with a Basin. Tit. 
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.  
Oh Villains, Chiron, and Demetrius',  
Here stands the spring whom you have stained with mud,  
This goodly Summer with your Winter mixed,  
You killed her husband, and for that vild fault,  
Two of her Brothers were condemned 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 constrained 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 grinned 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 unhallowed Dam,  
Like to the earth swallow her increase.  
This is the Feast, that I have bid her to,  
And this the Banquet she shall surfeit on,  
For worse than Philomela you used my Daughter,  
And worse than Progne, I will be revenged,  
And now prepare your throats: Lavinia come.  
Receive the blood, and when that they are dead,  
Let me go grinned their Bones to powder small,  
And with this hateful Liquor temper it,  
And in that Paste let their vild Heads be baked,  
Come, come, be every one officious,  
To make this Banquet, which I wish might prove,  
More stern and bloody than the Centaur's Feast.  He cuts their throats. 
So now bring them in, for I'll play the Cook,  
And see them ready, 'gainst their Mother comes.  Exeunt. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Goths. Luc. 
Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my Father's mind  
That I repair to Rome, I am content.  Goth. 
And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will.  Luc. 
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 Emperors face,  
For testimony of her foul proceed.  
And see the Ambush of our Friends be strong,  
If ere the Emperor means no good to us.  Aron. 
Some devil whisper curses in my ear,  
And prompt me that my tongue may utter forth,  
The Venomous Malice of my swelling heart.  Luc. 
Away Inhuman Dog, Unhallowed Slave,  
Sirs, help our Uncle, to convey him in,  Flourish. 
The Trumpets show the Emperor is at hand.  Sound Trumpet's. Enter Emperor and Empress, with Tribunes and others. Sat. 
What, hath the Firemament more Suns than one?  Luc. 
What boots it thee to call thyself a Sun?  Mar. 
Rome's Emperor & Nephew break the parley  
These quarrels must be quietly debated,  
The Feast is ready which the careful Titus,  
Hath ordained to an Honourable end,  
For Peace, for Love, for League, and good to Rome:  
Please you therefore draw nigh and take your places.  Satur. 
Marcus we will.  Oboes. A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the meat on the Table, and Lavinia with a vale over her face. Titus. 
Welcome my gracious Lord,  
Welcome Dread Queen,  
Welcome ye Warlike Goths, welcome Lucius,  
And welcome all: although the cheer be poor,  
'Twill fill your stomaches, please you eat of it.  Sat. 
Why art thou thus attired Andronicus?  Tit. 
Because I would be sure to have all well,  
To entertain your Highness, and your Empress.  Tam. 
We are beholding to you good Andronicus?  Tit. 
And 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 enfor'st, stained, and deflowered?  Satur. 
It was Andronicus.  Tit. 
Your reason, Mighty Lord?  Sat. 
Because the Girl, should not suruine her shame,  
And by her presence still renew his sorrows.  Tit. 
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,  
And with thy shame, thy Father's sorrow die.  He kills her. Sat. 
What hast done, unnatural and unkind?  Tit. 
Killed her for whom my tears have made me blind.  
I am as woeful as Virginius was,  
And have a thousand times more cause than he.  Sat. 
What was she ravished? tell who did the deed,  Tit. 
Wilt please you eat,  
Wilt please your Highness feed?  Tam. 
Why hast thou slain thine only Daughter?  Titus. 
Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius,  
They ravished her, and cut away her tongue,  
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.  Satu. 
Go fetch them hither to us presently.  Tit. 
Why there they are both, baked in that Pie,  
Whereof their Mother dantily hath fed,  
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.  
'Tis true, 'tis true, witness my knives sharp point.  He stabs the Empress. Satu. 
Die frantic wretch, for this accursed deed.  Luc. 
Can the Son's eye, behold his Father bleed?  
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed.  Mar. 
You sad faced men, people and Sons of Rome,  
By uproars severed like a flight of Fowl,  
Scattered by winds and high tempestuous gusts:  
Oh let me teach you how, to knit again  
This scattered Corn, into one mutual sheaf,  
These broken limbs again into one body.  Goth. 
Let Rome herself be bane unto herself,  
And she whom mighty kingdom's curtsy too,  
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,  
Speak Rome's dear friend, as ' erst our Ancestor,  
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse  
To lovesick 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 bewitched 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 very uttrance, even in the time  
When it should move you to attend me most,  
Lending your kind hand Commiseration.  
here is a Captain, let him tell the tale,  
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.  Luc. 
This 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 cozened,  
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 turned weeping out,  
To beg relief among Rome's Enemies,  
Who drowned their enmity in my true tears,  
And opened their arms to embrace me as a Friend:  
And I am 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, me thinks I do digress too much,  
Citing my worthless praise: Oh pardon me,  
For when no Friends are by, men praise themselves,  Marc. 
Now is my turn to speak: Behold this Child,  
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 course 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 Andronicuses,  
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.  Emilli. 
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.  Mar. 
Lucius, all hail Rome's Royal Emperor,  
Go, go into old Titus sorrowful house,  
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,  
To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death,  
As punishment for his most wicked life.  
Lucius all hail to Rome's gracious Governor.  Luc. 
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:  
Oh take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,  
These sorrowful drops upon thy bloud-slaine face,  
The last true Duties of thy Noble Son.  Mar. 
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.  Luc. 
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 Wo.  
Bid him farewell, commit him to the Grave,  
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.  Boy. 
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 open my mouth.  Romans. 
You sad Andronicuses, have done with woes,  
Give sentence on this execrable Wretch,  
That hath been breeder of these dire events.  Luc. 
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 fastened in the earth.  Aron. 
O why should wrath be mute, & 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 Emp. hence,  
And give him burial in his Father's grave.  
My Father, and Lavinia, shall forthwith  
Be closed in our Households' Monument:  
As for that heinous Tiger Tamora,  
No Funeral Rite, nor man in mournful Weeds:  
No mournful Bell shall ring her Burial:  
But throw her forth to Beasts and Birds of prey:  
Her life was Beastlike, and devoid of pity,  
And being so, shall have like want of pity.  
See justice done on Aaron that damned Moor,  
From whom, our heavy haps had their beginning:  
Then afterwards, to Order well the State,  
That like Events, may ne'er it Ruinated.  Exeunt omnes.  
FINIS.   

THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO and JULIET.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Samson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of Capulet. Samson. 
GRegory: A my word we'll not carry coals.  Greg. 
No, for than we should be Collier's.  Samp. 
I mean, if we be in choler, we'll draw.  Greg. 
I, While you live, draw your neck out o' th' Collar.  Samp. 
I strike quickly, being moved.  Greg. 
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.  Samp. 
A dog of the house of Montague, moves me.  Greg. 
To move, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand:  
Therefore, if thou art moved, thou run'st away.  Samp. 
A dog of that house shall move me to stand.  
I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues'.  Greg. 
That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall.  Samp. 
True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Mountagues' men from the wall, and thrust his Maids to the wall.  Greg. 
The Quarrel is between our Masters, and us their men.  Samp. 
'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be civil with the Maids, and cut off their heads.  Greg. 
The heads of the Maids?  Sam. 
I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maidenheads,  
Take it in what sense thou wilt.  Greg. 
They must take it sense, that feel it▪  Samp. 
Me they shall feel while I am able to stand:  
And 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.  Greg. 
'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou hadst, thou hadst been poor john. Draw thy Tool, here comes of the House of the Mountagues'.  Enter two other Servingmen. Sam. 
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee  Gre. 
How? Turn thy back, and run.  Sam. 
Fear me not.  Gre. 
No marry: I fear thee.  Sam. 
Let us take the Law of our sides▪ let them begin.  Gr. 
I will frown as I pass by, & let them take it as they list  Sam. 
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my Thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.  Abra. 
Do you bite your Thumb at us sir?  Samp. 
I do bite my Thumb, sir.  Abra. 
Do you bite your Thumb at us, sir?  Sam. 
Is the Law of our side, if I say I?  Gre. 
No.  Sam, 
No sir, I do not bite my Thumb at you sir: but I bite my Thumb sir.  Greg. 
Do you quarrel sir?  Abra. 
Quarrel sir? no sir.  Sam. 
If you do sir, I am for you, I serve as good a man as you  Abra. 
No better?  Samp. 
Well sir.  Enter Benuolio. Gr. 
Say better: here comes one of my master's kinsmen.  Samp. 
Yes, better.  Abra. 
You Lye.  Samp. 
Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.  They Fight. Ben. 
Part Fools, put up your Swords, you know not what you do.  Enter Tibalt. Tyb. 
What art thou drawn, among these heartless Hinds? Turn thee Benuolio, look upon thy death.  Ben. 
I do but keep the peace, put up thy Sword,  
Or manage it to part these men with me.  Tyb. 
What draw, and talk of peace? I hate the word  
As I hate hell, all Mountagues', and thee:  
Have at thee Coward.  Fight. Enter three or four Citizens with Clubs. Offi. 
Clubs, Bills, and Partisons, strike, beat them down  
down with the Capulets, down with the Mountagues'.  Enter old Capulet in his Gown and his wife. Cap. 
What noise is this? Give me my long Sword ho.  Wife. 
A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?  Cap. 
My Sword I say: Old Montague is come,  
And flourishes his Blade in spite of me.  Enter old Montague, & his wife. Moun. 
Thou villain▪ Capulet. Hold me not, let me go  2. Wife. 
Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a Foe.  Enter Prince Eskalos, with his Train. Prince. 
Rebellious Subjects, Enemies to peace,  
Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele,  
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 mistempered Weapons to the ground,  
And hear the Sentence of your moved Prince.  
Three civil Broils, bred of an Eyrie word,  
By thee old Capulet and Montague,  
Have thrice disturbed 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,  
Cankered with peace, to part your Cankered 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 Father's pleasure in this case:  
To old Freetowne, our common judgement place:  
Once more on pain of death, all men departed.  Exeunt. Moun. 
Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?  
Speak Nephew, were you by, when it began:  Ben. 
here were the servants of your adversary,  
And yours close fight ere I did approach,  
I drew to part them, in the instant came  
The fiery Tibalt, 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, hist 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.  Wife. 
O where is Romeo, saw you him to day?  
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.  Ben. 
Madam, an hour before the worshipped Sun  
Peered forth the golden window of the East,  
A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad,  
Where underneath the grove of Sycamour,  
That Westward rooteth from this City 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,  
Which then most sought, where most might not be found:  
Being one too many by my weary self,  
Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his  
And gladly shunned, who gladly fled from me.  Mount. 
Many a morning hath he there been seen,  
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,  
Adding to clouds, more clouds with his deep sighs,  
But all so soon as the all-cheering Sun,  
Should in the farthest East begin to draw  
The shady Curtains from Aurora's bed,  
Away from light-steales home my heavy Son,  
And private in his Chamber pens himself,  
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,  
And makes himself an artificial night:  
Black and portendous must this humour prove,  
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.  Ben. 
My Noble Uncle do you know the cause?  Moun. 
I neither know it, nor can learn of him.  Ben. 
Have you importuned him by any means?  Moun. 
Both by myself and many others 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 fare 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 same.  
Can we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,  
We would as willingly give cure, as know.  Enter Romeo. Ben 
See where he comes, so please you step aside,  
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.  Moun. 
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,  
To hear true shrift. Come Madam let's away.  Exeunt. Ben. 
Good morrow Cousin.  Rom. 
Is the day so young?  Ben. 
But new strooke nine.  Rom. 
Ay me, sad hours seem long:  
Was that my Father that went henec so fast?  Ben. 
It was: what sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?  Ro. 
Not having that, which having, makes them short  Ben. 
In love.  Romeo. 
Out.  Ben. 
Of love.  Rom. 
Out of her favour where I am in love.  Ben. 
Alas that love so gentle in his view,  
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.  Rom. 
Alas that love, whose view is muffled still,  
Should without eyes, see path-ways 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 created:  
O heavy lightness, serious vanity,  
misshapen Chaos of welseeing 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?  Ben. 
No Cousin, I rather weep.  Rom. 
Good heart, at what?  Ben. 
At thy good hearts oppression.  Rom. 
Why such is love's transgression.  
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,  
Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed  
With more of thine, this love that thou hast shown,  
Doth add more grief, to too much of mine own.  
Love, is a smoke made with the fume of sighs,  
Being purged, a fire sparkling in Lover's eyes,  
Being vexed, a Sea nourished with loving tears,  
What is it else? a madness, most discreet,  
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet:  
Farewell my Cousin.  Ben. 
Soft I will go along.  
And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.  Rom. 
Tut I have lost myself, I am not here,  
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.  Ben. 
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love?  Rom. 
What shall I groan and tell thee?  Ben. 
Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who.  Rom. 
A sick man in sadness makes his will:  
A word ill urged to one that is so ill:  
In sadness Cousin, I do love a woman.  Ben. 
I aimed so near, when I supposed you loved.  Rom. 
A right good mark man, and she's fair I love  Ben. 
A right fair mark, fair Cousin, is soon hit.  Rom. 
Well in that hit you miss, she'll not be hit  
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Diane's wit:  
And in strong proof of chastity well armed:  
From love's weak childish Bow, she life's vncharmed.  
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,  
Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes.  
Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold:  
O she is rich in beauty, only poor,  
That when she dies, with beauty dies her store.  Ben. 
Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste?  Rom. 
She hath, and in that sparing make huge waist?  
For beauty starved with her severity,  
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.  
She is too fair, too wisewi: silly 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.  Ben. 
Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.  Rom. 
O teach me how I should forget to think.  Ben. 
By giving liberty unto thine eyes,  
Examine other beauties,  Ro. 
'Tis the way to call hers (exquisite) in question more,  
These happy masks that kiss fair Ladies brows,  
Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair:  
He that is strooken 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 past that passing fair.  
Farewell thou canst not teach me to forget,  Ben. 
I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.  Exeunt Enter Capulet, County Paris, and the Clown. Capu. 
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.  Par. 
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?  Capu. 
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 whither in their pride,  
Ere we may think her ripe to be a Bride.  Pari. 
Younger than she, are happy mothers made.  Capu. 
And too soon marred are those so early made:  
Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,  
she's the hopeful Lady of my earth:  
But woo her gentle Paris, get her heart,  
My will to her consent, is but a part,  
And she agree, within her scope of choice,  
Lies my consent, and fair according voice:  
This night I hold an old accustomed 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 apparelled April on the heel  
Of limping Winter treads, even such delight  
Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night  
Inherit at my house: hear all, all see:  
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:  
Which one more view, of many, mine being one,  
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.  
Come, go with me: 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.  Exit. Ser. 
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 writ, & can never find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time.  Enter Benuolio, and Romeo. Ben. 
Tut man, one fire burns out another's burning,  
One pai●e is lessened 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 the eye,  
And the rank poison of the old will die.  Rom. 
Your Plantain leaf is excellent for that.  Ben. 
For what I pray thee?  Rom. 
For your broken shin.  Ben. 
Why Romeo art thou mad?  Rom. 
Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is:  
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,  
Whipped and tormented: and God-den good fellow,  Ser. 
Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read?  Rom. 
I mine own fortune in my misery.  Ser. 
Perhaps you have learned it without book:  
But I pray can you read any thing you see?  Rom. 
I, if I know the Letters and the Language.  Ser. 
Ye say honestly, rest you merry.  Rom. 
Stay fellow, I can read.  He reads the Letter. SEigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Ans: elm and his beauteous sisters: the Lady widow of Vtrwio, Seigneur Placentio, and his lovely Nieces: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine uncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my fair Niece Rosaline, Livia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cousin Tybalt: Lucio and the lively Helena. 
A fair assembly, whither should they come?  Ser. 
Vp.  Rom. 
Whither? to supper?  Ser. 
To our house.  Rom. 
Whose house?  Ser. 
My Masters.  Rom. 
Indeed I should have asked you that before.  Ser. 
Now I'll tell you without ask. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues' I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.  Exit. Ben. 
At this same ancient Feast of Capulets  
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so love's:  
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.  Rom. 
When the devout religion of mine eye  
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire:  
And these who often drowned could never die,  
Transparent Heretics be burnt for liars.  
One fairer than my love: the allseeing Sun  
Near saw her match, since first the world begun.  Ben. 
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,  
Herself poised with herself in either eye:  
But in that crystal scales, let there be weighed,  
Your Lady's love against some other Maid  
That I will show you, shining at this Feast,  
And she show scant shell, well, that now shows best.  Rom. 
I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,  
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.  Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse. Wife 
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 Ladi-bird, God forbidden,  
Where's this Girl? what juliet?  Enter juliet. juliet. 
How now, who calls?  Nur. 
Your Mother.  juliet. 
Madam I am here, what is your will?  Wife. 
This is the matter: Nurse give leave awhile, we must talk in secret. Nurse come back again, I have remembered me, thou'se hear our counsel. Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age.  Nurse. 
Faith I can tell her age unto an hour.  Wife. 
she's not fourteen.  Nurse. 
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,  
And yet to my teen be it spoken,  
I have but four, she's not fourteen.  
How long is it now to Lammas tied?  Wife. 
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 & 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 Lamas 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 weaned 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 Dovehouse 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 teachie, 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 a eleven years, for than she could stand alone, nay bi' th' rood she could have run, & wadled all about: for even the day before she broke her brow, & 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 halidom, the pretty wretch left crying, & said I: to see now how a jest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall live a thousand years, I never should forget it: wilt thou not julet quoth he? and pretty fool it stinted, and said I.  Old La. 
Enough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.  Nurse. 
Yes Madam, yet I cannot choose but laugh, to think it should leave crying, & say I: and yet I warrant it had upon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockerels stone? A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fallest upon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age: wilt thou not jule? It stinted: and said I.  jule. 
And stint thou too. I pray thee Nurse, say I.  Nur. 
Peace I have done: God mark thee too his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nursed, and I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.  Old La. 
Marry that marry is the very theme  
I came to talk of, tell me daughter juliet,  
How stands your disposition to be Married?  juli. 
It is an hour that I dream not of.  Nur. 
An hour, were not I thine only Nurse, I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat.  Old La. 
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.  Old La. 
Veronas Summer hath not such a flower.  Nurse. 
Nay he's a flower, infaith a very flower.  Old La: 
What say you, can you love the Gentleman?  
This night you shall behold him at our Feast,  
Read over the volume of young Paris face,  
And find delight, writ there with Beauty's pen:  
Examine every several liniament,  
And see how one another lends content:  
And what obscured in this fair volume lies,  
Find written in the Margin of his eyes▪  
This precious Book of Love, this unbound Lover,  
To Beautify him, only lacks a Cover.  
The fish life's in the Sea, and 'tis much pride  
For fair without, the fair within to hide:  
That Book in manies 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.  Old La. 
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris love?  juli. 
I'll look to like, if looking liking move.  
But no more deep will I endart mine eye,  
Then your consent gives strength to make fly.  Enter a Serving man. Ser. 
Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young Lady asked for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, and every thing in extremity: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow strait.  Exit. Mo. 
We follow thee, juliet, the County stays.  Nurse. 
Go Girl, seek happy nights to happy days.  Exeunt. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with five or six other Maskers, Torchbearers. Rom. 
What shall this speeh be spoke for our excuse?  
Or shall we on without Apology?  Ben. 
The date is out of such prolixity,  
we'll have no Cupid, hood winked with a scarf,  
Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath,  
Scaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.  
But let them measure us by what they will,  
we'll measure them a Measure, and be gone.  Rom. 
Give me a Torch, I am not for this ambling.  
Being but heavy I will bear the light.  Mer. 
Nay gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.  Rom. 
Not I believe me, you have dancing shoes  
With nimble soles, I have a sole of Lead  
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.  Mer. 
You are a Lover, borrow Cupid's wings,  
And soar with them above a common bound.  Rom. 
I am too sore enpearced with his shaft,  
To soar with his light feathers, and to bond:  
I cannot bond a pitch above dull woe,  
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.  Hora. 
And to sink in it should you burden love,  
Too great oppression for a tender thing.  Rom. 
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,  
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.  Mer. 
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.  Ben. 
Come knock and enter, and no sooner in,  
But every man betake him to his legs.  Rom. 
A Torch for me, let wantoness light of heart  
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels:  
For I am prouerbed with a Grandsire Phrase,  
I'll be a Candleholder and look on,  
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.  Mer. 
Tut, dun the Mouse, the Constables own word,  
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire.  
Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest  
up to the ears, come we burn daylight ho.  Rom. 
Nay that's not so.  Mer. 
I mean sir I delay,  
We wast our lights in vain, lights, lights, by day;  
Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits  
Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits.  Rom. 
And we mean well in going to this Mask,  
But 'tis no wit to go.  Mer. 
Why may one ask?  Rom. 
I dreamt a dream to night.  Mer. 
And so did I.  Rom. 
Well what was yours?  Mer. 
That dreamers often lie.  Ro. 
In bed a sleep while they do dream things true.  Mer. 
O than I see Queen Mab hath been with you: She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no bigger than Agatstone, on the forefinger of an Alderman, drawn with a team of little Atoms, over men's noses as they lie asleep: her Wagon Spokes made of long Spinner's legs: the Cover of the wings of Grasshoppers, her Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her colours of the Moonshines watery Beams, her Whip of Crickets bone, the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated Gnat, not half so big as a round little Worm, pricked from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an empty Haselnut, made by the joiner Squirrel or old Grub, time out a mind, the Fairies Coach-makers: & in this state she gallops night by night, through Lover's brains: and then they dream of Love.. On Courtier's knees, that dream on Curtsies straight: o'er Lawyer's fingers, who straight dreamt on Fees, o'er Lady's lips, who straight on kisses dream, which oft a'the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gallops over a Courtier's nose, & then dreams he of smelling out asute: & sometime comes she with tithe pig's tale, tickling a Parson's nose as a lies asleep, than he dreams of another Benefice. Sometime she driveth over a Soldier's neck, & then dreams he of cutting Foreign throats, of Breaches, Ambuscadoes, Spanish Blades: Of Healths five Fathom deep, and then anon drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes; and being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two & sleeps again: this is that very Mab that plaits the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elk-locks 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.  Rom. 
Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,  
Thou talk'st of nothing.  Mer. 
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 woos  
Even now the frozen bosom of the North:  
And being angered, puffs away from thence,  
Turning his side to the dew dropping South.  Ben. 
This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves,  
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.  Rom. 
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 stirrage of my course,  
Direct my suit: on lusty Gentlemen.  Ben. 
Strike Drum.  They march about the Stage, and Servingmen come forth with their napkins. Enter Servant. Ser. 
Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away?  
He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?  1. 
When good manners, shall lie in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.  Ser. 
Away with the joynstooles, remove the Court-cubbord, 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, Anthony and Potpan.  2. 
I Boy ready.  Ser. 
You are looked for, and called for, asked for, & sought for, in the great Chamber.  1 
We cannot be here and there too, cheerly Boys,  
Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.  Exeunt. Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. 1. Capu. 
Welcome Gentlemen,  
Ladies that have their toes  
Unplagued with Corns, will walk about with you:  
Ah 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:  Music plays: and the dance. 
A Hall, Hall, give room, and foot it Girls,  
More light you knaves, and turn the Tables up:  
And quench the fire, the Room is grown too hot.  
Ah sirrah, this unlooked 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?  2. Capu. 
Berlady thirty years.  1. Capu. 
What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much,  
'Tis since the Nuptial of Lucentio,  
Come Pentycost as quickly as it will,  
Some five and twenty years, and then we Masked.  2. Cap. 
'Tis more, 'tis more, his Son is elder sir:  
His Son is thirty.  3. Cap. 
Will you tell me that?  
His Son was but a Ward two years ago.  Rom. 
What Lady is that which dothni rich the hand  
Of yonder Knight?  Ser. 
I know not sir.  Rom. 
O she doth teach the Torches to burn bright:  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night,  
As a rich jewel in an Aethiops ear:  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear:  
So shows a Snowy Dove trooping with Crows,  
As yonder Lady o'er her fellow's 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 never saw true Beauty till this night.  Tib. 
This by his voice, should be a Montague.  
Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slave  
Come hither covered with an antique 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.  Cap. 
Why how now kinsman,  
Wherefore storm you so?  Tib. 
Uncle this is a Montague, our foe:  
A Villain that is hither come in spite,  
To scorn at our Solemnity this night.  Cap. 
Young Romeo is it?  Tib. 
'Tis he, that Villain Romeo.  Cap. 
Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone,  
A bears him like a portly Gentleman:  
And to say truth, Verona brags of him,  
To be a virtuous and well governed youth:  
I would not for the wealth of all the town,  
Here in my house do him disparagement:  
Therefore be patiented, take no note of him,  
It is my will, the which if thou respect,  
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,  
An ill beseeming semblance for a Feast.  Tib. 
It fits when such a Villain is a guest,  
I'll not endure him.  Cap. 
He shall be endu'rd.  
What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too,  
Am I the Master here or you? go too,  
You'll not endure him, God shall mend my soul,  
You'll make a Mutiny among the Guests:  
You will set cock a hoop, you'll be the man.  Tib. 
Why Uncle, 'tis a shame.  Cap. 
Go too, go too,  
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.  Tib. 
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. Rom. 
If I profane with my unworthiest hand,  
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,  
My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand,  
To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kiss.  jul. 
Good Pilgrim,  
You do wrong your hand too much.  
Which mannerly devotion shows in this,  
For Saints have hands, that Pilgrim's hands do touch,  
And palm to palm, is holy Palmer's kiss.  Rom. 
Have not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?  jul. 
I Pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.  Rom. 
O then dear Saint, let lips do what hands do,  
They pray (grant thou) lest faith turn to despair.  jul. 
Saints do not move,  
Though grant for prayers sake.  Rom. 
Then move not while my prayers effect I take:  
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged.  jul. 
Then have my lips the sin that they have taken.  Rom. 
Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged:  
Give me my sin again.  jul. 
You kiss by ' th' book.  Nur. 
Madam your Mother craves a word with you.  Rom. 
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 talked withal:  
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her,  
Shall have the chinks.  Rom. 
Is she a Capulet?  
O dear account! My life is my foes debt.  Ben. 
Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.  Rom. 
I so I fear, the more is my unrest.  Cap. 
Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone,  
We have a trifling foolish Banquet towards:  
Is it e'en so? why than 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 faith it waxes late,  
I'll to my rest.  juli. 
Come hither Nurse,  
What is yond Gentleman:  Nur. 
The Son and Heir of old Tiberio.  juli. 
What's he that now is going out of door?  Nur. 
Marry that I think be young Petruchio.  jul. 
What's he that follows here that would not dance?  Nur. 
I know not.  jul. 
Go ask his name: if he be married,  
My grave is like to be my wedded bed.  Nur. 
His name is Romeo, and a Montague,  
The only Son of your great Enemy.  jul. 
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.  Nur. 
What's this? what's this?  jul. 
A rhyme, I learn even now  
Of one I danced withal.  One calls within, juliet. Nur. 
Anon, anon:  
Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.  Exeunt. Chorus. 
Now old desire doth in his death bed lie,  
And young affection gapes to be his Heir,  
That fair, for which Love groaned for and would die,  
With tender juliet matched, is now not fair.  
Now Romeo is beloved, and Love's again,  
A like bewitched by the charm of looks:  
But to his foe supposed he must complain,  
And she steal Loves 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.  Enter Romeo alone. Rom. 
Can I go forward when my heart is here?  
Turn back dull earth, and find thy Centre out.  Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio. Ben. 
Romeo, my Cousin Romeo, Romeo.  Merc. 
He is wise,  
And on my life hath stolen him home to bed.  Ben. 
He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall.  
Call good Mercutio:  
Nay, I'll conjure too.  Mer. 
Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Lover,  
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,  
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied:  
Cry me but ay me, Provant, but Love and day,  
Speak to my goship Venus one fair word,  
One Nickname for her purblind Son and her,  
Young Abraham Cupid he that shot so true,  
When King Cophetua loved the beggar Maid,  
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not,  
The Ape is dead, I must conjure him,  
I conjure thee by Rosalines' bright eyes,  
By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip,  
By her Fine foot, Strait leg, and Quivering thigh,  
And the Demeans, that there Adjacent lie,  
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.  Ben. 
And if he hear thee thou wilt anger him.  Mer. 
This cannot anger him, t' would anger him  
To raise a spirit in his Mistress circle,  
Of some strange nature, letting it stand  
Till she had laid it, and conjured it down,  
That were some spite.  
My invocation is fair and honest, & in his Mistress name,  
I conjure only but to raise up him.  Ben. 
Come, he hath hid himself among these Trees  
To be consorted with the Humorous night:  
Blind is his Love, and best befits the dark.  Mer. 
If Love be blind, Love cannot hit the mark,  
Now will he sit under a Medler tree,  
And wish his Mistress were that kind of Fruit,  
As Maids call Meddlers when they laugh alone,  
O Romeo that she were, O that she were  
An open, or thou a Poprin Pear,  
Romeo good-night, I'll to my Truckle bed,  
This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleep,  
Come shall we go?  Ben. 
Go then, for 'tis in vain to seek him here  
That means not to be found.  Exeunt. Rom. 
He jests at Scars that never felt a wound,  
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 eye 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.  jul. 
Ay me.  Rom. 
She speaks.  
Oh 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 puffing Clouds,  
And sails upon the bosom of the air.  jul. 
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.  Rom. 
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?  Iu. 
'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, O be some other name  
Belonging to a man.  
What? in a names that which we call a Rose,  
By any other word would smell as sweet,  
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,  
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,  
Without that title Romeo, doff thy name,  
And for thy name which is no part of thee,  
Take all myself.  Rom. 
I take thee at thy word:  
Call me but Love, and I'll be new baptised,  
Hence forth I never will be Romeo.  juli. 
What man art thou, that thus bescreened in night  
So stumblest on my counsel?  Rom. 
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.  juli. 
My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words  
Of thy tongues uttering, yet I know the sound.  
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?  Rom. 
Neither fair Maid, if either thee dislike.  jul. 
How cam'st 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,  Rom. 
With Love's light wings  
Did I ore-perch these Walls,  
For stony limits cannot hold Love out,  
And what Love can do, that dares Love's attempt:  
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.  jul. 
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.  Rom. 
Alack there lies more peril in thine eye,  
Then twenty of their Swords, look thou but sweet,  
And I am proof against their enmity.  jul. 
I would not for the world they saw thee here.  Rom. 
I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes  
And but thou love me, let them find me here,  
My life were better ended by their hate,  
Then death prorogued wanting of thy Love..  jul. 
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?  Rom. 
By Love that first did promp 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-washet with the farthest Sea,  
I should adventure for such Merchandise.  jul. 
Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,  
Else would a Maiden blush be paint my cheek,  
For that which thou hast heard me speak to night,  
Feign would I dwell on form, fain, fain, deny  
What I have spoke, but farewell Compliment,  
Dost thou Love? I know thou wilt say I,  
And I will take thy word, yet if thou swearest,  
Thou mayest prove false: at Lover's perjuries  
They say jove laughed, oh gentle Romeo,  
If thou dost Love, pronounce it faithfully:  
Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won,  
I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,  
So thou wilt woo: But else not for the world.  
In truth saire Montague I am too fond:  
And therefore thou mayest think my behaviour light,  
But trust me Gentleman, I'll prove more true,  
Then those that have coying to be strange,  
I should have been more strange, I must confess,  
But that thou over heard'st ere I was beware  
My true Love's passion, therefore pardon me,  
And not impute this yielding to light Love,  
Which the dark night hath so discovered.  Rom. 
Lady, by yonder Moon I vow,  
That tips with silver all these Fruit ●ree tops.  jul. 
O swear not by the Moon, th' inconstant Moon,  
That monthly changes in her circled Orb,  
Lest that thy Love prove likewise variable.  Rom. 
What shall I swear by?  jul. 
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.  Rom. 
If my hearts dear love.  juli. 
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  
E'er, one can say, it lightens, Sweet good night:  
This bud of Love by Summers' 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.  Rom. 
O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?  juli. 
What satisfaction canst thou have to night?  Ro. 
Th' exchange of thy Love's faithful vow for mine.  jul. 
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:  
And yet I would it were to give again.  Rom. 
Wouldst thou withdraw it,  
For what purpose Love?  jul. 
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:  
I hear some noise within dear Love adieu:  Calls within. 
Anon good Nurse, sweet Montague be true:  
Stay but a little, I will come again.  Rom. 
O blessed blessed night, I am afeared  
Being in night, all this is but a dream,  
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.  jul. 
Three words dear Romeo,  
And goodnight 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 right,  
And all my Fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,  
And follow thee my Lord throughout the world.  Within: Madam. 
I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well,  
I do beseech there  Within: Madam. 
(Bianca and by I come)  
To cease thy strife, and leave me to my grief,  
To morrow will I send.  Rom. 
So thrive my soul.  Iu. 
A thousand times good-night.  Exit. Rome. 
A thousand times the worse to want thy light,  
Love goes toward Love as schoolboys from their books  
But Love from Love, towards school with heavy looks.  Enter juliet agaaine. jul. 
Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falconers 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, then  
With repetition of my Romeo.  Rom. 
It is my soul that calls upon my name.  
How silver sweet, sound Lovers tongues by night,  
Like softest Music to attending ears.  jul. 
Romeo.  Rom. 
My Niece.  jul. 
What a clock to morrow  
Shall I send to thee?  Rom. 
By the hour of nine.  jul. 
I will not fail, 'tis twenty years till then,  
I have forgot why I did call thee back.  Rom. 
Let me stand here till thou remember it.  jul. 
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,  
Remembering how I Love thy company.  Rom. 
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,  
Forgetting any other home but this.  jul. 
'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone,  
And yet no further than a wantoness Bird,  
That let's it hop a little from his hand,  
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted Gyves,  
And with a silken thread plucks it back again,  
So loving jealous of his liberty.  Rom. 
I would I were thy Bird.  jul. 
Sweet so would I,  
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing:  
Good night, good night.  Rom. 
Parting is such sweet sorrow,  
That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow.  jul. 
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.  Rom. 
Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to rest,  
The grey eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,  
Checkring the Eastern Clouds with streaks of light,  
And darkness fleckeled like a drunkard reels,  
From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's wheels.  
Hence will I to my ghostly Fries close Cell,  
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.  Exit. Enter friar alone with a basket. Fri. 
The grey eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,  
Checkring the Eastern Clouds with streaks of light.  
And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels,  
From forth day's path, and Titan's burning wheels:  
Now ere the Sun advance his burning eye,  
The day to cheer, and nights dank dew to dry,  
I must upfill 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 diverse kind  
We sucking on her natural bosom find:  
Many for many virtues excellent:  
None but for some, and yet all different.  
Omickle is the powerful grace that lies  
In Plants, Herbs, 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 ought so good, but strained from that fair use,  
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.  
Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,  
And vice sometime by action dignified.  Enter Romeo. 
Within the infant rined of this weak flower,  
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:  
For this being smelled, 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 worse is predominant,  
Full soon the Canker death eats up that Plant.  Rom. 
Good morrow Father.  Fri. 
Benedecite.  
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?  
Young Son, it argues a distempered 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 unbrused youth with unstuft brain  
Doth couch his limbs, there, golden sleep doth reign;  
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,  
Thou art vproused with some diftemprature;  
Or if not so, then here I hit it right.  
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to night.  Rom. 
That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.  Fri. 
God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline?  Rom. 
With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No,  
I have forgot that name, and that names woe.  Fri. 
That's my good Son, but where hast thou been then?  Rom. 
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.  Fri. 
Be plain good Son, rest homely in thy drift,  
Riddling confession, finds but riddling shrift.  Rom 
Then plainly know my hearts 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 wooed, and made exchange of vow:  
I'll tell thee as we pass, but this I pray,  
That thou consent to marry us to day.  Fri. 
Holy S. Francis, what a change is here?  
Is Rosaline that thou didst Love so dear  
So soon forsaken? young men's Love then lies  
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.  
jesus Maria, what a deal of brine  
Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline?  
How much salt water thrown away in waist,  
To season Love that of it doth not taste.  
The Sun not yet thy sighs, from heaven clears,  
Thy old groans yet ringing in my ancient ears:  
Lo here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit,  
Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.  
If ere 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.  Rom. 
Thou chidest me oft for loving Rosaline.  Fri. 
For doting not for loving pupil mine.  Rom. 
And badst me bury Love..  Fri. 
Not in a grave,  
To lay one in, another out to have.  Rom. 
I pray thee chide me not, her I Love now  
Doth grace for grace, and Love for Love allow:  
The other did not so.  Fri. 
O she knew well,  
Thy Love did read by rote, that 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 household rancour to pure Love..  Rom. 
O let us hence, I stand on sudden haste.  Fri. 
Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.  Exeunt Enter Benuolio and Mercutio. Mer. 
Where the deu'le should this Romeo be? came he not home to night?  Ben. 
Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.  Mer. 
Why that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline torments him so, that he will sure run mad.  Ben. 
Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a Letter to his Father's house.  Mer. 
A challenge on my life.  Ben. 
Romeo will answer it.  Mer. 
Any man that can write, may answer a Letter.  Ben. 
Nay, he will answer the Letters Master how he dares, being dared.  Mer. 
Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead stabbed with a white wenches black eye, run through the ear with a Love song, the very pin of his heart, cleft with the blind Bowe-boyes butt-shaft, and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?  Ben. 
Why what is Tibalt?  Mer. 
More than Prince of Cats. Oh he's the Courageous Captain of Compliments: he fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the immortal Passado, the Punto reverso, the Hay.  Ben. 
The what?  Mer. 
The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phantacies, these new tuners of accent: jesus 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 pardon-mee's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their bones.  Enter Romeo. Ben. 
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.  Mer. 
Without his Roe, like a dried Hearing. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen wench, marry she had a better Love to be rhyme her: Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a Gipsy, Helen and Hero, hildinsgs and Harlots: Thisbie a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French salutation to your French slop: you gave us the the counterfeit fairly last night.  Romeo. 
Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I give you?  Mer. 
The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceive?  Rom. 
Pardon Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.  Mer. 
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.  Rom. 
Meaning to curtsy.  Mer. 
Thou hast most kindly hit it.  Rom. 
A most courteous exposition.  Mer. 
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.  Rom. 
Pink for flower.  Mer. 
Right.  Rom. 
Why then is my Pump well flowered.  Mer. 
Sure wit, 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.  Rom. 
O single soled jest,  
Solely singular for the singleness.  Mer. 
Come between us good Benuolio, my wits faints.  Rom. 
Swits and spurs,  
Swits and spurs, or I'll cry a match.  Mer. 
Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am 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?  Rom. 
Thou wast never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the Goose.  Mer. 
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.  Rom. 
Nay, good Goose bite not.  Mer. 
Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting,  
It is a most sharp sauce.  Rom. 
And is it not well served into a Sweet-Goose?  Mer. 
Oh here's a wit of Chevril, that stretches from an inch narrow, to an ell broad.  Rom. 
I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added to the Goose, proves thee fare and wide, abroad Goose.  Mer. 
Why is not this better now, then 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 hid his babble in a hole.  Ben. 
Stop there, stop there.  Mer. 
Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the hair.  Ben. 
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.  Mer. 
O thou art deceived, I would have made it short, or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.  Enter Nurse and her man. Rom. 
Here's goodly gear.  
A sail, a sail.  Mer. 
Two, two: a Shirt and a Smock.  Nur. 
Peter?  Peter. 
Anon.  Nur. 
My Fan Peter?  Mer. 
Good Peter to hide her face?  
For her Fans the fairer face?  Nur. 
God ye good morrow Gentlemen.  Mer. 
God ye gooden fair Gentlewoman.  Nur. 
Is it gooden?  Mer. 
'Tis no less I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the Dial is now upon the prick of Noon.  Nur. 
Out upon you: what a man are you?  Rom. 
One Gentlewoman,  
That God hath made, himself to mar.  Nur. 
By my troth it is said, for himself to, mar quatha: 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.  Nur. 
You say well.  Mer. 
Yea is the worst well,  
Very well took: I faith, wisely, wisely.  Nur. 
If you be he sir,  
I desire some confidence with you?  Ben. 
She will indite him to some Supper.  Mer. 
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd. So no.  Rom. 
What hast thou found?  Mer. 
No Hare sir, unless a Hare sir in a Lenten pie, that is something stolen and hoar ere it be spent.  
An old Hare hoar, and an old Hare whore is very good meat in Lent.  
But a Hare that is hoar is too much for a score▪ when it hoares ere it be spent,  
Romeo will you come to your Fathers? we'll to dinner thither.  Rom. 
I will follow you.  Mer. 
Farewell ancient Lady:  
Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.  Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio. Nur. 
I pray you sir, what saucy Merchant was this that was so full of his ropery?  Rom. 
A Gentleman Nurse, that love's to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a Month.  Nur. 
And a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, & 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 flurt-gils, I am none of his skeins mates, and thou must stand by too and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure.  Pet. 
I saw no man use you at his 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.  Nur. 
Now afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers, skuruy knave: pray you sir a word: and as I told you, my young Lady bid me inquire you out, what she bid me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her in a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say: for the Gentlewoman is young: & therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.  Nur. 
Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistress, I protest unto thee.  Nur. 
Good heart, and i'faith I will tell her as much:  
Lord, Lord she will be a joyful woman.  Rom. 
What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou dost not mark me?  Nur. 
I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I take it, is a Gentlemanlike offer.  Rom. 
Bid her device some means to come to shrift this afternoon,  
And there she shall at Friar Laurence Cell  
Beshriued and married: here is for thy pains.  Nur. 
No truly sir not a penny.  Rom. 
Go too, I say you shall.  Nur. 
This afternoon sir? well she shall be there.  Ro. 
And stay thou 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 quite thy pains:  
Farewell, commend me to thy Mistress.  Nur. 
Now God in heaven bless thee: hark you sir,  Rom. 
What sayest thou my dear Nurse?  Nurse. 
Is your man secret, did you ne'er hear say two may keep counsel putting one away.  Ro. 
Warrant thee my man as true as steel.  Nur. 
Well sir, my Mistress is the sweetest Lady, Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a Noble man in Town one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard: but she good soul had as leeve a see 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 versall world. Doth not Rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?  Rom. 
I Nurse, what of that? Both with an R  Nur. 
A mocker that's the dog's name, R. is for the no, I know it gins 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.  Rom. 
Commend me to thy Lady.  Nur. 
I a thousand times. Peter?  Pet. 
Anon.  Nur. 
Before and apace.  Exit Nurse and Peter. Enter juliet. jul. 
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:  
Oh she is lame, Love's Herald should be thoughts,  
Which ten times faster glides than the Sun's beams,  
Driving back shadows over lowering hills.  
Therefore do nimble Pinioned 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,  
I 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 fain as they were dead,  
Vnwieldie, slow, heavy, and pale as lead.  Enter Nurse. 
O God she comes, O honey Nurse what news?  
Hast thou met with him? send thy man away.  Nur. 
Peter stay at the gate.  jul. 
Now good sweet Nurse:  
O Lord, why lookest thou sad?  
Though news, be sad, yet tell them merrily.  
If good thou sham'st the music of sweet news,  
By playing it to me, with so sour a face.  Nur. 
I am a weary, give me leave awhile,  
Fie how my bones ache, what a jaunt have I had?  jul. 
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:  
Nay come I pray thee speak, good good Nurse speak.  Nur. 
jesus what hast? can you not stay a while?  
Do you not see that I am out of breath?  jul. 
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 circustance:  
Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?  Nur. 
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 legs 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 a Lamb: go thy ways wench, serve God. What have you dined at home?  jul. 
No no: but all this this did I know before  
What says he of our marriage? what of that?  Nur. 
Lord how my head aches, what a head have I?  
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.  
My back at other side: o my back, my back:  
Beshrew your heart for sending me about  
To catch my death with jaunting up and down.  jul. 
I'faith: I am sorry that that thou art so well.  
Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what says my Love?  Nur. 
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?  jul. 
Where is my Mother?  
Why she is within, where should she be?  
How oddly thou repli'st:  
Your Love says like an honest Gentleman  
Where is your Mother?  Nur. 
O Gods Lady dear,  
Are you so hot? marry come up I trow,  
Is this the Poultis for my aching bones?  
Henceforward do your messages yourself.  jul. 
here's such a coil, come what says Romeo?  Nur. 
Have you got leave to go to shrift to day?  jul. 
I have.  Nur. 
Then high you hence to Friar Laurence Cell,  
There stays a Husband to make you a wife:  
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,  
The●'le be in Scarlet strait at any news:  
Hie you to Church, I must an other way,  
To fetch a Ladder by the which your Love  
Must climbed a birds 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.  jui. 
Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.  Exeunt. Enter friar and Romeo. Fri. 
So smile the heavens upon this holy act,  
That after hours, with sorrow chide us not.  Rom. 
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.  Fri. 
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. Oh so light a foot  
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint,  
A Lover may bestride the Gossamours,  
That ydles in the wanton Summer air,  
And yet not fall, so light is vanity.  jul. 
Good even to my ghostly Confessor.  Fri. 
Romeo shall thank thee Daughter for us both.  jul. 
As much to him, else in his thanks too much.  Fri. 
Ah juliet, if the measure of thy joy  
Be heaped 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.  jul. 
Conceit more rich in matter then 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 such excess,  
I cannot sum up some of half my wealth.  Fri. 
Come, come with me, & we will make short work,  
For by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,  
Till holy Church incorporate two in one.  Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men. Ben. 
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.  Mer. 
Thou art like one of these 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 him on the Drawer, when indeed there is no need.  Ben. 
Am I like such a Fellow?  Mer. 
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.  Ben. 
And what too?  Mer. 
Nay, and 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 full 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 Ribbon, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling?  Ben. 
And 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.  Mer. 
The Fee-simple? O simple.  Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others. Ben. 
By my head here comes the Capulets.  Mer. 
By my heel I care not.  Tyb. 
Fellow me close, for I will speak to them.  
Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.  Mer. 
And but one word with one of us? couple it with something, make it a word and a blow.  Tib. 
You shall find me apt enough to that sir, and you will give me occasion.  Mercu. 
Can you not take some occasion without giving?  Tib. 
Mercutio thou consortest with Romeo.  Mer. 
Consort? what dost thou make us Minstrels? & thou make Minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick, here's that shall make you dance. Come consort.  Ben. 
We talk here in the public haunt of men:  
Either withdraw unto some private place,  
Or reason coldly of your greevances:  
Or else departed, here all eyes gaze on us.  Mer. 
men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.  
I will not budge for no man's pleasure I  Enter Romeo. Tib. 
Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man.  Mer. 
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.  Tib. 
Romeo, the love I bear thee, can afford  
No better term then this: Thou art a Villain.  Rom. 
Tibalt, 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 knowst me not.  Tib. 
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries  
That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw.  Rom. 
I do protest I never injured thee,  
But loved thee better than thou canst device:  
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love,  
And so good Capulet, which name I tender  
As dear as my own, be satisfied.  Mer. 
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission:  
Alla stucatho carries it away.  
Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walk?  Tib. 
What woulds thou have with me?  Mer. 
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 dry beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilchard by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.  Tib. 
I am for you.  Rom. 
Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier up.  Mer. 
Come sir, your Passado.  Rom. 
Draw Benuolio, beat down their weapons:  
Gentlemen, for shame forbear this outrage,  
Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath  
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.  
Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.  Exit Tybalt. Mer. 
I am hurt.  
A plague a both the Houses, I am sped:  
Is he gone and hath nothing?  Ben. 
What art thou hurt?  Mer. 
I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis enough,  
Where is my Page? go Villain fetch a Surgeon.  Rom. 
Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.  Mer. 
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 a both your houses. What, 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 deu'le came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.  Rom. 
I thought all for the best.  Mer. 
Help me into some house Benuolio,  
Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses.  
They have made worms meat of me,  
I have it, and sound to your Houses.  Exit. Rom. 
This Gentleman the Princes near Alley,  
My very Friend hath got his mortal hurt  
In my behalf, my reputation stained  
With Tibalts slander, Tybalt that an hour  
Hath been my Cousin: O Sweet juliet,  
Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate,  
And in my temper softened Valour's steel.  Enter Benuolio. Ben. 
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's is dead,  
That Gallant spirit hath aspired the Clouds,  
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.  Rom. 
This days black Fate, on more days doth depend,  
This but gins, the woe others must end.  Enter Tybalt. Ben. 
Here comes the Furious Tybalt back again.  Rom. 
He gone in triumph, and Mercutio slain?  
Away to heaven respective Lenity,  
And fire and Fury, be my conduct now.  
Now Tybalt take the Villain back again  
That late thou gav'st 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.  Tib. 
Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here,  
Shalt with him hence.  Rom. 
This shall determine that.  They fight. Tybalt falls. Ben. 
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.  Rom. 
O! I am Fortune's fool.  Ben. 
Why dost thou stay?  Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens'. Citi. 
Which way ran he that killed Mercutio?  
Tibalt that Murderer, which way ran he?  Ben. 
There lies that Tybalt.  Citi. 
up sir go with me:  
I charge thee in the Prince's names obey.  Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wives and all. Prin. 
Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?  Ben. 
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.  Cap. Wi. 
Tybalt, my Cousin? O my Brother's Child,  
O Prince, O Cousin, Husband, O the blood is spilt  
Of my dear kinsman. Prince as thou art true,  
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.  
O Cousin, Cousin.  Prin. 
Benuolio, who began this Fray?  Ben. 
Tybalt here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay,  
Romeo that spoke him fair, bid him bethink  
How nice the Quarrel was, and urged withal  
Your high displeasure: all this uttered,  
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed  
Can not take truce with the unruly spleen  
Of Tybalts 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, Friend's part, and swifter than his tongue,  
His aged 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 entertained Revenge,  
And too't they go like lightning, for ere I  
Can draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain:  
And as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly:  
This is the truth, or let Benuolio die.  Cap. Wi. 
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.  Prin. 
Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio,  
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe.  Cap. 
Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutio's Friend,  
His fault concludes, but what the law should end,  
The life of Tybalt.  Prin. 
And for that offence,  
Immediately we do exile him hence:  
I have an interest in your hearts 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.  
It will be deaf to pleading and excuses,  
Nor tears, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses.  
Therefore use none, let Romeo hence in haste,  
Else when he is found, that hour is his last.  
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:  
Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.  Exeunt. Enter juliet alone. jul. 
Gallop apace, you fiery footed fleedes,  
Towards Phoebus' lodging, such a Wagoner  
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,  
And bring in Cloudy night immediately.  
Spread thy close Curtain Love-performing night,  
That runaways eyes may wink and Romeo  
Leap to these arms, untalkt of and unseen,  
Lovers can see to do their Amorous rights,  
And 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,  
Played for a pair of stainless Maidenhoods,  
Hood my unmanned blood baiting in my Cheeks,  
With thy Black mantle, till strange Love grow 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 upon a Raven's back:  
Come gentle night, come loving blackebrowed night.  
Give me my Romeo, and when I 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 possessed it, and though I am sold,  
Not yet enjoyed, 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:  Enter Nurse with cords. 
And she brings news and every tongue that speaks  
But Romeos, name, speaks heavenly eloquence:  
Now Nurse, what news? what hast thou there?  
The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?  Nur. 
I, I, the Cords.  juli. 
Ay me, what news?  
Why dost thou wring thy hands.  Nur. 
A welady, he's dead, he's dead,  
We are undone Lady, we are undone.  
Alack the day, he's gone, he's killed, he's dead.  jul. 
Can heaven be so envious?  Nur. 
Romeo can,  
Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo.  
Who ever would have thought it Romeo.  juli. 
What devil art thou,  
That dost torment me thus?  
This torture should be roared 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 shot, that makes thee answer I:  
If he be slain say I, or if not, no.  
Brief, sounds, determine of my weal or wo.  Nur. 
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,  
God save the mark, here on his manly breast,  
A piteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse:  
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood,  
All in gore blood, I sounded at the sight-  jul. 
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 on heavy beer.  Nur. 
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had:  
O courteous Tybalt honest Gentleman,  
That ever I should live to see thee dead.  jul. 
What storm is this that blows so contrary?  
Is Romeo slaughtered? and is Tybalt dead?  
My dearest Cousin, and my dearer Lord:  
Then dreadful Trumpet sound the general doom,  
For who is living, if those two are gone:  Nur. 
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished,  
Romeo that killed him, he is banished.  jul. 
O God!  
Did Rom'os' hand shed Tybalts blood  
It did, it did, alas the day, it did.  Nur. 
O Serpent heart, hid with a flowering face.  jul. 
Did ever Dragon keep so fair a Cave?  
Beautiful Tyrant, fiend Angelical:  
Ravenous Doue-feathered Raven,  
Woluish-ravening Lamb,  
Despised substance of Divinest show:  
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,  
A dim Saint, an Honourable Villain:  
O Nature! what hadst thou to do in hell,  
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend  
In mortal 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.  Nur. 
There's no trust, no faith, no honesty in men,  
All periu'rd, all forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers,  
Ah where's my man? give me some Aquavitae?  
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old:  
Shame come to Romeo.  jul. 
Blistered be thy tongue  
For such a wish, he was not borne to shame:  
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;  
For 'tis a throne where Honour may be Growned  
Sole Monarch of the universal earth:  
O what a beast was I to chide him?  Nur. 
Will you speak well of him,  
That killed your Cousin?  jul. 
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 killed 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 life's that Tibalt would have slain,  
And Tibalt dead that would have slain my husband:  
All this is comfort, wherefore weep I then?  
Some words there was worse than Tybalts death  
That murdered me, I would forget it feign,  
But oh, 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 Tibalts: Tibalts death  
Was woe enough if it had ended there:  
Or if sour woe delights in fellowship,  
And needly will be ranked with other griefs,  
Why followed not when she said Tibalts dead,  
Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both,  
Which modern lamentation might have moved.  
But which a rearward following Tybalts 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 words death, no words can that woe sound.  
Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse?  Nur. 
Weeping and wailing over Tybalts Coarse,  
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.  Iu. 
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent  
When theirs are dry for Romeo's banishment.  
Take up those Cordes, 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 Cord, come Nurse, I'll to my wedding bed,  
And death not Romeo, take my Maiden head.  Nur. 
Hie to your Chamber, I'll find Romeo  
To comfort you, I wots well where he is:  
Hark ye your Romeo will be here at night,  
I'll to him, he is hid at Laurence Cell.  jul. 
O find him, give this Ring to my true Knight,  
And bid him come, to take his last farewell.  Exit. Enter friar and Romeo. Fri. 
Romeo come forth,  
Come forth thou fearful man,  
Affliction is enamoured of thy parts:  
And thou art wedded to calamity.  Rom. 
Father what news?  
What is the Prince's Doom?  
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,  
That I yet know not?  Fri. 
Too familiar  
Is my dear Son with such sour Company:  
I bring thee tidings of the Prince's Doom.  Rom. 
What less than Doomsday,  
Is the Prince's Doom?  Fri. 
A gentler judgement vanished from his lips,  
Not bodies death, but body's banishment.  Rom. 
Ha', banishment? be merciful, say death:  
For exile hath more terror in his look,  
Much more than death: do not say banishment.  Fri. 
Here from Verona art thou banished:  
Be patiented, for the world is broad and wide.  Rom. 
There is no world without Verona walls,  
But Purgatory, Torture, hell itself:  
Hence banished, is banished from the world,  
And world's exile is death. Then banished,  
Is death, mistearmed, calling death banished,  
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe,  
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.  Fri. 
O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness!  
Thy fault our Law calls death, but the kind Prince  
Taking thy part, hath rushed aside the Law,  
And turned that black word death, to banishment.  
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.  Rom. 
'Tis Torture and not mercy, heaven is here  
Where juliet life's, 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 life's  
In carrion Flies, than Romeo: they may seize  
On the white wonder of dear juliets hand.  
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,  
Who even in pure and vestal modesty  
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.  
This may Flies do, when I from this must fly,  
And sayest thou yet, that exile is not death?  
But Romeo may not, he is banished.  
Hadst thou no poison mixed, 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:  
Howl attends it, how hast thou the hart  
Being a Divine, a Ghostly Confessor,  
A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend professed:  
To mangle me with that word, banished?  Fri. 
Then fond Mad man, hear me speak.  Rom. 
O thou wilt speak again of banishment.  Fri. 
I'll give thee Armour to keep off that word,  
Adversities sweet milk, Philosophy,  
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.  Rom. 
Yet banished? hang up Philosophy:  
Unless Philosohpie can make a juliet,  
Displant a Town, reverse a Prince's Doom,  
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.  Fri. 
O than I see, that Mad men have no ears.  Rom. 
How should they,  
When wisemen have no eyes?  Fri. 
Let me despair with thee of thy estate,  Rom. 
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel,  
Wert thou as young as juliet my Love:  
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,  
Doting like me, and like me banished,  
Then mightest thou speak,  
Then mightest thou tear thy hair,  
And fall upon the ground as I do now,  
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.  Enter Nurse, and knocks. friar. 
Arise one knocks,  
Good Romeo hide thyself.  Rom. 
Not I,  
Unless the breath of Hartsicke groans  
Mist-like enfold me from the search of eyes.  Knock Fri. 
Hark how they knock:  
(Who's there) Romeo arise,  
Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand up:  Knocke. 
Run to my study: by and by, God's will  
What simpleness is this: I come, I come.  Knocke. 
Who knocks so hard?  
Whence come you? what's your will?  Enter Nurse. Nur. 
Let me come in,  
And you shall know my errand:  
I come from Lady juliet.  Fri. 
Welcome then.  Nur. 
O holy Friar, O tell me holy Friar,  
Where's my Lady's Lord? where's Romeo?  Fri. 
There on the ground,  
With his own tears made drunk.  Nur. 
O he is even in my Mistress case,  
Just in her case. O woeful sympathy:  
Piteous predicament, even so lies she,  
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering,  
Stand up, stand up, stand and you be a man,  
For juliets sake, for her sake rise and stand:  
Why should you fall into so deep an O.  Rom. 
Nurse.  Nur. 
Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all.  Rom. 
Speakest thou of juliet? how is it with her?  
Doth not she think me an old Murderer,  
Now I have stained the Childhood of our joy,  
With blood removed, but little from her own?  
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says  
My concealed Lady to our concealed Love?  Nur. 
Oh 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.  Ro. 
As if that name shot from the dead level of a Gun,  
Did murder her, as that names cursed hand  
Murdered her kinsman. Oh 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.  Fri. 
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,  
And ill beseeming beast in seeming both,  
Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order,  
I thought thy disposition better tempered.  
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?  
And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies,  
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 sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit,  
Which like a Usurer aboundest 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 vowed to cherish.  
Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Love,  
misshapen in the conduct of them both:  
Like powder in a skilless Soldier's flask,  
Is set a fire by thine own ignorance,  
And thou dismembered 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 art thou happy.  
The law that threatened death became thy Friend,  
And turned it to exile, there art thou happy.  
A pack or blessing light upon thy back,  
Happiness Courts thee in her best array,  
But like a misshaped and sullen wench,  
Thou puttest up 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 than 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 thy Prince, and call thee back,  
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy  
Than thou wentest 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.  Nur. 
O Lord, I could have stayed here all night,  
To hear good counsel: oh what learning is!  
My Lord I'll tell my Lady you will come.  Rom. 
Do so, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide.  Nur. 
here sir, a Ring she bid me give you sir:  
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.  Rom. 
How well my comfort is revived by this.  Fri. 
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.  Rom. 
But that a joy past joy, calls out on me,  
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee:  
Farewell.  Exeunt. Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris. Cap. 
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 dear,  
And so did I. Well, we were borne 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.  Par. 
These times of woe, afford no times to woo:  
Madam good-night, commend me to your Daughter.  Lady. 
I will, and know her mind early to morrow,  
To night, she is mewed up to her heaviness.  Cap. 
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 Wendsday next,  
But soft, what day is this?  Par. 
Monday my Lord.  Cap. 
Monday, ha' ha': well Wendsday is too soon,  
A Thursday let it be: a 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.  Cap. 
Well, get you gone, a 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 hoa,  
Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early by and by,  
Good-night.  Exeunt. Enter Romeo and juliet aloft. jul. 
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:  
It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark,  
That pier'st the fearful hollow of thine ear,  
Nightly she sings on yond Pomegranate tree,  
Believe me Love, it was the Nightingale.  Rom. 
It was the Lark the Herald of the Morn:  
No Nightingale: look Love what envious streaks  
Do lace the severing Clouds in yonder East:  
Nights Candles are burnt out, and jocund day  
Stands tip to on the misty Mountain's tops,  
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.  jul. 
Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:  
It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales,  
To be to thee this night a Torchbearer,  
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.  
Therefore stay yet, thou needest not to be gone,  Rom. 
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death,  
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.  
I'll say you grey is not the morning's eye,  
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cinthia's brow.  
Nor that is not Lark whose notes do beat  
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads,  
I have more care to stay, then will to go:  
Come death and welcome, juliet will it so.  
How is't my soul, let's talk, it is not day.  juli. 
It is, it is, hie hence be gone away:  
It is the Lark that sings so out of tune,  
Straining harsh Discords, and unpleasing Sharpes.  
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 Hunts-up to the day,  
O now be gone, more light and it light grows.  Rom. 
More light & light, more dark & dark our woes.  Enter Madam and Nurse. Nur. 
Madam.  jul. 
Nurse.  Nur. 
Your Lady Mother is coming to your chamber,  
The day is broke, be wary, look about.  jul. 
Then window let day in, and let life out.  Rom. 
Farewell, farewell, one kiss and I'll descend.  jul. 
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.  Rom. 
Farewell:  
I will omit no opportunity,  
That may convey my greetings Love, to thee.  jul. 
O thinkest thou we shall ever meet again?  Rom. 
I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve  
For sweet discourses in our time to come.  juilet. 
O God! I have an ill Divining soul,  
Me thinks I see thee now, thou art so low,  
As one dead in the bottom of a Tomb,  
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.  Rom. 
And trust me Love, in my eye so do you:  
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.  Exit. jul. 
O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,  
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him  
That is renowned for faith? be fickle Fortune:  
For than I hope thou wilt not keep him long,  
But send him back.  Enter Mother. Lad. 
Ho Daughter, are you up?  jul: 
Who is't that calls? Is it my Lady Mother.  
Is she not down so late, or up so early?  
What unaccustomed cause procures her hither?  Lad. 
Why how now juliet?  jul. 
Madam I am not well.  Lad. 
Evermore weeping for your Cousins death?  
What wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?  
And 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.  jul. 
Yet let me weep, for such a feeling loss.  Lad. 
So shall you feel the loss, but not the Friend  
Which you weep for.  jul. 
Feeling so the loss,  
I cannot choose but ever weep the Friend.  La. 
Well Girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,  
As that the Villain life's which slaughtered him.  jul. 
What Villain, Madam?  Lad. 
That same Villain Romeo.  jul. 
Villain and he, be many Miles asunder:  
God pardon, I do with all my heart:  
And yet no man like he, doth grieve my heart.  Lad. 
That is because the Traitor life's.  jul. 
I Madam from the reach of these my hands:  
Would none but I might venge my Cousins death.  Lad. 
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not.  
Then weep no more, I'll send to one in Mantua,  
Where that same banished Run-ag●te doth live,  
Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram,  
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:  
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.  jul. 
Indeed I never shall be satisfied  
With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead  
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vexed:  
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 hath slaughtered him.  Mo. 
Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.  
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings Girl.  jul. 
And joy comes well, in such a needy time,  
What are they, beseech your Ladyship?  Mo. 
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 expects not, nor I looked not for.  jul. 
Madam in happy time, what day is this?  Mo. 
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 a joyful Bride.  jul. 
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 woe:  
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.  Mo. 
Here comes your Father, tell him so yourself,  
And see how he will take it at your hands.  Enter Capulet and Nurse. Cap. 
When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle daew  
But for the Sunset of my Brother's Son,  
It rain downright.  
How now? A Conduit Girl, what still in tears?  
Evermore showering in one little body?  
Thou counterfeits 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 fault flood, the winds thy sighs,  
Who raging with the tears and they with them,  
Without a sudden calm will over set  
Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife?  
Have you delivered to her our decree?  Lady. 
I sir:  
But she will none, she gives you thankes,  
I would the fool were married to her grave.  Cap. 
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 blessed,  
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought  
So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroom  jul. 
Not proud you have,  
But thankful that you have:  
Proud can I never be of what I have,  
But thankful even for hate, that is meant Love..  Cap. 
How now?  
How now? Chopped Logic? what is this?  
Proud, and I thank you: and I thank you not.  
Thank me no thank, 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. 
Fie, fie, what are you mad?  jul. 
Good Father, I beseech you on my knees  
Hear me with patience, but to speak a word.  Fa. 
Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch,  
I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,  
Or never after look me in the face.  
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.  
My finger's itch, wife: we scarce thought us blessed,  
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.  Nur. 
God in heaven bless her,  
You are too blame my Lord to rate her so.  Fa. 
And why my Lady wisdom? hold your tongue,  
Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go.  Nur. 
I speak no treason,  
Father, O Godigoden,  
May not one speak?  Fa. 
Peace you mumbling fool,  
Utter your gravity o'er a Gossip's bowls  
For here we need it not.  La. 
You are too hot.  Fa. 
God's bread, it makes me mad:  
Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play,  
Alone in company, still my care hath been  
To have her matched, and having now provided  
A Gentleman of Noble Parentage,  
Of fair Demeans, Youthful, and Nobly Allied,  
Stuffed as they say with Honourable parts,  
Proportioned 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 no● wed, I cannot Love:  
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.  
But, and you will not wed, I'll pardon you.  
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:  
Look too't, think on't, I do not use to jest.  
Thursday is near, lay hand on heart, advice,  
And you be mine, I'll give you to my Friend:  
And you be not, hang, beg, strave, die in the streets,  
For by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,  
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:  
Trust too't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn  Exit. juli. 
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.  Mo. 
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word,  
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.  Exit. jul. 
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:  
Hlacke, alack▪ that heaven should practise stratagems  
Upon so soft a subject as myself.  
What sayest thou? hast thou not a word of joy?  
Some comfort Nurse.  Nur. 
Faith here it is,  
Romeo is banished, 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:  
Romeos 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.  jul. 
Speakest thou from thy heart?  Nur. 
And from my soul too,  
Or else beshrew them both.  jul. 
Amen.  Nur. 
What?  jul. 
Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much,  
Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,  
Having displeased my Father, to Laurence Cell,  
To make confession, and to be absolved.  Nur. 
Marry I will, and this is wisely done.  jul. 
Ancient damnation, O most wicked fiend!  
It is 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 henchforth shall be twain:  
I'll to the Friar to know his remedy,  
If all else fail, myself have power to die.  Exeunt. Enter friar and County Paris. Fri. 
On Thursday sir? the time is very short.  Par. 
My Father Capulet will have it so,  
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.  Fri. 
You say you do not know the Lady's mind?  
Vneven is the course, I like it not.  Pa. 
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalis death,  
And therefore have I little talk 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, hasts 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?  Fri. 
I would I knew not why it should be slowed.  
Look sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.  Enter juliet. Par. 
Happily met, my Lady and my wife.  jul. 
That may be sir, when I may be a wife.  Par. 
That may be, must be Love, on Thursday next.  jul. 
What must be shall be.  Fri. 
That's a certain text.  Par. 
Come you to make confession to this Father?  jul. 
To answer that, I should confess to you.  Par. 
Do not deny to him, that you Love me.  jul. 
I will confess to you that I Love him.  Par. 
So will ye, I am sure that you Love me.  jul. 
If I do so, it will be of more price,  
Benig spoke behind your back, then to your face.  Par. 
Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.  jul. 
The tears have got small victory by that:  
For it was bad enough before their spite.  Pa. 
Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.  jul. 
That is no slander sir, which is a truth,  
And what I spoke, I spoke it to thy face.  Par. 
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it.  jul. 
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?  Fri. 
My leisure serves me pensive daughter now.  
My Lord you must entreat the time alone.  Par. 
Godsheild: I should disturb Devotion,  
juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye,  
Till then adieu, and keep this holy kiss.  Exit Paris. jul. 
O shut the door, and when thou hast done so,  
Come weep with me, past hope, past care, past help.  Fri. 
O juliet, I already know thy grief,  
It streams me past the compass of my wits:  
I hear thou must and nothing may prorogue it,  
On Thursday next be married to this County.  jul. 
Tell me not Friar that thou hearest 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 ' his knife, I'll help it presently.  
God joined my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands,  
And ere this hand by thee to Romeo sealed:  
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 expetien'st time,  
Give me some present counsel, or behold  
Twixt my extremes and me, this bloody knife  
Shall play the umpeere, arbitrating that,  
Which the commission of thy years and art,  
Can to no issue of true honour bring:  
Be not so long to speak, I long to die,  
If what thou speakest, speak not of remedy.  Fri. 
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 stay thyself,  
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake  
A thinglike death to chide away this shame,  
That coap'st with death himself, to scape fro it:  
And if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.  jul. 
Oh bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,  
From of the Battlements of any Tower,  
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk  
Where Serpents are: chain me with roaring Bears  
Or hide me nightly in a Charnel house,  
Orecovered quite with dead men's rattling bones,  
With reckie shanks and yellow chapels sculls:  
Or bid me go into a new made grave,  
And hide me with a dead man in his grave,  
Things that to hear them told, have made me tremble,  
And I will do it without fear or doubt,  
To live an unstained wife to my sweet Love..  Fri. 
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 Viol being then in bed,  
And this distilling 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 many ashes, the eyes windows fall  
Like death when he shut up the day of life:  
Each part deprived of supple government,  
Shall stiff and stark, and cold appear like death,  
And in this borrowed 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 uncovered on the Beer,  
Be borne to burial in thy kindred's grave:  
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 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.  jul. 
Give me, give me, O tell not me ofcare.  Fri. 
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.  Iu. 
Love give me strength,  
And strength shall help afford:  
Farewell dear father.  Exit Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Serving men, two or three. Cap. 
So many guests invite as here are writ,  
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cooks.  Ser. 
You shall have none ill sir, for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.  Cap. 
How canst thou try them so?  Ser. 
Marry sir, 'tis an ill Cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.  Cap. 
Go be gone, we shall be much unfurnished for this time: what is my Daughter gone to Friar Laurence?  Nur. 
I forsooth.  Cap. 
Well he may chance to do some good on her,  
A peevish self-willed harlotry it is.  Enter juliet. Nur. 
See where she comes from shrift  
With merry look.  Cap. 
How now my headstrong,  
Where have you been gadding?  jul. 
Where I have learned me to repent the sin  
Of disobedient opposition:  
To you and your behests, and am enjoined  
By holy Laurence, to fall prostrate here,  
To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you,  
Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.  Cap. 
Send for the County, go tell him of this,  
I'll have this knot knit up to morrow morning.  jul. 
I met the youthful Lord at Laurence Cell,  
And gave him what becomed Love I might,  
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.  Cap. 
Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand up,  
This is as't should be, let me see the County:  
I marry go I say, and fetch him hither.  
Now afore God, this reuerened holy Friar,  
All our whole City is much bound to him.  jul. 
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?  Mo. 
No not till Thursday, there's time enough.  Fa. 
Go Nurse, go with her,  
we'll to Church to morrow.  Exeunt juliet and Nurse. Mo. 
We shall be short in our provision,  
'Tis now near night.  Fa. 
Tush, I will stir about,  
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife:  
Go thou to juliet, help to deckeup her,  
I'll not to bed to night, let me alone:  
I'll play the huswife 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 reclaimed.  Exeunt Father and Mother Enter juliet and Nurse. jul. 
I 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 knowst, is cross and full of sin.  Enter Mother. Mo. 
What are you busy ho? need you my help?  jul. 
No Madam, we have culled such necessaries  
As are behooveful 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.  Mo. 
Good-night.  
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.  Exeunt. jul. 
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 fire:  
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,  
What if it be a poison which the Friar  
Subtly hath ministered to have me dead,  
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonoured,  
Because he married me before to Romeo?  
I fear it is, and yet me thinks 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 health some 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 walk, 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, me thinks I see my Cousins Ghost,  
Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body  
Upon my Rapier's point: stay Tybalt, stay;  
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drink: I drink to thee.  Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse. Lady. 
Hold,  
Take these keys, and fetch more spices Nurse.  Nur. 
They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastry.  Enter old Capulet. Cap. 
Come, stir, stir, stir,  
The second Cock hath Crowed,  
The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clock:  
Look to the baked meats, good Angelica,  
Spare not for cost.  Nur. 
Go you Cotquean, go,  
Get you to bed, faith you'll be sick to morrow  
For this nights watching.  Cap. 
No not a whit: what? I have watched ere now  
All night for less cause, and ne'er been sick.  La. 
I you have been a Mouse-hunt in your time,  
But I will watch you from such watching now.  Exit Lady and Nurse. Cap. 
A jealous hood, a jealous hood,  
Now fellow, what there?  Enter three or four with spits, and logs, and baskets. Fel. 
Things for the Cook sir, but I know not what.  Cap. 
Make haste, make haste, sirrah, fetch drier Logs.  
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.  Fel. 
I have a head sir, that will find out logs,  
And never trouble Peter for the matter.  Cap. 
Mass and well said, a merry whoreson, ha',  
Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.  Play Music 
The County will be here with Music strait,  
For so he said he would, I hear him near,  
Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say?  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 hast I say.  Nur. 
Mistress, what Mistress? juliet? Fast I warrant her she.  
Why Lamb, why Lady? fie you sluggabed,  
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 a sleep?  
I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam,  
I, let the County take you in your bed,  
he'll fright you up i'faith. Will it not be?  
What dressed, and in your clothes, and down again?  
I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady?  
Alas, alas, help, help, my Lady's dead,  
Oh welladay, that ever I was borne,  
Some Aquavitae ho, my Lord, my Lady?  Mo. 
What noise is here?  Enter Mother. Nur. 
O lamentable day.  Mo. 
What is the matter?  Nur. 
Look, look, oh heavy day.  Mo. 
O me, O me, my Child, my only life:  
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee:  
Help, help, call help.  Enter Father. Fa. 
For shame bring juliet forth, her Lord is come.  Nur. 
she's dead: deceased, she's dead: alack the day.  M. 
Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead.  Fa. 
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 sep erated:  
Death lies on her like an untimely frost  
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.  Nur. 
O Lamentable day!  Mo. 
O woeful time.  Fa. 
Death that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,  
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.  Enter friar and the County. Fri. 
Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?  Fa. 
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 deaths.  Pa. 
Have I thought long to see this morning's face,  
And doth it give me such a sight as this?  Mo. 
Accursed, unhappy, wretched hateful day,  
Most miserable hour, that ere 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 catcht it from my sight.  Nur. 
O woe, O woeful, woeful, woeful day,  
Most lamentable day, most woeful 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 woeful day, O woeful day.  Pa. 
Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spighted, slain,  
Most detestable death by thee beguiled,  
By cruel, cruel thee, quite overthrown:  
O love▪ O life; not life, but love in death.  Fat. 
Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed,  
Uncomfortable time, why cam'st 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.  Fri. 
Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care life's 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 shouldst be aduan'st,  
And weep ye now, seeing she is aduan'st,  
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 life's married long,  
But she's best married, that dies married young.  
Dry up your tears, and stick your Rosemary  
On this fair Coarse, and as the custom is,  
And in her best array bear her to Church:  
For though some Nature bids all us lament,  
Yet Nature's tears are Reason's merriment.  Fa. 
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 Coarse:  
And all things change them to the contrary.  Fri. 
Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him,  
And go sir Paris, every one prepare  
To follow this fair Coarse unto her grave:  
The heavens do lower upon you, for some ill:  
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.  Exeunt Mu. 
Faith we may put up our Pipes and be gone.  Nur. 
Honest good fellows▪ Ah put up, put up,  
For well you know, this is a pitiful case.  Mu. 
I by my troth, the case may be amended.  Enter Peter. Pet. 
Musicians, oh Musicians,  
Hearts ease, heart's ease,  
O, and you will have me live, play hearts ease.  Mu. 
Why hearts ease;  Pet. 
O Musicians,  
Because my heart itself plays, my heart is full.  Mu. 
Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.  Pet. 
You will not then?  Mu. 
No.  Pet. 
I will then give it you sound.  Mu. 
What will you give us?  Pet. 
No money on my faith, but the gleek.  
I will give you the Minstrel.  Mu. 
Then will I give you the Serving creature.  Peter. 
Then will I lay the serving Creatures Dagger on your pate. I will carry no Crotchets, I'll Re you, I'll Fa you, do you note me?  Mu. 
And you Re us, and Fa us, you Note us.  2. M. 
Pray you put up your Dagger,  
And put out your wit.  
Then have at you with my wit.  Peter. 
I will drie-beate you with an iron wit,  
And put up my iron Dagger.  
Answer me like men:  
When gripping, griefs the heart doth wound, than Music with her silver sound.  
Why silver sound? why Music with her silver sound? what say you Simon Catling?  Mu. 
Marry sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.  Pet. 
Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke?  2. M. 
I say silver sound, because Musicians sound for silver  Pet. 
Pratest to, what say you james Sound-Post?  3. Mu. 
Faith I know not what to say.  Pet. 
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. Mu. 
What a pestilent knave is this same?  M. 2. 
Hang him jacke, come we'll in here, tarry for the Mourners, and stay dinner.  Exit. Enter Romeo. Rom. 
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,  
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:  
My bosoms L●sits lightly in his throne:  
And all thisan day an vccustomed 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 possessed,  
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy.  Enter Romeo's man. 
News from Verona, how now Balthazer?  
Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Friar?  
How doth my Lady? Is my Father well?  
How doth my Lady juliet? that I ask again,  
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.  Man. 
Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.  
Her body sleeps in Capulets Monument,  
And her immortal part with Angels live,  
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.  Rom. 
Is it even so?  
Then I deny you stars.  
Thou knowest my lodging, get me ink and paper,  
And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night.  Man. 
I do beseech you sir, have patience:  
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import  
Some misadventure.  Rom. 
Tush, thou art deceived,  
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.  
Hast thou no Letters to me from the Friar?  Man. 
No my good Lord.  Exit Man. Rom. 
more matter: Get thee gone,  
And hire those Horses, I'll be with thee strait.  
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 Appothecarie,  
And here abouts dwells, which late I noted  
In tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows,  
Culling of Simples, meager were hi● looks,  
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:  
And in his needy shop a Tortoyrs hung,  
An Allegater stuffed, 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 scattered, to make up a show.  
Noting this penury, to myself I said,  
An if a man did need a poison now,  
Whose sale is persent death in Mantua,  
Here life's 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 holy day, the beggar's shop is shut.  
What ho? Appothecarie?  Enter Appothecarie. App. 
Who calls so lowed?  Rom. 
Come hither man, I see that thou are 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-wearie-taker may fall dead,  
And that the Trunk may be discharged of breath,  
As violently, as hasty powder fired  
Doth hurry from the fatal Canon's womb.  App. 
Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law  
Is death to any he, that utters them.  Rom. 
Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,  
And fearest to die? Famine is in thy cheeks,  
Need and opression starueth in thy eyes,  
Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back:  
The world is not thy friend, not the world's law:  
The world affords no law to make thee rich.  
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.  App. 
My poverty, but not my will consents.  Rom. 
I pray thy poverty, and not thy will.  App. 
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 strait.  Rom. 
There's thy Gold,  
Worse poison to men's souls,  
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,  
Then these poor compounds that thou mayest 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 juliets grave, for there must I use thee.  Exeunt. Enter friar john to friar Laurence. john. 
Holy Franciscan Friar, Brother, ho?  Enter friar Laurence. Law. 
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.  john. 
Going to find a barefoot 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,  
Sealed up the doors, and would not let us forth,  
So that my speed to Mantua there was stayed.  Law. 
Who bore my Letter then to Romeo?  john. 
I could not send it, here it is again,  
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,  
So fearful were they of infection.  Law. 
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 strait  
Unto my Cell.  john. 
Brother I'll go and bring it thee.  Exit. Law. 
Now must I to the Monument alone,  
Within this three hours will fair juliet wake,  
She will be shrew 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 Coarse, closed in a dead man's Tomb,  Exit. Enter Paris and his Page. Par. 
Give me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft,  
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen:  
Under yond young Trees lay thee all along,  
Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground,  
So shall no foot upon the Churchyard tread,  
Being lose, unfirme with digging up of Graves,  
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,  
As signal that thou hearest some thing approach,  
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.  Page. 
I am almost afraid to stand alone  
Here in the Churchyard, yet I will adventure.  Pa. 
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 destiled by moans;  
The obsequies that I for thee will keep,  
Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave, and weep.  Whistle Boy. 
The Boy gives warning, something doth approach,  
What cursed foot wanders this ways to night,  
To cross my obsequies, and true loves right?  
What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while.  Enter Romeo, and Peter. Rom. 
Give me that Mattocke, & 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,  
What ere thou hearest 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 chief 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 intent 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 fare,  
Then empty Tigers, or the roaring Sea.  Pet. 
I will be gone sir, and not trouble you  Ro. 
So shalt thou show me friendship: take thou that,  
Live and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow.  Pet. 
For all this fain, I'll hide me here about,  
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.  Rom. 
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.  Par. 
This is that banished haughty Montague,  
That murdered my Love's Cousin; with which grief,  
It is supposed the fair Creature died,  
And here is come to do some villainous shame  
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.  
Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague:  
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?  
Condemned vallaine, I do apprehend thee.  
Obey and go with me, for thou must die,  Rom. 
I must indeed, and therefore came I hither:  
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,  
Fly hence and leave me, think upon those gone,  
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth,  
Put not an other sin upon my head,  
By urging me to fury. O be gone,  
By heaven I love thee better than myself,  
For I come hither armed against myself:  
Stay not, be gone, live, and hereafter say,  
A mad man's mercy bid thee run away.  Par. 
I do defy thy commisseration,  
And apprehend thee for a Felon here.  Ro. 
Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee Boy.  Pet. 
O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch.  Pa. 
O I am slain, if thou be merciful,  
Open the Tomb, lay me with juliet.  Rom. 
In faith I will, let me peruse this face:  
Mercutius kinsman, Noble County Paris,  
What said my man, when my betossed soul  
Did not attend him as we road? 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 misfortunes book.  
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave.  
A Grave; O no, a Lantern; slaughtered 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 interred.  
How oft when men are at the point of death,  
Have they been merry? Which their Keepers call  
A lightning before death? Oh how may I  
Call this a lightning? O my Love, my Wife,  
Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,  
Hath had no power yet upon thy Beauty:  
Thou are not conquered: Beauties 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,  
Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,  
To sunder his that was thy enemy?  
Forgive me Cozen. Ah dear juliet:  
Why art thou yet so fair? I will believe,  
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: come lie thou in my arms,  
here's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in.  
O true Appothecarie!  
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.  
Depart again; here, here will I remain,  
With Worms that are thy Chambermaids: 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.. O true Appothecary:  
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.  Enter friar with Lantern, Crow, and Spade. Fri. 
St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night  
Have my old feet stumbled at graves? Who's there?  Man. 
Here's one, a Friend, & one that knows you well.  Fri. 
Bliss be upon you. Tell me good my Friend  
What Torch is yond that vainly lends his light  
To grubs, and eyeless sculls? As I discern,  
It burneth in the Capulets Monument.  Man. 
It doth so holy sir,  
And there's my Master, one that you love.  Fri. 
Who is it?  Man. 
Romeo.  Fri. 
How long hath he been there?  Man. 
Full half an hour.  Fri. 
Go with me to the Vault.  Man. 
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.  Fri. 
Stay, then I'll go alone, fears comes upon me.  
O much I fear some ill unlucky thing.  Man. 
As I did sleep under this young tree here,  
I dreamt my master and another fought,  
And that my Master slew him.  Fri. 
Romeo.  
Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains  
The stony entrance of this Sepulchre?  
What mean these Masterless, and gory Swords  
To lie discoloured by this place of peace?  
Romeo, oh pale: who else? what Paris too?  
And steeped in blood? Ah what an unknd hour  
Is guilty of this lamentable chance?  
The Lady stirs.  jul. 
O comfortable Friar, where's my Lord?  
I do remember well where I should be:  
And there I am, where is my Romeo?  Fri. 
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, I dare no longer stay.  Exit. jul. 
Go get thee hence, for I will notuaway,  
What's here? A cup closed in my true loues hand?  
Poison I see hath been his timeless end  
O churl, drink all? and lest no friendly drop,  
To help me after, I will kiss thy lips,  
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,  
To make me die with a restorative.  
Thy lips are warm.  Enter Boy and Watch. Watch. 
Led Boy, which way?  jul. 
Yea noise?  
Then I'll be brief. O happy Dagger.  
'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.  Kills herself. Boy. 
This is the place,  
There where the Torch doth burn  Watch. 
The ground is bloody,  
Search about the Churchyard.  
Go some of you, who ere you find attach▪  
Pitiful sight, here lies the County slain,  
And Iulie●t bleeding, warm and newly dead  
Who here hath lain these two days buried.  
Go tell the Prince, run to the Capulets,  
Raise up the Mountagues', 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.  Enter Romeo's man. Watch. 
Here's Romeo'r man,  
We found him in the Churchyard.  Con. 
Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.  Enter friar, and another Watchman. 3. Wat. 
Here is a Friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps  
We took this Mattocke and this Spade from him,  
As he was coming from this Churchyard side.  Con. 
A great suspicion, stay the Friar too.  Enter the Prince. Prin. 
What misadventure is so early up,  
That calls our person from our morning's rest?  Enter Capulet and his Wife. Cap. 
What should it be that they so shriek abroad?  Wife. 
O the people in the street cry Romeo.  
Some juliet, and some Paris, and all run  
With open outcry toward out Monument.  Pri. 
What fear is this which startles in your ears?  Wat. 
Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain,  
And Romeo dead, and juliet dead before,  
Warm and new killed.  Prin. 
Search,  
Seek, and know how, this foul murder comes.  Wat. 
Here is a Friar, and Slaughtered nng man,  
With Instruments upon them fit to open  
These dead men's Tombs.  Cap. 
O heaven!  
O wife look how our Daughter bleeds!  
This Dagger hath mistaine, for lo his house  
Is empty on the back of Montague,  
And is misheathed in my Daughter's bosom.  Wife. 
O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell  
That warns my old age to a Sepulchre.  Enter Montague. Pri. 
Come Montague, for thou art early up  
To see thy Son and Heir, now early down.  Moun. 
Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night,  
Grief of my Son's exile hath stopped her breath:  
What further woe conspires against my age?  Prin. 
Look: and thou shalt see.  Moun. 
O thou untaught, what manners in is this,  
To press before thy Father to a grave?  Prin. 
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? mean time forbear,  
And let mischance be slave to patience,  
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.  Fri. 
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.  Prin. 
Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?  Fri. 
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's Romeos faithful wife:  
I married them; and their stolen marriage day  
Was Tybalts Doomsday: whose untimely death  
Banished the newmade Bridegroom from this City:  
For whom (and not for Tybalt) juliet pined.  
You, to remove that siege of Grief from her,  
Betrothed, and would have married her perforce  
To County Paris. Then comes she to me,  
And (with wild looks) bid me device some means  
To rid her from this second Marriage,  
Or in my Cell there would she kill herself.  
Then gave I her (so Tutored by my Art)  
A sleeping Potion, which so took effect  
As I intended, for it wrought on her  
The form of death. Mean time, I writ to Romeo,  
That he should hither come, as this dire night,  
To help to take her from her borrowed grave,  
Being the time the Potions force should cease.  
But he which bore my Letter, friar john,  
Was stayed by accident; and yesternight  
Returned 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 the time,  
Unto the rigour of severest Law.  Prin. 
We still have known thee for a Holy man.  
Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this?  Boy. 
I brought my Master news of juliets 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,  
If I departed not, and left him there.  Prin. 
Give me the Letter, I will look on it.  
Where is the Counties 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 open the Tomb,  
And by and by my Master drew on him,  
And then I ran away to call the Watch.  Prin. 
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 dye, 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 punished.  Cap. 
O Brother Montague, give me thy hand,  
This is my Daughter's jointure, for no more  
Can I demand.  Moun. 
But I can give thee more:  
For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold,  
That whiles Verona by that name is known,  
There shall no figure at that Rate be set,  
As that of True and Faithful juliet.  Cap. 
As rich shall Romeo by his Lady lie,  
Poor sacrifices of our enmity.  Prin. 
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 pardoned, and some punished.  
For never was a Story of more Woe,  
Then this of juliet, and her Romeo.  Exeunt omnes   
FINIS.   

THE LIFE OF TIMON OF ATHENS.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Poet, Painter, jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at several doors. Poet. 
GOod day Sir.  Pain. 
I am glad you're well.  Poet. 
I have not seen you long, how goes the World?  Pain. 
It wears sir, as it grows.  Poet. 
I 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.  Pain. 
I know them both: th' others a jeweller.  Mer. 
O 'tis a worthy Lord.  Iew. 
Nay that's most fixed.  Mer. 
A most incomparable man, breathed as it were,  
To an untyreable and continuate goodness:  
He passes.  Iew. 
I have a jewel here.  Mer. 
O pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir?  jewel. 
If he will touch the estimate. But for that—  Poet. 
When we for recompense have praised the vild,  
It stains the glory in that happy Verse,  
Which aptly sings the good.  Mer. 
'Tis a good form.  jewel. 
And rich: here is a Water look ye.  Pain. 
You are rapt sir, in some work, some Dedication to the great Lord.  Poet. 
A thing slipped idly from me.  
Our Poesy is as a Gown, which uses  
From whence 'tis nourished: the fire i' th' Flint  
Shows not, till it be strooke: our gentle flame  
Provokes itself, and like the currant flies  
Each bound it chases. What have you there?  Pain. 
A Picture sir: when comes your Book forth?  Poet. 
Upon the heels of my presentment sir.  
Let's see your piece.  Pain 
'Tis a good Piece.  Poet. 
So 'tis, this comes off well, and excellent.  Pain. 
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 th' dumbness of the gesture,  
One might interpret.  Pain. 
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  
Life's in these toutches, livelier than life.  Enter certain Senators. Pain. 
How this Lord is followed.  Poet. 
The Senators of Athens, happy men.  Pain. 
Look moe.  Po. 
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 levelled malice  
Infects one comma in the course I hold,  
But flies an Eagle flight, bold, and forth on,  
Leaving no Tract behind.  Pain. 
How shall I understand you?  Poet. 
I will unboult 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 glasse-faced Flatterer  
To Apemantus, that few things louest better  
Then to abhor himself; even he drops down  
The knee before him, and returns in peace  
Most rich in Timon's nod.  Pain. 
I saw them speak together.  Poet. 
Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill  
Feigned Fortune to be throned.  
The Base o' th' Mount  
Is ranked 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 fixed,  
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.  Pain. 
'Tis conceived, to scope  
This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinks  
With one man beckoned from the rest below,  
Bowing his head against the steepy Mount  
To climb his happiness, would be well expressed  
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  
Fellow 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.  Pain. 
I marry, what of these?  Poet. 
When Fortune in her shift and change of mood  
Spurns down her late beloved; all his Dependants  
Which laboured after him to the Mountain's top,  
Even on their knees and hand, let him sit down,  
Not one accompanying his declining foot.  Pain. 
'tis common:  
A thousand moral Paintings I can show,  
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortunes,  
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,  
To show Lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen  
The foot above the head.  Trumpet's sound. Enter Lord Timon, addressing himself courteously to every Suitor. Tim. 
Imprisoned is he, say you?  Mes. 
I my good Lord, five Talents is his debt,  
His means most short, his Creditors most straight:  
Your Honourable Letter he desires  
To those have shut him up, which failing,  
Periods his comfort.  Tim. 
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.  Mes. 
Your Lordship ever binds him.  Tim. 
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. Far you well.  Mes. 
All happiness to your Honor.  Exit. Enter an old Athenian. Oldm. 
Lord Timon, hear me speak.  Tim. 
Freely good Father.  Oldm. 
Thou hast a Servant named Lucilius.  Tim. 
I have so: What of him?  Oldm. 
Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee.  Tim. 
Attends he here, or no? lucilius.  Luc. 
here at your Lordship's service.  Oldm. 
This Fellow here, L. 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,  
Then one which holds a Trencher.  Tim. 
Well: what further?  Old. 
One only Daughter have I, no Kin else,  
On whom I may confer what I have got:  
The Maid is fair, o' th' 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.  Tim. 
The man is honest.  Oldm. 
Therefore he will be Timon,  
His honesty rewards him in itself,  
It must not bear my Daughter.  Tim. 
Does she love him?  Oldm. 
She is young and apt:  
Our own precedent passions do instruct us  
What levities' in youth.  Tim. 
Love you the Maid?  Luc. 
I my good Lord, and she accepts of it.  Oldm. 
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.  Tim. 
How shall she be endowed,  
If she be mated with an equal Husband?  Oldm. 
Three Talents on the present; in future, all.  Tim. 
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.  Oldm. 
Most Noble Lord,  
Pawn me to this your Honour, she is his.  Tim. 
My hand to thee,  
Mine Honour on my promise.  Luc. 
Humbly I thank your Lordship, never may  
That state or Fortune fall into my keeping,  
Which is not owed to you.  Exit Poet. 
Vouchsafe my Labour,  
And long live your Lordship.  Tim. 
I thank you, you shall hear from me anon:  
Go not away. What have you there, my Friend?  Pain. 
A piece of Painting, which I do beseech  
Your Lordship to accept.  Tim. 
Painting is welcome.  
The Painting is almost the Natural man:  
For since Dishonour Traffickes' with man's Nature,  
He is but outside: These Penciled 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.  Pain. 
The Gods preserve ye.  Tim. 
Well far you Gentleman: give me your hand.  
We must needs dine together: sir your jewel  
Hath suffered under praise.  jewel. 
What my Lord, dispraise?  Tim. 
A mere satiety of Commendations,  
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extolled,  
It would unclew me quite.  jewel. 
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. Bel dear Lord,  
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.  Tim. 
Well mocked.  Enter Apermantus. Mer. 
No my good Lord, he speaks the common tongue  
Which all men speak with him.  Tim. 
Look who comes here, will you be chid?  jewel. 
we'll bear with your Lordship.  Mer. 
he'll spare none.  Tim. 
Good morrow to thee,  
Gentle Apermantus.  Ape. 
Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow.  
When thou art Timon's dog, and these Knaves honest.  Tim. 
Why dost thou call them Knaves, thou knowst them not?  Ape. 
Are they not Athenians?  Tim. 
Yes.  Ape. 
Then I repent not.  Iew. 
You know me, Apemantus?  Ape. 
Thou knowst I do, I called thee by thy name.  Tim. 
Thou art proud Apemantus?  Ape. 
Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon  Tim. 
Whether art going?  Ape. 
To knock out an honest Athenians brains.  Tim. 
That's a deed thou'lt dye for.  Ape. 
Right, if doing nothing be death by th' Law.  Tim. 
How lik'st thou this picture Apemantus?  Ape. 
The best▪ for the innocence.  Tim. 
Wrought he not well that painted it.  Ape. 
He wrought better that made the Painter, and yet he's but a filthy piece of work.  Pain. 
YE are a Dog.  Ape. 
Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if I be a Dog?  Tim. 
Wilt dine with me Apemantus?  Ape. 
No: I eat not Lords.  Tim. 
And thou shouldst, thou'dst anger Ladies.  Ape. 
O they eat Lords;  
So they come by great bellies.  Tim. 
That's a lascivious apprehension.  Ape. 
So, thou apprehendest it,  
Take it for thy labour.  Tim. 
How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?  Ape. 
Not so well as plaindealing, which will not cast a man a Doit.  Tim. 
What dost thou think 'tis worth?  Ape. 
Not worth my thinking.  
How now Poet?  Poet. 
How now Philosopher?  Ape. 
Thou liest.  Poet. 
Art not one?  Ape. 
Yes.  Poet. 
Then I lie not.  Ape. 
Art not a Poet?  Poet. 
Yes.  Ape. 
Then thou liest:  
Look in thy last work, where thou hast fegined him a worthy Fellow.  Poet. 
That's not feigned, he is so.  Ape. 
Yes he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He that love's to be flattered, is worthy o' th' flatterer. Heavens, that I were a Lord.  Tim. 
What wouldst do then Apemantus?  Ape. 
E'en as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with my heart.  Tim. 
What thyself?  Ape. 
I.  Tim. 
Wherefore?  Ape. 
That I had no angry wit to be a Lord.  
Art not thou a Merchant?  Mer. 
I Apemantus.  Ape. 
Traffic confound thee, if the Gods will not.  Mer. 
If Traffic do it, the Gods do it.  Ape. 
Traffickes' thy God, & thy God confound thee.  Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger. Tim. 
What Trumpets that?  Mes. 
'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty Horse  
All of Companionship.  Tim. 
Pray entertain them, give them guide to us.  
You must needs dine with me: go not you hence  
Till I have thanked you: when dinners done  
Show me this piece▪ I am joyful of your sights.  Enter Alcibiades with the rest. 
Most welcome Sir.  Ape. 
So, so; their Aches contract, and starve your supple joints: that there should be small love amongst these sweet Knaves, and all this Courtesy. The strain of man's bred out into Baboon and Monkey.  Alc. 
Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed  
Most hungerly on your sight.  Tim. 
Right welcome Sir:  
Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time  
In different pleasures.  
Pray you let us in.  Exeunt. Enter two Lords. 1. Lord 
What time a day is't Apemantus?  Ape. 
Time to be honest.  1 
That time serves still.  Ape. 
The most accursed thou that still omitst it.  2 
Thou art going to Lord Timon's Feast.  Ape. 
I, to see meat fill Knaves, and Wine heat fools.  2 
Farthee well, farthee well.  Ape. 
Thou art a Fool to bid me farewell twice.  2 
Why Apemantus?  Ape. 
Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.  1 
Hang thyself.  Ape. 
No I will do nothing at thy bidding:  
Make thy requests to thy Friend.  2 
Away unpeaceable Dog,  
Or I'll spurn thee hence.  Ape. 
I will fly like a dog, the heels o' th' Ass.  1 
he's opposite to humanity.  
Comes shall we in,  
And ●aste Lord Timon's bounty: he outgoes  
The very heart of kindness.  2 
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.  1 
The Noblest mind he carries,  
That ever governed man.  2 
Long may he live in Fortunes. Shall we in?  
I'll keep you Company.  Exeunt. Oboes Playing loud Music. A great Banquet served in: and then, Enter Lord Timon, the States, the Athenian Lords, Ventigius which Timon redeemed from prison. Then comes dropping after all Apemantus discontentedly like himself. Ventig. 
Most honoured 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 thankes and service, from whose help  
I derived liberty.  Tim. 
O by no means,  
Honest Ventigius: 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.  Vint. 
A Noble spirit.  Tim. 
Nay my Lords, 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,  
Then my Fortunes to me.  1. Lord. 
My Lord, we always have confessed it.  Aper. 
Ho ho, confessed it? Handged it? Have you not?  Timo. 
O Apermantus, you are welcome.  Aper. 
No: You shall not make me welcome:  
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.  Tim. 
Fie, th' art a churl, ye ' have got a humour there  
Does not become a man, 'tis much too blame:  
They say my Lords, Irafuror brevis est,  
But yond man is very angry.  
Go, let him have a Table by himself:  
For he does neither affect company,  
Nor is he fit for't indeed.  Aper. 
Let me stay at thine peril Timon,  
I come to observe, I give thee warning on't.  Tim. 
I take no heed of thee: The art an Athenian, therefore welcome: I myself would have no power, prithee let my meat make thee silent.  Aper. 
I scorn thy meat, 'twould choke me: for I should ne'er flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number of men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not? It grieves me to see so many dip there meat in one man's blood, and all the madness is, he cheers them up too.  
I wonder men dare trust themselves with men.  
Me thinks they should invite them without knives,  
Good for there 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'ad been▪ proved, if I were a huge man I should fear to drink at meals, lest they should spy my windpipes dangerous notes, great men should drink with harness on their throats.  Tim. 
My Lord in heart: and let the health go round.  2. Lord. 
Let it flow this way my good Lord.  Aper. 
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' th' mire:  
This and my food are equals, there's no odds,  
Feasts are to proud to give thanks to the Gods.  

Apermantus 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 asleeping,  
Or a keeper with my freedom,  
Or my friends if I should need 'em.  
Amen.   
So fall too't:  
Rich-men sin, and I eat root.  
Much good dyke thy good heart, Apermantus  Tim. 
Captain, Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now.  Alci. 
My heart is ever at your service, my Lord.  Tim. 
You had rather be at a breakfast of Enemies, than a dinner of Friends.  Alc. 
So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no meat like 'em, I could wish my best friend at such a Feast.  Aper. 
Would all those Flatterers were thine Enemies then, that then thou mightst kill 'em: & bid me to 'em.  1. 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. 
Oh 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 fare I confirm you. Oh 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 keeps there sounds to themselves. Why I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you: we are borne to do benefits. And what better or properer can we call our own, than the richer of our Friends? Oh what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many like Brother's commanding one another's Fortunes. Oh joys, e'en made away ere't can be borne: mine eyes cannot hold out wate●me thinks▪ to forget their Faults. I drink to you.  Aper. 
Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon.  2. Lord. 
joy had the like conception in our eyes,  
And at that instant, like a babe sprung up.  Aper. 
Ho, ho: I laugh to think that babe a bastard.  3. Lord. 
I promise you my Lord you moved me much.  Aper. 
Much.  Sound Tucket. Enter the Maskers of Amazons, with Lutes in their hands, dancing and playing. Tim. 
What means that Trump? How now?  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Please you my Lord, there are certain Ladies  
Most desirous of admittance.  Tim. 
Ladies? what are their wills?  Ser. 
There comes with them a forerunner my Lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.  Tim. 
I pray let them be admitted.  Enter Cupid with the Mask of Ladies. Cup. 
Hail to thee worthy Timon and to all that of his Bounties taste: the five best Sencesa cknowledge thee their Patron, and come freely to gratulate thy plenteous bosom.  
There taste, touch all pleased from thy Table rise:  
They only now come but to Feast thine eyes.  Timo. 
They're wecome all, let 'em have kind admittance. Music make their welcome.  Luc. 
You see my Lord, how ample ye are beloved.  Aper. 
Heyday,  
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 Enuy.  
Who life's, that's not depraved, or depraves;  
Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves  
Of their Friend's gift:  
I should fear, those that dance before me now,  
Would one day stamp upon me: 'T'ad 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 single out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with women, a lofty strain or two to the Oboes, and cease. Tim. 
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 entertained me with mine own device.  
I am to thank you for't.  1 Lord. 
My Lord you take us even at the best.  Aper. 
Faith for the worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me.  Tim. 
Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you,  
Please you to dispose yourselves.  All La. 
Most thankfully, my Lord.  Exeunt. Tim. 
Flavius.  Fla. 
My Lord.  Tim. 
The little Casket bring me hither.  Fla. 
Yes, my Lord. More jewels yet?  
There is no crossing him in's humour,  
Else I should tell him well, i'faith I should;  
When all's spent, he'd be crossed then, and he could:  
'Tis pity Bounty had not eyes behind,  
That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.  Exit. 1 Lord. 
Where be our men?  Ser. 
here my Lord, in readiness.  2 Lord. 
Our Horses.  Tim. 
O my Friends:  
I have one word to say to you: Look you, my good L.  
I must entreat you honour me so much,  
As to advance this jewel, accept it, and wear it,  
Kind my Lord.  1 Lord. 
I am so fare already in your gifts.  All. 
So are we all.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
My Lord, there are certain Nobles of the Senate newly alighted, and come to visit you.  Tim. 
They are fairly welcome.  Enter Flavius. Fla. 
I beseech your Honour, vouchsafe me a word, it does concern you near.  Tim. 
near? why then another time I'll hear thee.  
I prithee let's be provided to show them entertainment.  Fla. 
I scarce know how.  Enter another Servant. Ser. 
May it please your Honour, Lord Lucius●  
(Out of his free love) hath presented to you  
Four Milk-white Horses, trapped in Silver.  Tim. 
I shall accept them fairly: let the Presents  
Be worthily entertained.  Enter a third Servant. 
How now? What news?  3. Ser. 
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.  Tim. 
I'll hunt with him,  
And let them be received, not without fair Reward.  Fla. 
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,  
Then such that do e'en Enemies exceed.  
I bleed inwardly for my Lord.  Exit Tim. 
You do yourselves much wrong,  
You bate too much of your own merits.  
here my Lord, a trifle of our Love..  2. Lord. 
With more than common thankes  
I will receive it.  3. Lord. 
O he's the very soul of Bounty.  Tim. 
And now I remember my Lord, you gave good words the other day of a Bay Courser I rod on. 'tis yours because you liked it.  1 L. 
Oh, I beseech you pardon me, my Lord, in that.  Tim. 
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 Lor. 
O none so welcome.  Tim. 
I take all, and your several visitations  
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give:  
Me thinks, 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 pitched field.  Alc. 
I, defiled Land, my Lord.  1. Lord. 
We are so virtuously bound.  Tim. 
And so am I to you.  2. Lord. 
So infinitely endeared.  Tim. 
All to you. Lights, more Lights.  1. Lord. 
The best of Happiness, Honour, and Fortunes  
Keep with you Lord Timon.  Tim. 
Ready for his Friends.  Exeunt Lords Aper. 
What a coiles here, serving of becks, and iutting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legs be worth the sums that are given for 'em.  
Friendships' full of dregges,  
Me thinks false hearts, should never have sound legs.  
Thus honest Fools lay out their wealth on Curtsies.  Tim. 
Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen)  
I would be good to thee.  Aper. 
No, I'll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail uponthee, and then thou wouldst sinne the faster. Thou giv'st so long Timon (I fear me) thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these Feasts, pomps, and Vaineglories?  Tim. 
Nay, and you begin to rail on Society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Music.  Exit Aper. 
So: Thou wilt not hear me now, thou shalt not then. I'll lock thy heaven from thee:  
Oh that men's ears should be  
To Counsel deaf, but not to Flattery.  Exit Enter a Senator. Sen. 
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 Foles me strait  
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 sound his state in safety. Caphis hoa,  
Caphis I say.  Enter Caphis. Ca 
here sir, what is your pleasure.  Sen. 
Get on your cloak, & hast you to Lord Timon,  
Importune him for my Monies, 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 tossed and turned 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.  Ca 
I go sir.  Sen. 
I go sir?  
Take the Bonds along with you,  
And have the dates in. Come.  Ca 
I will Sir.  Sen. 
Go.  Exeunt Enter Steward, with many bills in his hand. Stew. 
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 resume 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, Isidore, and Varro. Cap. 
Good even Varro: what, you come for money?  Var. 
Is't not your business too?  Cap. 
It is, and yours too, Isidore?  Isid. 
It is so.  Cap. 
Would we were all discharged.  Var. 
I fear it,  Cap. 
here comes the Lord.  Enter Timon, and his Train. Tim. 
So soon as dinners done, we'll forth again  
My Alcibiades. With me, what is your will?  Cap. 
My Lord, here is a note of certain dues.  Tim. 
Dues? whence are you?  Cap. 
Of Athens here, my Lord.  Tim. 
Go to my Steward.  Cap. 
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.  Tim. 
Mine honest Friend,  
I prithee but repair to me next morning.  Cap. 
Nay, good my Lord.  Tim. 
Contain thyself, good Friend.  Var. 
One Varroes' servant, my good Lord.  Isid. 
From Isidore, he humbly prays your speedy payment.  Cap. 
If you did know my Lord, my Master's wants.  Var. 
'Twas due on forfeiture my Lord, six weeks, and past.  Isi. 
Your Steward puts me off my Lord, and I  
Am sent expressly to your Lordship.  Tim. 
Give me breath:  
I do beseech you good my Lords keep on,  
I'll wait upon you instantly. Come hither: pray you  
How goes the world, that I am thus encountered  
With clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds,  
And the detention of long since due debts  
Against my Honour?  Stew. 
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.  Tim. 
Do so my Friends, see them well entertained.  Stew. 
Pray draw near.  Exit. Enter Apemantus and Foole. Caph. 
Stay, stay, here comes the Fool with Apemantus, let's ha' some sport with 'em.  Var. 
Hang him, he'll abuse us.  Isid. 
A plague upon him dog.  Var. 
How dost Fool?  Ape. 
Dost Dialogue with thy shadow?  Var. 
I speak not to thee.  Ape. 
No 'tis to thyself. Come away.  Isi. 
There's the Fool hangs on your back already.  Ape. 
No thou standest single, th' art not on him yet.  Cap. 
Where's the Fool now?  Ape. 
He last asked the question. Poor Rogues, and Usurer's men, Bawds between Gold and want.  Al. 
What are we Apemantus?  Ape. 
Asses.  All. 
Why?  Ape, 
That you ask me what you are, & do not know yourselves. Speak to 'em Foole.  Foole. 
How do you Gentlemen?  All. 
Gramercies good Fool:  
How does your Mistress?  Foole. 
She's e'en setting on water to scaled such Chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth.  Ape. 
Good, Gramercy.  Enter Page. Foole. 
Look you, here comes my Master's Page.  Page. 
Why how now Captain? what do you in this wise Company.  
How dost thou Apermantus?  Ape. 
Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.  Boy. 
Prithee Apemantus read me the superscription of these Letters, I know not which is which.  Ape. 
Canst not read?  Page. 
No.  Ape. 
There will little Learning dye then that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go thou was't borne a Bastard, and thou'lt dye a Bawd.  Page. 
Thou was't whelped a Dog, and thou shalt famish a Dog's death.  
Answer not, I am gone.  Exit Ape. 
E'en so thou out-runst Grace,  
Fool I will go with you to Lord Timon's.  Foole. 
Will you leave me there?  Ape. 
If Timon stay at home.  
You three serve three Usurers?  All. 
I would they served us.  Ape. 
So would I:  
As good a trick as ever Hangman served Thief.  Foole. 
Are you three Usurers men?  All. 
I Foole.  Foole. 
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 Master's house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this?  Var. 
I could render one.  Ap. 
Do it then, that we may account thee a Whoremaster, and a Knave, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no less esteemed.  Varro. 
What is a Whoremaster Fool?  Foole. 
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.  Var. 
Thou art not altogether a Foole.  Foole. 
Nor thou altogether a Wise man,  
As much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest.  Ape. 
That answer might have become Apemantus.  All. 
Aside, aside, here comes Lord Timon.  Enter Timon and Steward. Ape. 
Come with me (Fool) come.  Foole. 
I do not always follow Lover, elder Brother, and Woman, sometime the Philosopher.  Stew. 
Pray you walk en ere,  
I'll speak with you anon.  Exeunt. Tim. 
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.  Stew. 
You would not hear me:  
At many leisures I propose.  Tim. 
Go too:  
Perchance some single vantages you took,  
When my indisposition put you back,  
And that unaptness made your minister  
Thus to excuse yourself.  Stew. 
O my good Lord,  
At many times I brought in my accounts,  
Laid them before you, you would throw them off,  
And say you sound them in mine honesty,  
When for some trifling present you have bid me  
Return so much, I have shaken my head, and wept:  
Yea 'gainst th' Authority of manners, prayed you  
To hold your hand more close: I did endure  
Not seldom, nor no flight checks, 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 news a time,  
The greatest of your having, lacks a half,  
To pay your present debts.  Tim. 
Let all my Land be sold.  Stew. 
'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?  Tim. 
To Lacedaemon did my Land extend.  Stew. 
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.  Tim. 
You tell me true.  Stew. 
If you suspect my Husbandry or Falsehood,  
Call me before th' exactest Auditors,  
And set me on the proof. So the Gods bless me,  
When all our Offices have been oppressed  
With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults have wept  
With drunken spilth of Wine; when every room  
Hath blazed with Lights, and braid with Minstrelsy,  
I have retired me to a wasteful cock,  
And set mine eyes at flow.  Tim. 
Prithee no more.  Stew. 
Heaven's 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 L. 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 couched.  Tim. 
Come sermon me no further.  
No villainous bounty yet hath past my heart;  
Unwisely, not ignobly have I given.  
Why dost thou weep, canst thou the conscience lacke,  
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.  Ste. 
Assurance bless your thoughts.  Tim. 
And in some sort these wants of mine are crowned,  
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, Flavius, Servilius?  Enter three Servants. Ser. 
My Lord, my Lord.  Tim. 
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.  Flam. 
As you have said, my Lord.  Stew. 
Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh.  Tim. 
Go you sir to the Senators;  
Of whom, even to the States best health; I have  
Deserved this Hearing: bid 'em send o' th' instant  
A thousand Talents to me.  Ste, 
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.  Tim. 
Is't true? Can't be?  Stew. 
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 wished, 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 halfe-caps, and cold moving nods,  
They froze me into Silence.  Tim. 
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 fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.  
Go to Ventiddius (prithee be not sad,  
Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I speak,  
No blame belongs to thee:) Ventiddius lately  
Buried his Father, by whose death he's stepped  
Into a great estate: When he was poor,  
Imprisoned, and in scarcity of Friends,  
I cleared him with five Talents: Greet him from me,  
Bid him suppose, some good necessity  
Touches his Friend, which craves to be remembered  
With those five Talents; 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.  Stew. 
I would I could not think it:  
That thought is Bounty's Foe;  
Being free itself, it thinks all others so.  Exeunt Flaminius waiting to speak with a Lord from his Master, enters a servant to him. Ser. 
I have told my Lord of you, he is coming down to you.  Flam. 
I thank you Sir.  Enter Lucullus. Ser. 
here's my Lord.  Luc. 
One of Lord Timon's men? A Gift I warrant. Why this hits right: I dreamt of a Silver Bason & Ewer to night. Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively welcome sir. Fill me some Wine. And how does that Honourable, Complete, Freehearted Gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good Lord and Master?  Flam. 
His health is well sir.  Luc. 
I am right glad that his health is well sir: and what hast thou there under thy Cloak, pretty Flaminius?  Flam. 
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.  Luc. 
La, lafoy, lafoy, 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.  Enter Servant with Wine. Ser. 
Please your Lordship, here is the Wine.  Luc. 
Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise.  
here's to thee.  Flam. 
Your Lordship speaks your pleasure.  Luc. 
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; get you gone sirrah. Draw nearer honest Flaminius. Thy Lords a bountiful Gentleman, but thou art wise, and thou knowst well enough (although thou comest to me) that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security. Here's three Solidars for thee, good Boy wink at me, and say thou saw'st me not. Far thee well.  Flam. 
Is't possible the world should so much differ,  
And we alive that lived? Fly damned baseness  
To him that worships thee.  Luc. 
Ha'? Now I see thou art a Fool, and sit for thy Master.  Exit L. Flame 
May these add to the number that may scald thee:  
Let molten 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 my 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 turned 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. Enter Lucius with three strangers. Luc. 
Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend and an Honourable Gentleman.  1 
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 passed, and his estate shrinks from him.  Lucius. 
Fie no, do not believe it: he cannot want for money.  2 
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 shown what necessity belonged too't, and yet was denied.  Luci. 
How?  2 
I tell you, denied my Lord.  Luci. 
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. Servile. 
See, by good hap yonder's my Lord, I have sweat to see his Honor. My Honoured Lord.  Lucil. 
Servilius? You are kindly met sir. Farthewell, commend me to thy Honourable virtuous Lord, my very exquisite Friend.  Servile. 
May it please your Honour, my Lord hath sent—  Luci. 
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?  Servile. 
Has only sent his present Occasion now my Lord: requesting your Lordship to supply his instant use with so many Talents.  Lucil. 
I know his Lordship is but merry with me,  
He cannot want fifty five hundred Talents.  Servile. 
But in the mean time he wants less my Lord.  
If his occasion were not virtuous,  
I should not urge it half so faithfully.  Luc. 
Dost thou speak seriously Servilius?  Servile. 
Upon my soul, 'tis true Sir.  Luci. 
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 Honour? 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 doneed 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 fare, as to use mine own words to him?  Ser. 
Yes sir, I shall.  Exit Servile. Lucil. 
I'll look you out a good turn Servilius.  
True as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed,  
And he that's once denied, will hardly speed.  Exit. 1 
Do you observe this Hostilius?  2 
I, to well.  1 
Why this is the world's soul,  
And just of the same piece  
Is every Flatterers sport: 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, oh 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.  3 
Religion groans at it.  1 
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 returned 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. Enter a third servant with Sempronius, another of Timon's Friends. Semp. 
Must he needs trouble me in't? Hum.  
'Boue all others?  
He might have tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus,  
And now Ventidgius is wealthy too,  
Whom he redeemed from prison. All these  
Owes their estates unto him.  Ser. 
My Lord,  
They have all been touched, and found Base-Mettle,  
For they have all denied him.  Semp. 
How? Have they denied him?  
Has Ventidgius and Lucullus denied him,  
And does he send to me? Three? Humh?  
It shows but little love, or judgement in him.  
Must I be his last Refuge? His Friends (like Physicians)  
Thrive, give him over: Must I take th' 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 Occasions might have wooed me first:  
For in my conscience, I was the first man  
That ere received gift from him.  
And does he think so backwardly of me now,  
That I'll requite it last? No:  
So it may prove an Argument of Laughter  
To th' rest, and 'mong'st Lords be thought a Fool:  
I'd 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 bats mine Honour, shall not know my Coin.  Exit Ser. 
Excellent: Your Lordships 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 Lords 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 employed  
Now to guard sure their Master:  
And this is all a liberal course allows,  
Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house.  Exit. Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timon's Creditors to wait for his coming out. Then enter Lucius and Hortensius. Var. man. 
Well met, good-morrow Titus & Hortensius  Tit. 
The like to you kind Varro.  Hort. 
Lucius, what do we meet together?  Luci. 
I, and I think one business does command us all.  
For mine is money.  Tit. 
So is theirs, and ours.  Enter Philotus. Luci. 
And sir Philotus too.  Phil. 
Good day at once.  Luci. 
Welcome good Brother.  
What do you think the hour?  Phil. 
Labouring for Nine.  Luci. 
So much?  Phil. 
Is not my Lord seen yet?  Luci. 
Not yet.  Phil. 
I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seven.  Luci. 
I, but the days are waxed shorter with him:  
You must consider, that a Prodigal course  
Is like the Suns, 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.  Phil. 
I am of your fear, for that.  Tit. 
I'll show you how t' observe a strange event:  
Your Lord sends now for Money?  Hort. 
Most true, he does.  Tit. 
And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,  
For which I wait for money.  Hort. 
It is against my heart.  Luci. 
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.  Hort. 
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. 
Yes, mine's three thousand Crowns:  
What's yours?  Luci. 
Five thousand mine.  Varro. 
'Tis much deep, and it should seem by th' sum  
Your Master's confidence was above mine,  
Else surely his had equalled.  Enter Flaminius'. Tit. 
One of Lord Timon's men.  Luc. 
Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord ready to come forth?  Flam. 
No, indeed he is not.  Tit. 
We attend his Lordship: pray signify so much.  Flam. 
I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent.  Enter Steward in a Cloak, muffled. Luci. 
Ha': is not that his Steward muffled so?  
He goes away in a Cloud: Call him, call him.  Tit. 
Do you hear, sir?  2. Varro. 
By your leave, sir.  Stew. 
What do ye ask of me, my Friend.  Tit. 
We wait for certain Money here, sir.  Stew. 
I, if Money were as certain as your waiting,  
'Twere sure enough.  
Why then preferred 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 th' Interest into their glutt'nous 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.  Luci. 
I, but this answer will not serve.  Stew. 
If't 'twill not serve, 'tis not so base as you,  
For you serve Knaves.  1. Varro. 
How? What does his cashiered Worship mutter?  2. Varro. 
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. Tit. 
Oh here's Servilius: now we shall know some answer.  Seru. 
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.  Luci. 
Many do keep their Chambers, are not sick:  
And if it be so fare beyond his health,  
Me thinks he should the sooner pay his debts,  
And make a clear way to the Gods.  Servile. 
Good Gods.  Titus. 
We cannot take this for answer, sir.  Flaminius' within. 
Servilius help, my Lord, my Lord.  Enter Timon in a rage. Tim▪ 
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?  Luci. 
Put in now Titus.  Tit. 
My Lord, here is my Bill.  Luci. 
Here's mine.  1. Var. 
And mine, my Lord.  2. Var. 
And ours, my Lord.  Philo. 
All our Bills.  Tim. 
Knock me down with 'em, cleave me to the Girdle.  Luc. 
Alas, my Lord.  Tim. 
Cut my heart in sums.  Tit. 
Mine, fifty Talents.  Tim. 
Tell out my blood.  Luc. 
Five thousand Crowns, my Lord.  Tim. 
Five thousand drops pays that.  
What yours? and yours?  1. Var. 
My Lord.  2. Var. 
My Lord.  Tim. 
Tear me, take me, and the Gods fall upon you.  Exit Timon. Hort. 
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. Enter Timon. Timon. 
They have e'en put my breath from me the slaves. Creditors? Devils.  Stew. 
My dear Lord.  Tim. 
What if it should be so?  Stew. 
My Lord.  Tim. 
I'll have it so. My Steward?  Stew. 
here my Lord.  Tim. 
So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends again,  
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: All,  
I'll once more feast the Rascals.  Stew. 
O my Lord, you only speak from your distracted soul; there's not so much left to, furnish out a moderate Table.  Tim. 
Be it 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 Enter three Senators at one door, Alcibiades meeting them, with Attendants. 1. Sen. 
My Lord, you have my voice, too't,  
The faults Bloody:  
'Tis necessary he should dye:  
Nothing emboldens sin so much, as Mercy.  2 
Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em.  Alc. 
Honour, health, and compassion to the Senate.  1 
Now Captain.  Alc. 
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 stepped 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,  
(And Honour in him, which buys out his fault)  
But with a Noble Fury, and fair spirit,  
Seeing his Reputation touched to death,  
He did oppose his Foe:  
And with such sober and unnoted passion  
He did behoove his anger ere 'twas spent,  
As if he had but proved an Argument.  1 Sen. 
You undergo too strict a Paradox,  
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:  
Your words have taken such pains, as if they laboured  
To bring Manslaughter into form, and set Quarrelling  
Upon the head of Valour; which indeed  
Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world,  
When Sects, and Factions were newly borne.  
he's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer  
The worst that man can breathe,  
And make his Wrongs, his Out-sider,  
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 iii.  Alci. 
My Lord.  1. Sen. 
You cannot make gross sins look clear,  
To revenge is no Valour, but to bear.  Alci. 
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 fellow loaden with Irons, wiser than the judge?  
If Wisdom be in suffering, Oh 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.  2. Sen. 
You breath in vain.  Alci. 
In vain?  
His service done at Lacedaemon, and Byzantium,  
Were a sufficient briber for his life.  1 
What's that?  Alc. 
Why say my Lords 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?  2 
He has made too much plenty with him:  
He's a sworn Riotor, 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 inferred to us,  
His days are foul, and his drink dangerous.  1 
He dies.  Alci. 
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 Honour to you  
Upon his good returns.  
If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life,  
Why let the War receiueed in valiant gore,  
For Law is strict, and War is nothing more.  1 
We are for Law, he dies, urge it no more  
On height of our displeasure: Friend, or Brother,  
He forfeits his own blood, that spill another.  Alc. 
Must it be so? It must not be:  
My Lords, I do beseech you know me.  2 
How?  Alc. 
Call me to your remembrances.  3 
What.  Alc. 
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.  1 
Do you dare our anger?  
'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect:  
We banish thee for ever.  Alc. 
Banish me?  
Banish your dotage, banish usury,  
That makes the Senate ugly.  1 
If after two days shine, Athens contain thee,  
Attend our weightier judgement.  
And not to swell our Spirit,  
He shall be executed presently.  Exeunt. Alc. 
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  
Powers into Captain's wounds? Banishment.  
It comes not ill: I hate not to be banished,  
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. Enter diverse Friends at several doors. 1 
The good time of day to you, sir.  2 
I also wish it to you: I think this Honourable Lord did but try us this other day.  1 
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.  2 
It should not be, by the persuasion of his new Feasting.  1 
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.  2 
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.  1 
I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.  2 
Every man hears so: what would he have borrowed of you?  1 
A thousand Pieces.  2 
A thousand Pieces?  1 
What of you?  2 
He sent to me sir— here he comes.  Enter Timon and Attendants. Tim. 
With all my heart Gentlemen both; and how far you?  1 
Ever at the best, hearing well of your Lordship.  2 
The Swallow follows not Summer more willing, than we your Lordship.  Tim. 
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 far so harshly o' th' Trumpets sound: we shall too't presently.  1 
I hope it remains not unkindly with your Lordship, that I returned you an empty Messenger.  Tim. 
O sir, let it not trouble you.  2 
My Noble Lord.  Tim. 
Ah my good Friend, what cheer?  The Banquet brought in. 2 
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.  Tim. 
Think not on't, sir.  2 
If you had sent but two hours before.  Tim. 
Let it not cumber your better remembrance.  
Come bring in all together.  2 
All covered Dishes.  1 
Royal Cheer, I warrant you.  3 
Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it  1 
How do you? What's the news?  3 
Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?  B▪ 
Alcibiades banished?  3 
'Tis so, be sure of it.  1 
How? How?  2 
I pray you upon what?  Tim. 
My worthy Friends, will you draw near?  3 
I'll tell you more anon. Here's a Noble feast toward  2 
This is the old man still.  3 
Wilt hold? Wilt hold?  2 
It does: but time will, and so.  3 
I do conceive.  Tim. 
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. Sat, 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 leg 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.  Some speak. 
What does his Lordship mean?  Some other. 
I know not.  Timon. 
May you a better Feast never behold  
You knot of Mouth-Friends: Smoke, & lukewarm water  
Is your perfection. This is Timon's last,  
Who stuck and spangled you with Flatteries,  
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces  
Your reeking villainy. Live loathed, and long  
Most smiling, smooth, detested Parasites,  
Courteous Destroyer's, affable Wolves, meek Bears:  
You Fools of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times Flies,  
Cap and knee-slaves, vapours, and Minute jackes.  
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.  
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 Enter the Senators, with other Lords. 1 
How now, my Lords?  2 
Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury?  3 
Push, did you see my Cap?  4 
I have lost my Gown.  1 
He's but a mad Lord, & nought but humours 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?  2 
Did you see my Cap.  3 
Hear ' 'tis.  4 
here lies my Gown.  1 
Let's make no stay.  2 
Lord Timon's mad.  3 
I feel't upon my bones.  4 
One day he gives us Diamonds, next day stones.  Exeunt the Senators. Enter Timon. Tim. 
Let me look back upon thee. O thou Wall  
That girdles 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 steeds, to general Filthes.  
Convert o' th' 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' th' Brothel. Some 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 yet Confusion live: Plagues incident to men,  
Your potent and infectious Favours, 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,  
So we all th' Athenian bosoms, and their crop  
Be general Leprosy: Breath, infect breath,  
That their Society (as their Friendship) may  
Be merely poison. Nothing I'll bear from thee  
But nakedness, thou detestable Town,  
Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes:  
Timon will to the Woods, where he shall find  
Th' unkindest Beast, more kinder than Mankind.  
The Gods confound (hear me you good Gods all)  
Th' 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. Enter Steward with two or three Servants. 1 
Hear you M. Steward, where's our Master?  
Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?  Stew. 
Alack my Fellows, what should I say to you?  
Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods,  
I am as poor as you.  1 
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.  2 
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 picked; and his poor self  
A dedicated Beggar to the Air,  
With his disease, of all shunned poverty,  
Walks like contempt alone. More of our Fellows.  Enter other Servants. Stew. 
All broken Implements of a ruined house.  3 
Yet do our hearts wear Timon's Livery,  
That see I by our Faces: we are Fellows still,  
Serving alike in sorrow: Leaked 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.  Stew. 
Good Fellows all,  
The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.  
Where ever 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.  Embrace and part several ways. 
Oh 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 mocked 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 varnished 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, do still mar Men.  
My dearest Lord, blessed to be most accursed,  
Rich only to be wretched; thy great Fortunes  
Are made thy chief Afflictions. Alas (kind Lord)  
he's fling 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. Enter Timon in the woods. Tim. 
O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth  
Rotten humidity: below thy Sister's Orb  
Infect the air. Twined 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's shall bear contempt Hereditary,  
The Beggar Native Honor.  
It is the Pastor Lards, the Brother's sides,  
The want that makes him leave: 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 grize of Fortune  
Is smoothed by that below. The Learned pate  
Ducks to the Golden Foole. All's obloquy:  
There's nothing level in our cursed Natures  
But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred,  
All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men.  
His semblable, yea himself Timon disdains,  
Destruction phang mankind; Earth yield me Roots,  
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; fowl, 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 th' accursed,  
Make the hoar Leprosy adored, place Thiefs,  
And give them Title, knee, and approbation  
With Senators on the Bench: This is it  
That makes the wappened Widow wed again;  
She, whom the Spittle-house, and ulcerous sores,  
Would cast the gorge at. This Embalmes and Spices  
To ' th' April day again. Come damned Earth,  
Thou common whore of Mankind, that puts odds  
Among the rout of Nations, I will make thee  
Do thy right Nature.  March afar off. 
Ha'? A Drum? The art quick,  
But yet I'll bury thee: thou't go (strong Thief)  
When Gouty keepers of thee cannot stand:  
Nay stay thou out for earnest.  Enter Alcibiades with Drum and Fife in warlike manner, and Phrynia and Timandra. Alc. 
What art thou there? speak.  Tim. 
A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart  
For showing me again the eyes of Man.  Alc. 
What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,  
That art thyself a Man?  Tim. 
I am Misantropos, and hate Mankind,  
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,  
That I might love thee something.  Alc. 
I know thee well:  
But in thy Fortune's am unlearned, and strange.  Tim. 
I know thee too, and more than that I know thee  
I not desire to know. Fellow thy Drum,  
With man's blood paint the ground Gules, Gules:  
Religious Cannons, 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 Cherubin look.  Phrin. 
Thy lips rot off.  Tim. 
I will not kiss thee, than the rot returns  
To thine own lips again.  Alc. 
How came the Noble Timon to this change?  Tim. 
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.  Alc. 
Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?  Tim. 
None, but to maintain my opinion.  Alc. 
What is it Timon?  Tim. 
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.  Alc. 
I have heard in some sort of thy Miseries.  Tim. 
Thou saw'st them when I had prosperity.  Alc. 
I see them now, then was a blessed time.  Tim. 
As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots.  Timan. 
Is this th' Athenian Minion, whom the world Voiced so regardfully?  Tim. 
Art thou Timandra?  Timan. 
Yes.  Tim. 
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-checkt youth to the Pubfast, and the Diet.  Timan. 
Hang thee Monster.  Alc. 
Pardon him sweet Timandra▪ for his wits  
Are drowned 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, mindelesse of thy worth,  
Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states  
But for thy Sword and Fortune trod upon them.  Tim. 
I prithee beat thy Drum, and get thee gone.  Alc. 
I am thy Friend, and pity thee dear Timon.  Tim. 
How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble,  
I had rather be alone.  Alc. 
Why far thee well:  
here is some Gold for thee.  Tim. 
Keep it, I cannot eat it.  Alc. 
When I have laid proud Athens on a heap.  Tim. 
Warrest thou 'gainst Athens.  Alc. 
I Timon, and have cause.  Tim. 
The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest,  
And thee after, when thou hast Conquered.  Alc. 
Why me, Timon?  Tim. 
That by killing of Villains  
Thou was't borne to conquer my Country.  
Put up thy Gold. Go on, here's Gold, go on;  
Be as a Plannetary 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 honoured 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 Barn 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, the throat shall cut,  
And mince it sans remorse. Swear against Objects,  
Put Armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes,  
Whose proof, nor yels of Mothers, Maids, nor Babes,  
Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding,  
Shall pierce a jot. There's Gold to pay thy Soldiers,  
Make large confusion: and thy fury spent,  
Confounded be thyself. Speak not, be gone.  Alc. 
Hast thou Gold yet, I'll take the Gold thou givest me, not all thy Counsel.  Tim. 
Dost thou or dost thou not, Heaven's curse upon thee.  Both. 
Give us some Gold good Timon, hast thou more?  Tim. 
Enough to make a Whore forswear her Trade,  
And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold up you Sluts  
Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable,  
Although I know you'll swear, terribly swear  
Into strong shudders, and to heavenly Agues  
Th' 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 turne-coats: yet may your pains six months  
Be quite contrary, And Thatch  
Your poor thin Roofs with burdens of the dead,  
(Some that were hanged) no matter:  
Wear them, betray with them; Whore still,  
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face:  
A pox of wrinkles.  Both. 
Well, more Gold, what then?  
Believe't that we'll do any thing for Gold.  Tim. 
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 Quillers shrilly: Hoare the Flamen,  
That scold'st 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 curld'pate Ruffians bald  
And let the unscarred Braggerts 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.  Both. 
More counsel with more Money, bounteous Timon.  Tim. 
More whore, more Mischief first, I have given you earnest.  Alc. 
Strike up the Drum towards Athens, farewell Timon: if I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.  Tim. 
If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.  Alc. 
I never did thee harm.  Tim. 
Yes, thou spok'st well of me.  Alc. 
Call'st thou that harm?  Tim. 
Men daily find it. Get thee away,  
And take thy Beagles with thee.  Alc. 
We but offend him, strike.  Exeunt. Tim. 
That Nature being sick of man's unkindness  
Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou  
Whose womb unmeasureable, and infinite breast  
Teems and feeds all: whose selfsame Mettle  
Whereof thy proud Child (arrogant man) is puffed,  
Engenders the black Toad, and Adder blew,  
The gilded Newt, and eyeless venomed Worm,  
With all th' abhorred Births below Crispe Heaven,  
Whereon Hyperions quickening fire doth shine:  
Yield him, who all the humane Sons do hate,  
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root:  
Enseare 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 thankes:  
Dry up thy Marrows, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas,  
Whereof ingrateful man with Liquorish draughts  
And Morsels Unctuous, greases his pure mind,  
That from it all Consideration slips—  Enter Apemantus. 
More man? Plague, plague.  Ape. 
I was directed hither. Men report,  
Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost use them.  Tim. 
'Tis then, because thou dost not keep a dog  
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee.  Ape. 
This is in thee a Nature but infected,  
A poor unmanly Melancholy sprung  
From change of future. 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 pa●cing 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 gav'st thine ears (like Tapsters, that bad 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.  Tim. 
Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.  Ape. 
Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself  
A Madman so long, now a Fool: what thinkest  
That the bleak air, thy boisterous Chamberlain  
Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moist Trees,  
That have outlived the Eagle, page thy heels  
And skip when thou pointest out? Will the cold brook  
Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste  
To cure thy o're-nights surfeit? Call the Creatures,  
Whose naked Natures live in all 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.  Tim. 
A Fool of thee: depart.  Ape. 
I love thee better now, then ere I did.  Tim. 
I hate thee worse.  Ape. 
Why?  Tim. 
Thou flatterest misery.  Ape. 
I flatter not, but say thou art a Caitiff.  Tim. 
Why dost thou seek me out?  Ape. 
To vex thee.  Tim. 
Always a Villain's Office, or a Fools.  
Dost please thyself in't?  Ape. 
I.  Tim. 
What, a Knave too?  Ape. 
If thou didst put this sour cold habit on  
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou  
Dost it enforcedly: thou'dst Courtier be again  
Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery  
Outlives: incertain pomp, is crowned before:  
The one is filling still, never complete:  
The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse,  
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,  
Worse than the worst, Content.  
Thou shouldst desire to dye, being miserable.  Tim. 
Not by his breath, that is more miserable.  
Thou art a Slave, whom Fortunes tender arm  
With favour never clasped: 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'st: thou wouldst have plunged thyself  
In general Riot, melted down thy youth  
In different beds of Lust, and never learned  
The Icy precepts of respect, but followed  
The Sugared game before thee. But myself,  
Who had the world as my Confectionarie,  
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, have 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 flattered 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 shee-Begger, and compounded thee  
Poor Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,  
If thou hadst not been borne the worst of men,  
Thou hadst been a Knave and Flatterer.  Ape. 
Art thou proud yet?  Tim. 
I, that I am not thee.  Ape. 
I, that I was no Prodigal.  Tim. 
I, that I am one now.  
Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,  
I'd give thee leave to hang It. Get thee gone:  
That the whole life of Athens were in this,  
Thus would I eat it.  Ape. 
here, I will mend thy Feast.  Tim. 
First mend thy company, take away thyself.  Ape. 
So I shall mend mine own, by ' th' lack of thine  Tim. 
'Tis not well mended so, it is but botched;  
If not, I would it were.  Ape. 
What wouldst thou have to Athens?  Tim. 
Thee thither in a whirlwind: if thou wilt,  
Tell them there I have Gold, look, so I have.  Ape. 
here is no use for Gold.  Tim. 
The best, and truest:  
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.  Ape. 
Where liest a night's Timon?  Tim. 
Under that's above me.  
Where feedest thou adays Apemantus?  Ape. 
Where my stomach finds meat, or rather where I eat it.  Tim. 
Would poison were obedient, & knew my mind  Ape. 
Where wouldst thou send it?  Tim. 
To sauce thy dishes.  Ape. 
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 knowst none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a meddler for thee, eat it.  Tim. 
On what I hate, I feed not.  Ape. 
Dost hate a Medler?  Tim. 
I, though it look like thee.  Ape. 
And th' hadst hated Meddlers sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didd'st thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means?  Tim. 
Who without those means thou talk'st of, didst thou ever know beloved?  Ape. 
Myself.  Tim. 
I understand thee: thou hadst some means to keep a Dog.  Apem. 
What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy Flatterers?  Tim. 
Women nearest, but men: men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?  Ape. 
Give it the Beasts, to be rid of the men.  Tim. 
Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a Beast with the Beasts.  Ape. 
I Timon.  Tim. 
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 thee: 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, & 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.  Ape. 
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.  Tim. 
How has the Ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the City.  Ape. 
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.  Tim. 
When there is nothing living but thee,  
Thou shalt be welcome.  
I had rather be a Beggar's Dog,  
Then Apemantus.  Ape. 
Thou art the Cap  
Of all the Fools alive.  Tim. 
Would thou wert clean enough  
To spit upon.  Ape. 
A plague on thee,  
Thou art too bad to curse.  Tim. 
All Villains  
That do stand by thee, are pure.  Ape. 
There is no Leprosy,  
But what thou speakest.  Tim. 
If I name thee, I'll beat thee;  
But I should infect my hands.  Ape. 
I would my tongue  
Can rot them off.  Tim. 
Away thou issue of a mangy dog,  
Choler does kill me,  
That thou art alive, I swoon to see thee.  Ape. 
Would thou wouldst burst.  Tim. 
Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.  Ape. 
Beast.  Tim. 
Slave.  Ape. 
Toad.  Tim. 
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 of the Sea may beat  
Thy grave stone daily, make thine Epitaph,  
That death in me, at others lives may laugh.  
O thou sweet King-killer, and dear divorce  
Twixt natural Sun and fire: thou bright defilet  
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 Diane's lap.  
Thou visible God,  
That souldrest close Impossibilities,  
And makest them kiss; that speakest 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.  Ape. 
Would 'twere so,  
But not till I am dead. I'll say th' hast Gold:  
Thou wilt be thronged too shortly.  Tim. 
Thronged too?  Ape. 
I.  Tim. 
Thy back I prithee.  Ape. 
Live, and love thy misery.  Tim. 
Long live so, and so dye. I am quit.  Ape. 
more things like men,  
Eat Timon, and abhor then.  Exit Apeman. Enter the Bandits. 1 
Where should he have this Gold? It is some poor Fragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the mere want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friends, driven him into this Melancholy.  2 
It is noised  
He hath a mass of Treasure.  3 
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?  2 
True: for he bears it not about him:  
'Tis hid.  1 
Is not this he?  All. 
Where?  2 
'Tis his description.  3 
He? I know him.  All. 
Save thee Timon.  Tim. 
Now Thiefs.  All. 
Soldiers, not Thiefs.  Tim. 
Both too, and women's Sons.  All. 
We are not Thiefs, but men  
That much do want.  Tim. 
Your greatest want is, you want much of meat:  
Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes:  
Within this Mile break forth a hundred Springs:  
The Oaks bear Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps,  
The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush,  
Lays her full Mess before you. Want? why Want?  1 
We cannot live on Grass, on Berries, Water,  
As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes.  Ti. 
Nor on the Beasts themselves, the Birds & Fishes,  
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,  
That you are Thiefs professed: that you work not  
In holier shapes: For there is boundless Theft  
In limited Professions. Rascal Thiefs  
here's Gold. God, suck the subtle blood o' th' Grape,  
Till the high Favour seethe your blood to froth,  
And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physician,  
His Antidotes are poison, and he slays  
More than you Rob: Take wealth, and life's together,  
Do Villain do, since you protest to do't.  
Like Workmen, I'll example you with Thievery:  
The Suns a Thief, and with his great attraction  
Robs the vast Sea. The Moons an arrant Thief,  
And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sun.  
The Seas 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  
Has unchecked Theft. Love not yourselves, away,  
Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throats,  
All that you meet are Thiefs: to Athens go,  
Break open shops, nothing can you steal  
But Thiefs do lose it: steal less, for this I give you,  
And Gold confound you howe'er: Amen.  3 
Has almost charmed me from my Profession, by persuading me to it.  1 
'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advices us not to have us thrive in our mystery.  2 
I'll believe him as an Enemy,  
And give over my Trade.  1 
Let us first see peace in Athens, there is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.  Exit Thiefs. Enter the Steward to Timon. Stew. 
Oh you Gods!  
Is yond despised and ruinous man my Lord?  
Full of decay and failing? Oh Monument  
And wonder of good deeds, evilly bestowed!  
What an alteration of Honour has desperate want made?  
What vilder thing upon the earth, than Friends,  
Who can bring Noblest minds, to basest ends.  
How rarely does it meet with this times guise,  
When man was wished to love his Enemies:  
Grant I may ever love, and rather woe  
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.  Tim. 
Away: what art thou?  Stew. 
Have you forgot me, Sir?  Tim. 
Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men.  
Then, if thou grunt'st, th' art a man.  
I have forgot thee.  Stew. 
An honest poor servant of yours.  Tim. 
Then I know thee not:  
I never had honest man about me, I all  
I kept were Knaves, to serve in meat to Villains.  Stew. 
The Gods are witness,  
Ne'er did poor Steward wear a truer grief  
For his undone Lord, than mine eyes for you.  Tim. 
What, dost thou weep?  
Come nearer, than I love thee  
Because thou art a woman, and disclaimest  
Flinty mankind: whose eyes do never give,  
But thorough Lust and Laughter: pity's sleeping:  
Strange times that weep with laughing, not with weeping.  Stew. 
I beg of you to know me, good my Lord,  
T' accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts,  
To entertain me as your Steward still.  Tim. 
Had I a Steward  
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?  
It almost turns my dangerous Nature wild.  
Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man  
Was borne of woman.  
Forgive my general, and exceptlesse 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 redeemest thyself. But all save thee,  
I fell with Curses.  
Me thinks thou art more honest now, then 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?  Stew. 
No my most worthy Master, in whose breast  
Doubt, and suspect (alas) are placed too late:  
You should have feared 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 Honoured Lord,  
For any benefit that points to me,  
Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange  
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth  
To requite me, by making rich yourself.  Tim. 
Look thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man,  
here take: the Gods out of my misery  
Has sent thee Treasure. Go, live rich and happy,  
But thus conditioned: Thou shalt build from men:  
Hate all, curse all, show Charity to none,  
But let the famished flesh slide from the Bone,  
Ere thou relieve the Beggar. Give to dogs  
What thou deniest 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.  Stew. 
O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master.  Tim. 
If thou hat'st Curses  
Stay not: fly, whilst thou art blessed and free:  
ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.  Exit Enter Poet, and Painter. Pain. 
As I took note of the place, it cannot be fare 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: Phrinica and Timandylo  
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 and 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' th' 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 judgement  
That makes it.  Enter Timon from his Cave. Timon. 
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. 
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 blacke-cornered night;  
Find what thou want'st, by free and offered light.  
Come.  Tim. 
I'll meet you at the turn:  
What a God's Gold, that he is worshipped  
In a base Temple, then where Swine feed?  
'Tis thou that riggest the Bark, and plow'st the Foam,  
Settlest admired reverence in a Slave,  
To thee be worshipped, and thy Saints for aye:  
Be crowned with Plagues, that thee alone obey.  
Fit I meet them.  Poet. 
Hail worthy Timon.  Pain. 
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 Starlike 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.  Pain. 
He, and myself  
Have travailed in the great shower of your gifts,  
And sweetly felt it.  Timon. 
I, you are honest man.  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.  Tim. 
YE are honest men,  
YE have heard that I have Gold,  
I am sure you have, speak truth, ye are honest men.  Pain. 
So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore  
Came not my Friend, nor I.  Timon. 
Good honest men: Thou drawest a counterfeit  
Best in all Athens, th' art indeed the best,  
Thou counterfet'st most lively.  Pain. 
So, so, my Lord.  Tim. 
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.  Tim. 
You'll take it ill.  Both. 
Most thankfully, my Lord.  Timon. 
Will you indeed?  Both. 
Doubt it not worthy Lord.  Tim. 
There's never a one of you but trusts a Knave,  
That mightily deceives you.  Both. 
Do we, my Lord?  Tim. 
I, 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-villaine.  Pain. 
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.  Tim. 
You that way, and you this:  
But two in Company:  
Each man a part, 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:  
You have work for me; there's payment, hence,  
You are an Alchemist, make Gold of that:  
Out Rascal dogs.  Exeunt Enter Steward, and two Senators. Stew. 
It is 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.  1. Sen. 
Bring us to his Cave.  
It is our part and promise to th' Athenians  
To speak with Timon.  2. Sen. 
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 chanced it as it may.  Stew. 
here is his Cave:  
Peace and content be here. Lord Timon, Timon,  
Look out, and speak to Friends: Th' Athenians  
By two of their most reverend Senate greet thee:  
Speak to them Noble Timon.  Enter Timon out of his cave. Tim. 
Thou Sun that comforts burn,  
Speak and be hanged:  
For each true word, a blister, and each false  
Be as a Cantherizing to the root o' th' Tongue,  
Consuming it with speaking.  1 
Worthy Timon.  Tim. 
Of none but such as you,  
And you of Timon.  1 
The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon.  Tim. 
I thank them,  
And would send them back the plague,  
Can I but catch it for them.  1 
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.  2 
They confess  
Toward thee, forgetfulness too general gross;  
Which now the public Body, which doth seldom  
Play the re-canter, feeling in itself  
A lack of Timon's aid, hath since withal  
Of it own fall, restraining aid to Timon,  
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render,  
Together, with a recompense more fruitful  
Than their offence can weigh down by the Dram,  
I 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,  
Eu● to read them thine.  Tim. 
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 be weep these comforts, worthy Senators.  1 
Therefore so please thee to return with us,  
And of our Athens, thine and ours to take  
The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes,  
Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name  
Live with Authority: so soon we shall drive back  
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,  
Who like a Boar too savage, doth root up  
His Country's peace.  2 
And shakes his threatening Sword  
Against the walls of Athens.  1 
Therefore Timon.  Tim. 
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 he sack fair Athens,  
And take our goodly aged men by ' th' Beards,  
Giving our holy Virgins to the stain  
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brained 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 th' unruly Camp,  
But I do prize it at my love, before  
The reverends' Throat in Athens. So I leave you  
To the protection of the prosperous Gods,  
As Thiefs to Keepers.  Stew. 
Stay not, all's in vain.  Tim. 
Why I was writing of my Epitaph,  
It will be seen to morrow. My long sickness  
Of Health, and Living, now gins to mend,  
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still,  
Be Alcibiades your plague; you his,  
And last so long enough.  1 
We speak in vain.  Tim. 
But yet I love my Country, and am not  
One that rejoices in the common wrack,  
As common bruit doth put it.  1 
That's well spoke.  Tim. 
Commend me to my loving Countrymen.  1 
These words become your lips as they pass thorough them.  2 
And enter in our ears, like great Triumphers  
In their applauding gates.  Tim. 
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 throws  
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.  1 
I like this well, he will return again.  Tim. 
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 who so 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.  Stew. 
Trouble him no further, thus you still shall Find him.  Tim. 
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 four 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.  Exit Timon▪ 1 
His discontents are unremovably coupled to Nature.  2 
Our hope in him is dead: let us return,  
And strain what other means is left unto us  
In our dear peril.  1 
It requires swift foot.  Exeunt. Enter two other Senator's, with a Messenger. 1 
Thou hast painfully discovered: are his Files  
As full as thy report?  Mes. 
I have spoke the least.  
Besides his expedition promises present approach.  2 
We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.  Mes. 
I met a Currier, 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' th' cause against your City,  
In part for his sake moved.  Enter the other Senator's. 1 
here come our Brothers.  3 
No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect,  
The Enemy's 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 Enter a Soldier in the Woods▪ seeking Timon. Sol. 
By all description this should be the place.  
Whose here? Speak hoa. No answer? What is this?  
Timon is dead, who hath outstretched his span,  
Some Beast read 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. Trumpet's sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens. Alc. 
Sound to this Coward, and lascivious Town,  
Our terrible approach.  Sounds a Parley. The Senators appear upon the walls. 
Till now you have gone on, and filled 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 wandered 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.  1 Sen. 
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.  2 
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.  1 
These walls of ours,  
Were not erected by rheir hands, from whom  
You have received your grief: Nor are they such,  
That these great Towers, Trophies, & Schools should fall  
For private faults in them.  2 
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 tythed 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 dye the spotted.  1 
All have not offended:  
For those that were, it is not square to take  
On those that are, Revenge: 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 th' infected forth,  
But kill not altogether.  2 
What thou wilt,  
Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile,  
Then hue too't, with thy Sword.  1 
Set but thy foot  
Against our rampyred gates, and they shall open:  
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,  
To say thou'lt enter Friendly.  2 
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 sealed thy full desire.  Alc. 
Then there's my Glove,  
Defend 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 remedied to your public Laws  
At heaviest answer.  Both. 
'Tis most Nobly spoken.  Alc. 
Descend, and keep your words.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
My Noble General, Timon is dead,  
Entombed upon the very hem o' th' Sea,  
And on his Gravestone, this Insculpture which  
With wax I brought away: whose soft Impression  
Interprets for my poor ignorance.  Alcibiades reads the Epitaph. 
here lies a wretched Coarse, 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 gate.  
These well express in thee thy latter spirits:  
Though thou abhorrd'st in us our humane griefs.  
Scornd'st our Brains 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 others Leech.  
Let our Drums strike.  Exeunt.  
FINIS.   

THE ACTORS NAMES.  

TIMON of Athens.  
Lucius, And Lucullus, two Flattering Lords.  
Appemantus, a Churlish Philosopher.  
Sempronius another flattering Lord.  
Alcibiades, an Athenian Captain.  
Poet.  
Painter.  
Jeweller.  
Merchant.  
Certain Senators.  
Certain Maskers.  
Certain Thiefs.  
Flaminius, one of Tymons Servants.  
Servilius, another.  
Caphis. Several Servants to Usurers.  
Varro. Several Servants to Usurers.  
Philo. Several Servants to Usurers.  
Titus. Several Servants to Usurers.  
Lucius. Several Servants to Usurers.  
Hortensis Several Servants to Usurers.  
Ventigius. one of Tymons false Friends.  
Cupid.  
Sempronius.  
With diverse other Servants,  
And Attendants.     

THE TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CAESAR.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Flavius, Murellus, and certain Commoners over the Stage. 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?  Car. 
Why Sir, a Carpenter.  Mur. 
Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule?  
What dost thou with thy best Apparel on?  
You sir, what Trade are you?  Cobls. 
Truly Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am but as you would say, a Cobbler.  Mur. 
But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly.  Cob. 
A Trade Sir, that I hope I may use, with a safe Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad souls.  Fla. 
What Trade thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what Trade?  Cobls. 
Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out Sir, I can mend you.  Mur. 
What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy Fellow?  Cob. 
Why sir, Cobble you.  Fla. 
Thou art a Cobbler, art thou?  Cob. 
Truly sir, all that I live by, is with the Awl: I meddle with no Tradesman's matters, nor women's matters; but withal 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.  Fla. 
But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?  
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?  Cob. 
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.  Mur. 
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 climbed 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 patiented 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.  Fla. 
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 where their basest mettle 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 decked with Ceremonies.  Mur. 
May we do so?  
You know it is the Feast of lupercal.  Fla. 
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, plucked 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 Enter Caesar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flavius. Caes. 
Calphurnia.  Cask. 
Peace ho, Caesar speaks.  Caes. 
Calphurnia.  Calp. 
here my Lord.  Caes. 
Stand you directly in Antonio's way,  
When he doth run his course. Antonio.  Ant. 
Caesar, my Lord.  Caes. 
Forget not in your speed Antonio,  
To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say,  
The Barren touched in this holy chase,  
Shake off their sterrile curse.  Ant. 
I shall remember,  
When Caesar says, Do this; it is performed.  Caes. 
Set on, and leave no Ceremony out.  Sooth. 
Caesar.  Caes. 
Ha'? Who calls?  Cask. 
Bid every noise be still: peace yet again.  Caes. 
Who is it in the press, that calls on me?  
I hear a Tongue shriller than all the Music  
Cry, Caesar: Speak, Caesar is turned to hear.  Sooth. 
Beware the Ideses of March.  Caes. 
What man is that?  Br. 
A Soothsayer bids you beware the Ideses of March  Caes. 
Set him before me, let me see his face.  Cassi. 
Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Caesar.  Caes. 
What sayest thou to me now? Speak once again.  South. 
Beware the Ideses of March.  Caes. 
He is a Dreamer, let us leave him: Pass.  Sennet. Exeunt. Manet Brut. & Cass. Cassi. 
Will you go see the order of the course?  Brut. 
Not I  Cassi. 
I pray you do.  Brut. 
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.  Cassi. 
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 love's you.  Bru. 
Cassius,  
Be not deceived: If I have veiled 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 Behaviours:  
But let not therefore my good Friends be grieved  
(Among which number Cassius be you one)  
Nor construe any further my neglect,  
Then that poor Brutus with himself at war,  
Forgets the shows of Love to other men.  Cassi. 
Then Brutus, I have much mistake 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 wished, that Noble Brutus had his eyes.  Bru. 
Into what dangers, would you  
Lead me Cassius?  
That you would have me seek into myself,  
For that which is not in me?  Cas. 
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 Laughter, 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. Bru. 
What means this Shouting?  
I do fear, the People choose Caesar  
For their King.  Cassi. 
I, do you fear it?  
Then must I think you would not have it so.  Bru. 
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' th' 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.  Cassi. 
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 borne 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, chase 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 roared, 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 Anchyses 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:  
I, 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. Bru. 
Another general shout?  
I do believe, that these applauses are  
For some new Honours, that are heaped on Caesar.  Cassi. 
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 sometime, 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?  
Writ them together: Yours, is as fair a Name:  
Sound them, it doth become the mouth aswell:  
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 talked of Rome,  
That her wide Walks encompassed 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 brooked  
Th' eternal Devil to keep his State in Rome,  
As easily as a King.  Bru. 
That you do love me, I am nothing jealous:  
What you would work me too, 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,  
Then to repute himself a Son of Rome  
Under these hard Conditions, as this time  
Is like to lay upon us.  Cassi. 
I am glad that my weak words  
Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.  Enter Caesar and his Train. Bru. 
The Games are done,  
And Caesar is returning.  Cassi. 
As they pass by▪  
Pluck Caska by the Sleeve,  
And he will (after his sour fashion) tell you  
What hath proceeded worthy note to day.  Bru. 
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;  
Calphurnia Cheek is pale, and Cicero  
Looks with such ●er●▪ and such fiery eyes  
As we have seen him in the Capitol  
Being crossed in Conference, by some Senators.  Cassi. 
Caska will tell us what the matter is.  Caes. 
Antonio.  Ant. 
Caesar.  Caes. 
Let me have men about me, that are fat,  
Sleeke-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights:  
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look,  
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.  Ant. 
Fear him not Caesar, he's not dangerous,  
He is a Noble Roman, and well given.  Caes. 
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 love's no Plays,  
As thou dost Antony: he hears no Music;  
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort  
As if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit  
That could be moved to smile at any thing.  
Such men as he, be never at hearts ease,  
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,  
And therefore are they very dangerous.  
I rather tell thee what is to be feared,  
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 thinkest of him.  Sennit. Exeunt Caesar and his Train. Cask. 
You pulled me by the cloak, would you speak with me?  Bru. 
I Caska, tell us what hath chanced to day  
That Caesar looks so sad.  Cask. 
Why you were with him, were you not?  Bru. 
I should not then ask Caska what had chanced.  Cask. 
Why there was a Crown offered him; & being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand thus, and then the people fell a shouting.  Bru. 
What was the second noise for?  Cask. 
Why for that too.  Cassi. 
They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?  Cask. 
Why for that too.  Bru. 
Was the Crown offered him thrice?  Cask. 
I marry was't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting by, mine honest Neighbours shouted.  Cassi. 
Who offered him the Crown?  Cask. 
Why Antony.  Bru. 
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Caska.  Caska. 
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 howted, and clapped their chopped hands, and threw up their sweaty Nightcappes, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath, because Caesar refused the Crown, that it had (almost) choked Caesar: for he swooned, 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.  Cassi. 
But soft I pray you: what, did Caesar swoon?  Cask. 
He fell down in the Marketplace, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless.  Brut. 
'Tis very like he hath the Falling sickness.  Cassi. 
No, Caesar hath it not: but you, and I,  
And honest Caska, we have the Falling sickness.  Cask. 
I know not what you mean by that, but I am sure Caesar fell down. If the tag-ragge people did not clap him, and hisse him, according as he pleased, and displeased them, as they use to do the Players in the Theatre, I am no true man.  Brut. 
What said he, when he came unto himself?  Cask. 
Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common Herd was glad he refused the Crown, he plucked me open his Doublet, and offered them his Throat to cut: and 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.  Brut. 
And after that, he came thus sad away.  Cask. 
I.  Cassi. 
Did Cicero say any thing?  Cask. 
I, he spoke Greek.  Cassi. 
To what effect?  Cask. 
Nay, and I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' th' face again. But those that understood him, smiled at one another, and shaken their heads: but for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too: Murrellus and Flavius, for pulling Scarves off Caesar's Images, are put to silence. Far you well. There was more Foolery yet, if I could remember it.  Cassi. 
Will you sup with me to Night, Caska?  Cask. 
No, I am promised forth.  Cassi. 
Will you Dine with me to morrow?  Cask. 
I, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your  
Dinner worth the eating.  Cassi. 
Good, I will expect you.  Cask. 
Do so: farewell both.  Exit. Brut. 
What a blunt fellow is this grown to be?  
He was quick Mettle, when he went to School.  Cassi. 
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.  Brut. 
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.  Cassi. 
I will do so: till then, think of the World.  Exit. Brutus. 
Well Brutus, thou art Noble: yet I see,  
Thy Honourable Mettle 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 love's 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. Thunder, and Lightning. Enter Caska, and Cicero. Cic. 
Good even, Caska: brought you Caesar home?  
Why are you breathless, and why stare you so?  Cask. 
Are not you moved, when all the sway of Earth  
Shakes, like a thing unfirme? O Cicero,  
I have seen Tempests, when the scolding Winds  
Have rived the knotty Oaks, and I have seen  
Th' 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.  Cic. 
Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?  Cask. 
A common slave, you know him well by sight,  
Held up his left Hand, which did flame and burn  
Like twenty Torches joined; and yet his Hand,  
Not sensible of fire, remained vnscorched.  
Besides, I ha'not since put up my Sword,  
Against the Capitol I met a Lion,  
Who glazed 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 Noonday, upon the Market place,  
Howting, 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.  Cic. 
Indeed, it is a strange disposed time:  
But men may construe things after their fashion,  
Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.  
Comes Caesar to the Capitol to morrow?  Cask. 
He doth: for he did bid Antonio  
Send word to you, he would be there to morrow.  Cic. 
Good-night then, Caska:  
This disturbed Sky is not walk in.  Cask. 
Farewell Cicero.  Exit Cicero. Enter Cassius. Cassi. 
Who's there?  Cask. 
A Roman▪  Cassi. 
Caska▪ by your Voice.  Cask. 
Your Ear is good.  
Cassius, what Night is this?  Cassi. 
A very pleasing Night 〈◊〉 seen▪  Cask. 
Who ever knew the Heavens menace so?  Cassi. 
Those that have known the Earth so full of faults.  
For my part, I have walked about the streets,  
Submitting me unto the perilous Night;  
And thus unbraced, Caska, as you see,  
Have barred my Bosom to the Thunder-stone:  
And when the cross blue Lightning seemed to open  
The Breast of Heaven, I did present myself  
Even in the aim, and very flash of it.  Cask. 
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.  Cassi. 
You are dull, Caska:  
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, Fools, and Children calculate,  
Why all these things change from their Ordinance,  
Their Natures, and pre-formed 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 (Caska) 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.  Cask. 
'Tis Caesar that you mean:  
It is not, Cassius?  Cassi. 
Let it be who it is: for Romans now  
Have Thews, and Limbs, like to their Ancestors;  
But woe the while, our Father's minds are dead,  
And we are governed with our Mother's spirits,  
Our yoke, and sufferance, show us Womanish.  Cask. 
Indeed, they say, the Senator's to morrow  
Mean to establish Caesar as a King:  
And he shall wear his Crown by Sea, and Land,  
In every place, save here in Italy.  Cassi. 
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 ayre-lesse 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. Cask. 
So can I:  
So every Bondman in his own hand bears  
The power to cancel his Captivity.  Cassi. 
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 oh 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 armed,  
And dangers are to me indifferent.  Cask. 
You speak to Caska, and to such a man,  
That is no flearing Tell-tale. Hold, my Hand:  
Be factious for redress of all these Griefs,  
And I will set this foot of mine as fare,  
As who goes farthest.  Cassi. 
There's a Bargain made.  
Now know you, Caska, 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  
Is Favours, like the Work we have in hand,  
Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.  Enter Cinna. Caska. 
Stand close a while, for here comes one in haste.  Cassi. 
'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his Gate,  
He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so?  Cinna. 
To find out you: Who's that, Metellus Cymber?  Cassi. 
No, it is Caska, one incorporate  
To our Attempts. Am I not stayed 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.  Cassi. 
Am I not stayed for? tell me.  Cinna. 
Yes, you are. O Cassius,  
If you could but win the Noble Brutus  
To our party—  Cassi. 
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 Cymber, and he's gone  
To seek you at your house. Well, I will high,  
And so bestow these Papers as you bade me.  Cassi. 
That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre.  Exit Cinna. 
Come Caska, 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.  Cask. 
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.  Cassi. 
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.   

Actus Secundus.  Enter Brutus in his Orchard. Brut. 
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 sound.  
When Lucius, when? awake, I say: what Lucius?  Enter Lucius. Luc. 
Called you, my Lord?  Brut. 
Get me a Tapor in my Study, Lucius:  
When it is lighted, come and call me here.  Luc. 
I will, my Lord.  Exit. Brut. 
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 crowned:  
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.  
Th' abuse of Greatness, is, when it disjoines  
Remorse from Power: And to speak truth of Caesar,  
I have not known, when his Affections swayed  
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 hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous;  
And kill him in the shell.  Enter Lucius. Luc. 
The Taper burneth in your Closet, Sir:  
Searching the Window for a Flint, I found  
This Paper, thus sealed up, and I am sure  
It did not lie there when I went to Bed.  Gives him the Letter. Brut. 
Get you to Bed again, it is not day:  
Is not to morrow (Boy) the first of March?  Luc. 
I know not, Sir.  Brut. 
Look in the Calendar, and bring me word.  Luc. 
I will, Sir.  Exit. Brut. 
The exhalations, whizzing in the air,  
Give so much light, that I may read by them.  Opens the Letter, and reads. 
Brutus' thou sleepest; awake, and see thyself:  
Shall Rome, etc. speak, strike, redress.  
Brutus, thou sleepest: awake.  
Such instigations have been often dropped,  
Where I have taken them up:  
Shall Rome, etc. 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 called 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.  Enter Lucius. Luc. 
Sir, March is wasted fifteen days.  Knock within. Brut. 
'Tis good. Go to the Gate, some body knocks:  
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 a man,  
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then  
The nature of an Insurrection.  Enter Lucius. Luc. 
Sir, 'tis your Brother Cassius at the Door,  
Who doth desire to see you.  Brut. 
Is he alone?  Luc. 
No, Sir, there are more with him.  Brut. 
Do you know them?  Luc. 
No, Sir, their Hats are plucked about their Ears,  
And half their Faces buried in their Cloaks,  
That by no means I may discover them,  
By any mark of favour.  Brut. 
Let 'em enter:  
They are the Faction. O Conspiracy,  
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous Brow by Night,  
When evils are most free? O then, by day  
Where wilt thou find a caverne 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', Caska, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius. Cass. 
I think we are too bold upon your Rest:  
Good morrow Brutus, do we trouble you?  Brut. 
I have been up this hour, awake all Night:  
Know I these men, that come along with you?  Cass. 
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.  Brut. 
He is welcome hither.  Cass. 
This, Decius Brutus.  Brut. 
He is welcome too.  Cass. 
This, Caska; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cymber.  Brut. 
They are all welcome.  
What watchful Cares do interpose themselves  
Betwixt your Eyes, and Night?  Cass. 
Shall I entreat a word?  They whisper. Decius. 
Here lies the East: doth not the Day break here?  Cask. 
No.  Cin. 
O pardon, Sir, it doth; and you grey Lines,  
That fret the Clouds, are Messengers of Day.  Cask. 
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.  Bru. 
Give me your hands all over, one by one.  Cas. 
And let us swear our Resolution.  Brut. 
No, not an Oath: if not the Face of men,  
The sufferance of our Souls, the times 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,  
Then secret Romans, that have spoke the word,  
And will not palter? And what other Oath,  
Then 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 th' 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 Bastordie,  
If he do break the smallest Particle  
Of any promise that hath passed from him.  Cas. 
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?  
I think he will stand very strong with us.  Cask. 
Let us not leave him out.  Cyn. 
No, by no means.  Metel. 
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 judgement ruled our hands,  
Our youths, and wildness, shall no whit appear,  
But all be buried in his Gravity.  Bru. 
O name him not; let us not break with him,  
For he will never follow any thing  
That other men begin.  Cas. 
Then leave him out.  Cask. 
Indeed, he is not fit.  Decius. 
Shall no man else be touched, but only Caesar?  Cas. 
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 fare  
As to annoy us all: which to prevent,  
Let Antony and Caesar fall together.  Bru. 
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's 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 hue him as a Carcase 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 called 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.  Cas. 
Yet I fear him,  
For in the engrafted love he bears to Caesar.  Bru. 
Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:  
If he love Caesar, all that he can do  
Is to himself; take thought, and dye for Caesar,  
And that were much he should: for he is given  
To sports, to wildness, and much company.  Treb. 
There is no fear in him; let him not dye,  
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.  Clock strikes. Bru. 
Peace, count the Clock.  Cas. 
The Clock hath stricken three.  Treb. 
'Tis time to part.  Cass 
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 unaccustomed Terror of this night,  
And the persuasion of his Augurers,  
May hold him from the Capitol to day.  Decius. 
Never fear that: If he be so resolved,  
I can o'ersway him: For he love's to hear,  
That Unicorns may be betrayed 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.  Cas. 
Nay, we will all of us, be there to fetch him▪  Bru. 
By the eight hour, is that the uttermost?  Cin. 
Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.  Met. 
Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,  
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;  
I wonder none of you have thought of him.  Bru. 
Now good Metellus go along by him:  
He love's me well, and I have given him Reasons,  
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.  Cas. 
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.  Bru. 
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. Manet Brutus. 
Boy: Lucius: Fast asleep? It is no matter,  
Enjoy the hony-heavy-dew of Slumber:  
Thou hast no Figures, nor no Fantasies,  
Which busy care draws, in the brains of men;  
Therefore thou sleepest so sound.  Enter Portia. Por. 
Brutus, my Lord.  Bru. 
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.  Por. 
Nor for yours neither. YE have ungently Brutus  
Stole from my bed: and yesternight at Supper  
You suddenly arose, and walked about,  
Musing, and sighing, with your arms across:  
And when I asked you what the matter was,  
You stared upon me, with ungentle looks.  
I urged you further, than you scratched your head,  
And too impatiently stamped with your foot:  
Yet I insisted, yet you answered not,  
But with an angry wafter of your hand  
Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did,  
Fearing to strengthen that impatience  
Which seemed 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 prevailed on your Condition,  
I should not know you Brutus. Dear my Lord,  
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.  Bru. 
I am not well in health, and that is all.  Por. 
Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,  
He would embrace the means to come by it.  Bru. 
Why so I do: good Portia go to bed.  Por. 
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 hit 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 resort to you: for here have been  
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces  
Even from darkness.  Bru. 
Kneel not gentle Portia.  Por. 
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.  
Within though 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.  Bru. 
You are my true and honourable Wife,  
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops  
That visit my sad heart.  Por. 
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 Fathered, 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?  Bru. 
O ye Gods!  
Render me worthy of this Noble Wife.  Knocke. 
Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia go in a while,  
And by and by thy bosom shall partake  
The secrets of my Heart.  
All my engagements, I will construe to thee,  
All the Charractery of my sad brows:  
Leave me with haste.  Exit Portia. Enter Lucius and Ligarius. 
Lucius, who's that knocks.  Luc. 
here is a sick man that would speak with you.  Bru. 
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of.  
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?  Cai. 
Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.  Bru. 
O what a time have you chose out brave Caius  
To wear a Kerchief? Would you were not sick.  Cai. 
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand  
Any exploit worthy the name of Honor.  Bru. 
Such an exploit have I in hand Ligarius,  
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.  Cai. 
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?  Bru. 
A piece of work,  
That will make sick men whole.  Cai. 
But are not some whole▪ that we must make sick?  Bru. 
That must we also. What it is my Caius,  
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going,  
To whom it must be done.  Cai. 
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.  Thunder. Bru. 
Fellow me then.  Exeunt Thunder & Lightning. Enter julius Caesar in his Nightgown. Caesar. 
Nor Heaven, nor Earth,  
Have been at peace to night:  
Thrice hath Calphurnia, in her sleep cried out,  
Help, ho: They murder Caesar. Who's within?  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
My Lord.  Caes. 
Go bid the Priests do present Sacrifice,  
And bring me their opinions of Success.  Ser. 
I will my Lord.  Exit Enter Calphurnia. Cal. 
What mean you Caesar? Think you to walk forth?  
You shall not stir out of your house to day.  Caes. 
Caesar shall forth; the things that threatened me,  
ne'er looked but on my back: When they shall see  
The face of Caesar, they are vanished.  Calp. 
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 yawned, and yielded up their dead;  
Fierce fiery Warriors fight upon the Clouds  
In Ranks and Squadrons, and right form of War  
Which drizeled blood upon the Capitol:  
The noise of Battle hurtled in the Air:  
Horses do neigh, and dying men did groan,  
And Ghosts did shrieke and squeale about the streets.  
O Caesar, these things are beyond all use.  
And I do fear them.  Caes. 
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.  Calp. 
When Beggars die, there are no Comets seen,  
The Heavens themselves blaze forth the death of Princes  Caes. 
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.  Enter a Servant. 
What say the Augurers?  Ser. 
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.  Caes. 
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 hear two Lions littered in one day,  
And I the elder and more terrible,  
And Caesar shall go forth.  Calp. 
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.  Caes. 
Mark Antony shall say I am not well,  
And for thy humour, I will stay at home.  Enter Decius. 
here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.  Deci. 
Caesar, all hail: Good morrow worthy Caesar,  
I come to fetch you to the Senate house.  Caes. 
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.  Calp. 
Say he is sick.  Caes. 
Shall Caesar send a Lie?  
Have I in Conquest stretched mine Arm so fare,  
To be afeared to tell Graybeards the truth:  
Decius, go tell them, Caesar will not come.  Deci. 
Most mighty Caesar let me know some cause,  
Lest I be laughed at when I tell them so.  Caes. 
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.  
Calphurnia here my wife, stays me at home:  
She dreamt to night, she saw my Statue,  
Which like a Fountain, with an hundred spouts  
Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans  
Came smiling, & did bathe their hands in it:  
And these does she apply, for warnings and portents,  
And evils imminent; and on her knee  
Hath begged, that I will stay at home to day.  Deci. 
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  
Reviuing blood, and that great men shall press  
For Tinctures, Staines, Relics, and Cognisance.  
This by Calphurnia's Dream is signified.  Caes. 
And this way have you well expounded it.  Deci. 
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 rendered, 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 your proceeding, bids me tell you this:  
And reason to my love is liable.  Caes. 
How foolish do your fears seem now Calphurnia?  
I am ashamed I did yield to them.  
Give me my Robe, for I will go.  Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Caska, Trebonius, Cynna, and Publius. 
And look where Publius is come to fetch me.  Pub. 
Good morrow Caesar.  Caes. 
Welcome Publius.  
What Brutus, are you stirred so early too?  
Good morrow Caska: Caius Ligarius,  
Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy,  
As that same Ague which hath made you lean.  
What is't a Clock?  Bru. 
Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.  Caes. 
I thank you for your pains and courtesy.  Enter Antony. 
See, Antony that Revels long a-nights  
Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow Antony.  Ant. 
So to most Noble Caesar.  Caes. 
Bid them prepare within:  
I am too blame to be thus waited for.  
Now Cynna▪ now Metellus: what Trebonius,  
I have an hours talk in store for you:  
Remember that you call on me to day:  
Be near me, that I may remember you.  Treb. 
Caesar I will: and so near will I be,  
That your best Friends shall wish I had been further.  Caes. 
Good Friends go in, and taste some wine with me  
And we (like Friends) will strait way go together.  Bru. 
That every like is not the same, O Caesar,  
The heart of Brutus earns to think upon.  Exeunt Enter Artemidorus. 
Caesar, beware of Brutus, take heed of Cassius; come not near Caska, have an eye to Cynna, trust not Trebonius, mark well Metellus Cymber, Decius Brutus love's thee not: Thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bend against Caesar: If thou be'st 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 mayest live;  
If not, the Fates with Traitors do contrive.  Exit. Enter Portia and Lucius. Por. 
I prithee Boy, run to the Senate-house,  
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone.  
Why dost thou stay?  Luc. 
To know my errand Madam.  Por. 
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 between 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?  Luc. 
Madam, what should I do?  
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?  
And so return to you, and nothing else?  Por. 
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?  Luc. 
I hear none Madam.  Por. 
Prithee listen well:  
I heard a bussling Rumour like a Fray,  
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.  Luc. 
Sooth Madam, I hear nothing.  Enter the Soothsayer. Por. 
Come hither Fellow, which way hast thou been?  Sooth. 
At mine own house, good Lady.  Por. 
What is't a clock?  Sooth. 
About the ninth hour Lady.  Por. 
Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?  Sooth. 
Madam not yet, I go to take my stand,  
To see him pass on to the Capitol.  Por. 
Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not?  Sooth. 
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.  Por. 
Why knowst thou any harmes intended towards him?  Sooth. 
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 Por. 
I must go in:  
Ay me! How weak a thing  
The heart of woman is? O Brutus,  
The Heaven's 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  

Actus Tertius.  Flourish. Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cynna, Antony, Lepidus', Artimedorus, Publins, and the Soothsayer. Caes. 
The Ideses of March are come.  Sooth. 
I Caesar, but not gone.  Art. 
Hail Caesar: Read this Schedule.  Deci. 
Trebonius doth desire you to oreread  
(At your best leisure) this his humble suit.  Art. 
O Caesar, read mine first: for mine's a suit  
That touches Caesar nearer. Read it great Caesar.  Caes. 
What touches us ourself, shall be last served.  Art. 
Delay not Caesar, read it instantly.  Caes. 
What, is the fellow mad?  Pub. 
Sirrah, give place.  Cassi. 
What, urge you your Petitions in the street?  
Come to the Capitol.  Popil. 
I wish your enterprise to day may thrive.  Cassi. 
What enterprise popilius?  Popil. 
Far you well.  Bru. 
What said popilius Lena?  Cassi. 
He wished to day our enterprise might thrive:  
I fear our purpose is discovered.  Bru. 
Look how he makes to Caesar: mark him.  Cassi. 
Caska 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.  Bru. 
Cassius be constant:  
popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes,  
For look he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.  Cassi. 
Trebonius knows his time: for look you Brutus  
He draws Mark Antony out of the way.  Deci. 
Where is Metellus Cimber, let him go,  
And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.  Bru. 
He is addressed: press near, and second him.  Cin. 
Caska, you are the first that rears your hand.  Caes. 
Are we all ready? What is now amiss,  
That Caesar and his Senate must redress?  Metel. 
Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar  
Metellus Cymber throws before thy Seat  
An humble heart.  Caes. 
I must prevent thee Cymber:  
These couch, and these lowly courtesies  
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,  
And turn preordinance, and first Decree▪  
Into the lane of Children. Be not fond.  
To think that Caesar bears such Rebel blood  
That will be thawed from the true quality  
With that which melteth Fools, I mean sweet words,  
Low-crooked-curtsies, 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.  Metel. 
Is there no voice more worthy than my own,  
To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear,  
For the repealing of my banished Brother?  Bru. 
I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery Caesar:  
Desiring thee, that Publius Cymber may  
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.  Caes. 
What Brutus?  Cassi. 
Pardon Caesar: Caesar pardon:  
As low as to thy foot doth Cassius' fall,  
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cymber.  Caes. 
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 fixed, and resting quality,  
There is no fellow in the Firmament.  
The Skies are painted with unnumbered 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 furnished well with Men,  
And Men are Flesh and Blood, and apprehensive;  
Yet in the number, I do know but One  
That unassayleable holds on his Rank,  
Vnshaked of Motion: and that I am he,  
Let me a little show it, even in this:  
That I was constant Cymber should be banished,  
And constant do remain to keep him so.  Cinna. 
O Caesar.  Caes. 
Hence: Wilt thou lift up Olympus?  Decius. 
Great Caesar.  Caes. 
Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?  Cask. 
Speak hands for me.  They stab Caesar. Caes. 
Et Tu Brutus?— Then fall Caesar.  Dies Cin. 
Liberty, Freedom; Tyranny is dead,  
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the Streets.  Cassi. 
Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out  
Liberty, Freedom, and Enfranchisement.  Bru. 
People and Senator's, be not affrighted:  
Fly not, stand still: Ambitions debt is paid.  Cask. 
Go to the Pulpit Brutus.  Dec. 
And Cassius too.  Bru. 
Where's Publius?  Cin. 
here, quite confounded with this mutiny.  Met. 
Stand fast together, lest some Friend of Caesar's  
Should chance—  Bru. 
Talk not of standing. Publius' good cheer,  
There is no harm intended to your person,  
Nor to no Roman else: so tell them Publius.  Cassi. 
And leave us Publius, least that the people  
Rushing on us, should do your Age some mischief.  Bru. 
Do so, and let no man abide this deed,  
But we the Doers.  Enter Trebonius. Cassi. 
Where is Antony?  Treb. 
Fled to his House amazed:  
Men, Wives, and Children, stare, cry out, and run,  
As it were Doomsday.  Bru. 
Fates, we will know your pleasures:  
That we shall dye we know, 'tis but the time  
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.  Cask 
Why he that cuts off twenty years of life,  
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.  Bru. 
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.  Cassi. 
Stoop then, and wash. How many Ages hence  
Shall this our lofty Scene be acted over,  
In State unborn, and Accents yet unknown?  Bru. 
How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,  
That now on Pompey's Basis lie along,  
No worthier than the dust?  Cassi. 
So oft as that shall be,  
So often shall the knot of us be called,  
The Men that gave their Country liberty.  Dec. 
What, shall we forth?  Cassi. 
I, every man away.  
Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels  
With the most boldest, and best hearts of Rome.  Enter a Servant. Bru. 
Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's.  Ser. 
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 feared Caesar, honoured 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,  
Through the hazards of this untrod State,  
With all true Faith. So says my Master Antony.  Bru. 
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 untouched.  Ser. 
I'll fetch him presently.  Exit Servant. Bru. 
I know that we shall have him well to Friend.  Cassi. 
I wish we may: But yet have I a mind  
That fears him much: and my misgiving still  
Falls shrewdly to the purpose.  Enter Antony. Bru. 
But here comes Antony:  
Welcome Mark Antony.  Ant. 
O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low?  
Are all thy Conquests, Glories, Triumphs, Spoils,  
Shrunk to this little Measure? Far thee well.  
I know not Gentlemen what you intent,  
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:  
If I myself, there is no hour so fit  
As Caesar's deaths 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 dye.  
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.  Bru. 
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 do●e:  
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 Brother's temper, do receive you in,  
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.  Cassi. 
Your voice shall be as strong as any man's,  
In the disposing of new Dignities.  Bru. 
Only be patiented, 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 strooke him,  
Have thus proceeded.  Ant. 
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 Caska, yours;  
Though last, not least 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 Antony making his peace,  
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy Foes?  
Most Noble, in the presence of thy Coarse,  
Had I as many eyes, as thou hast wounds,  
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,  
It would become me better, then to close  
In terms of Friendship with thine enemies.  
Pardon me julius, here was't thou bayed brave Hart,  
here didst thou fall, and here thy Hunters stand  
Signed in thy Spoil, and Crimsoned in thy Lethee.  
O World! thou wast the Forest to this Hart,  
And this indeed, O World, the Hart of thee.  
How like a Deer, strooken by many Princes,  
Dost thou here lie?  Cassi. 
Mark Antony.  Ant. 
Pardon me Caius Cassius:  
The Enemies of Caesar, shall say this:  
Then, in a Friend, it is cold Modesty.  Cassi. 
I blame you not for praising Caesar so,  
But what compact mean you to have with us?  
Will you be pricked in number of our Friends,  
Or shall we on, and not depend on you?  Ant. 
Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed  
Swayed 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.  Bru. 
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.  Ant. 
That's all I seek,  
And am moreover suitor, that I may  
Produce his body to the Marketplace,  
And in the Pulpit as becomes a Friend,  
Speak in the Order of his Funeral.  Bru. 
You shall Mark Antony.  Cassi. 
Brutus, a word with you:  
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.  Bru. 
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, then do us wrong.  Cassi. 
I know not what may fall, I like it not.  Bru. 
Mark Antony, here take you Caesar's body:  
You shall not in your Funeral speech blame us,  
But speak all good you can device 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.  Ant. 
Be it so:  
I do desire no more.  Bru. 
Prepare the body then, and follow us.  Exeunt. Manet 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 open 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 quartered 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 Octauio's Servant. 
You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?  Ser. 
I do Mark Antony.  Ant. 
Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.  Ser. 
He did receive his Letters, and is coming,  
And bid me say to you by word of mouth—  
O Caesar!  Ant. 
Thy heart is big: get thee apart and weep:  
Passion I see is catching from mine eyes,  
Seeing those Beads of sorrow stand in thine,  
Began to water. Is thy Master coming?  Ser. 
He lies to night within seven Leagues of Rome.  Ant. 
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 course  
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 Enter Brutus and goes into the Pulpit, and Cassius, with the Plebeians. Ple. 
We will be satisfied: let us be satisfied▪  Bru. 
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.  1. Ple. 
I will hear Brutus speak.  2. 
I will hear Cassius, and compare their Reasons,  
When severally we hear them rendered.  3. 
The Noble Brutus is ascended: Silence.  Bru. 
Be patiented 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 dye all Slaves; then that Caesar were dead, to live all Freemen? 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 Mark Antony, 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 departed, 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.  1. 
Bring him with Triumph home unto his house.  2. 
Give him a Statue with his Ancestors.  3. 
Let him be Caesar.  4. 
Caesar's better parts,  
Shall be Crowned in Brutus.  1. 
we'll bring him to his House,  
With Shouts and Clamours.  Bru. 
My Countrymen.  2. 
Peace, silence, Brutus speaks.  1. 
Peace ho.  Bru. 
Good Countrymen, let me departed alone,  
And (for my sake) stay here with Antony:  
Do grace to Caesar's Corpses, and grace his Speech  
Tending to Caesar's Glories, which Mark Antony  
(By our permission) is allowed to make.  
I do entreat you, not a man departed,  
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.  Exit 1 
Stay ho, and let us hear Mark Antony.  3 
Let him go up into the public Chair,  
we'll hear him: Noble Antony go up.  Ant. 
For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you.  4 
What does he say of Brutus?  3 
He says, for Brutus' sake  
He finds himself beholding to us all.  4 
'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here?  1 
This Caesar was a Tyrant.  3 
Nay that's certain:  
We are blessed that Rome is rid of him.  2 
Peace, let us hear what Antony can say.  Ant. 
You gentle Romans.  All. 
Peace ho, let us hear him.  An. 
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears:  
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him:  
The evil that men do, life's 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 answered it.  
here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest  
(For Brutus is an Honourable man,  
So are they all; all Honourable m●n)  
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 judgement! thou are 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.  1 
Me thinks there is much reason in his sayings.  2 
If thou consider rightly of the matter,  
Caesar has had great wrong.  3 
Has he Masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.  4. 
Marked ye his words? he would not take the Crown,  
Therefore 'tis certain, he was not Ambitious.  1. 
If it be found so, some will dear abide it.  2. 
Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping.  3. 
There's not a Nobler man in Rome then Antony.  4. 
Now mark him, he gins again to speak.  Ant. 
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.  4 
we'll hear the Will, read it Mark Antony.  All. 
The Will, the Will; we will hear Caesar's Will.  Ant. 
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, hearing 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?  4 
Read the Will, we'll hear it Antony:  
You shall read us the Will, Caesar's Will.  Ant. 
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 stabbed Caesar: I do fear it.  4 
They were Traitors: Honourable men?  All. 
The Will, the Testament.  2 
They were Villains, Murderers: the Will, read the Will.  Ant. 
You will compel me then to read the Will:  
Then make a Ring about the Corpses of Caesar,  
And let me show you him that made the Will:  
Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?  All. 
Come down.  2 
Descend.  3 
You shall have leave.  4 
A Ring, stand round.  1 
Stand from the Hearse, stand from the Body.  2 
Room for Antony, most Noble Antony.  Ant. 
Nay press not so upon me, stand fare off.  All. 
Stand back: room, bear back.  Ant. 
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 Neruij.  
Look, in this place ran Cassius Dagger through:  
See what a rent the envious Caska made:  
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed,  
And as he plucked his cursed Steel away:  
Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it,  
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved  
If Brutus so unkindly knocked, 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 vanquished him: then burst his Mighty heart,  
And in his Mantle, muffling up his face,  
Even at the Base of Pompey's Statue  
(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 flourished 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, marred as you see with Traitors.  1. 
O piteous spectacle!  2. 
O Noble Caesar!  3. 
O woeful day!  4. 
O Traitors, Villains!  1. 
O most bloody sight!  2. 
We will be revenged: Revenge  
About, seek, burn, fire, kill, slay,  
Let not a Traitor live.  Ant. 
Stay Countrymen.  1. 
Peace there, hear the Noble Antony.  2. 
we'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.  Ant. 
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 writ 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.  1 
we'll burn the house of Brutus.  3 
Away then, come, seek the Conspirators.  Ant. 
Yet hear me Countrymen, yet hear me speak  All. 
Peace ho, hear Antony, most Noble Antony.  Ant. 
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 Wil.  Ant. 
here is the Will, and under Caesar's Seal:  
To every Roman Citizen he gives,  
To every several man, seventy five Drachmas.  2 Ple. 
Most Noble Caesar, we'll revenge his death.  3 Ple. 
O Royal Caesar.  Ant. 
Hear me with patience.  All. 
Peace ho  Ant. 
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?  1. Ple. 
Never, never: come, away, away:  
we'll burn his body in the holy place,  
And with the Brands fire the Traitor's houses.  
Take up the body.  2. Ple. 
Go fetch fire.  3. Ple. 
Pluck down Benches.  4. Ple. 
Pluck down Forms, Windows, any thing.  Exit Plebeians. Ant. 
Now let it work: Mischief thou art afoot,  
Take thou what course thou wilt.  
How now Fellow?  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.  Ant. 
Where is he?  Ser. 
He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.  Ant. 
And thither will I strait, to visit him:  
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,  
And in this mood will give us any thing.  Ser. 
I heard him say, Brutus' and Cassius  
Are rid like Madmen through the Gates of Rome.  Ant. 
Belike they had some notice of the people  
How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius.  Exeunt Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians. Cinna. 
I dreamt to night, that I did feast with Caesar,  
And things unluckily charge my Fantasy:  
I have no will to wander forth of doors,  
Yet something leads me forth.  1. 
What is your name?  2. 
Whether are you going?  3. 
Where do you dwell?  4. 
Are you a married man, or a Bachelor?  2. 
Answer every man directly.  1. 
I, and briefly.  4. 
I, and wisely.  3. 
I, and truly, you were best.  Cin. 
What is my name? Whether 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.  2 
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. 
Directly I am going to Caesar's Funeral.  1. 
As a Friend, or an Enemy?  Cinna. 
As a friend.  2. 
That matter is answered directly.  4. 
For your dwelling: briefly.  Cinna. 
Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.  3. 
Your name sir, truly.  Cinna. 
Truly, my name is Cinna.  1. 
Tear him to pieces, he's a Conspirator.  Cinna, 
I am Cinna the Poet I am Cinna the Poet.  4. 
Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad Verses.  Cin. 
I am not Cinna the Conspirator.  4. 
It is no matter, his name's Cinna, pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.  3. 
Tear him, tear him; Come Brands ho, Firebrands: to Brutus, to Cassius', burn all. Some to Decius' House, and some to Caska's; some to Ligarius: Away, go.  Exeunt all that Plebeians.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus. Ant. 
These many then shall die, their names are pricked  Octa. 
Your Brother too must dye: consent you Lepidus?  Lep. 
I do consent.  Octa. 
Prick him down Antony.  Lep. 
Upon condition Publius shall not live,  
Who is your Sister's son, Mark Antony.  Ant. 
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.  Lep. 
What? shall I find you here?  Octa. 
Or here, or at the Capitol.  Exit Lepidus Ant. 
This is a slight meritable man,  
Meet to be sent on Errands: is it fit  
The threefold World divided, he should stand  
One of the three to share it?  Octa. 
So you thought him,  
And took his voice who should be pricked to dye  
In our black Sentence and Proscription.  Ant. 
Octavius, I have seen more days than you,  
And though we lay these Honours on this man,  
To ease ourselves of diverse 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.  Octa. 
You may do your will:  
But he's a tried, and valiant Soldier.  Ant. 
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, governed by my Spirit,  
And in some taste, is Lepidus but so:  
He must be taught, and trained, and bid go forth:  
A barren spirited Fellow; one that feeds  
On Objects, Arts, and Imitations.  
Which out of use, and stal'de 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 strait make head:  
Therefore let our Alliance be combined.  
Our best Friends made, our means stretched,  
And let us presently go sit in Council,  
How covert matters may be best disclosed,  
And open Perils surest answered.  Octa. 
Let us do so: for we are at the stake,  
And bayed about with many Enemies,  
And some that smile have in their hearts I fear  
Millions of Mischiefs.  Exeunt Drum. Enter Brutus, lucilius, and the Army. Titinius and Pindarus meet them. Bru. 
Stand ho.  Lucil. 
Give the word ho, and Stand.  Bru. 
What now lucilius, is Cassius' near?  Lucil. 
He is at hand, and Pindarus is come  
To do you salutation from his Master.  Bru. 
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.  Pin. 
I do not doubt  
But that my Noble Master will appear  
Such as he is, full of regard, and Honour.  Bru. 
He is not doubted. A word lucilius  
How he received you: let me be resolved.  Lucil. 
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.  Bru. 
Thou hast described  
A hot Friend, cooling: Ever note lucilius,  
When Love gins 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:  Low March within. 
But when they should endure the bloody Spur,  
They fall their Crests, and like deceitful jades  
Sink in the Trial. Comes his Army on?  Lucil. 
They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered:  
The greater part, the Horse in general  
Are come with Cassius.  Enter Cassius and his Powers. Bru. 
Hark, he is arrived:  
March gently on to meet him.  Cassi. 
Stand ho.  Bru. 
Stand ho, speak the word along.  
Stand.  
Stand.  
Stand.  Cassi. 
Most Noble Brother, you have done me wrong.  Bru. 
judge me you Gods; wrong I mine Enemies?  
And if not so, how should I wrong a Brother.  Cassi. 
Brutus, this sober form of yours, hides wrongs,  
And when you do them—  Brut. 
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.  Cassi. 
Pindarus,  
Bid our Commanders lead their Charges off  
A little from this ground.  Bru. 
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 Manet Brutus and Cassius. Cassi. 
That you have wronged me, doth appear in this▪  
You have condemned, and noted Lucius Pella  
For taking Bribes here of the Sardians;  
Wherein my Letters, praying on his side,  
Because I knew the man was slighted off.  Bru. 
You wronged yourself to write in such a case.  Cassi. 
In such a time as this, it is not meet  
That every nice offence should bear his Comment.  Bru. 
Let me tell you Cassius, you yourself  
Are much condemned to have an itching Palm,  
To sell, and Mars your Offices for Gold  
To Undeservers.  Cassi. 
I, an itching Palm?  
You know that you are Brutus that speaks this,  
Or by the Gods, this speech were else your last.  Bru. 
The name of Cassius Honours this corruption,  
And Chastisement doth therefore hide his head.  Cassi. 
Chastisement?  Bru. 
Remember March, the Ideses of March remember:  
Did not great julius bleed for justice sake?  
What Villain touched 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,  
Then such a Roman.  Cassi. 
Brutus, bait not me,  
I'll not endure it: you forget yourself  
To hedge me in. I am a Soldier, I,  
Older in practice, Abler than yourself  
To make Conditions.  Bru. 
Go too: you are not Cassius.  Cassi. 
I am.  Bru. 
I say, you are not.  Cassi. 
Urge me no more, I shall forget myself:  
Have mind upon your health: Tempt me no farther.  Bru. 
Away slight man.  Cassi. 
Is't possible?  Bru. 
Hear me, for I will speak.  
Must I give way, and room to your rash Choler?  
Shall I be frighted, when a Madman stairs?  Cassi. 
O ye Gods, ye Gods, Must I endure all this?  Bru. 
All this? I more: Fret till your proud hart 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.  Cassi. 
Is it come to this?  Bru. 
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.  Cass. 
You wrong me every way:  
You wrong me Brutus:  
I said, an Elder Soldier, not a Better.  
Did I say Better?  Bru. 
If you did, I care not.  Cass. 
When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.  Brut. 
Peace, peace, you durst not so have tempted him.  Cassi. 
I durst not.  Bru. 
No.  Cassi. 
What? durst not tempt him?  Bru. 
For your life you durst not.  Cassi. 
Do not presume too much upon my Love,  
I may do that I shall be sorry for.  Bru. 
You have done that you should be sorry for.  
There is no terror Cassius in your threats:  
For I am Armed 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, then to wring  
From the hard hands of Peasant's, 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 answered 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.  Cassi. 
I denied you not.  Bru. 
You did.  Cassi. 
I did not. He was but a Fool  
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my hart:  
A Friend should bear his Friends infirmities;  
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.  Bru. 
I do not, till you practise them on me.  Cassi. 
You love me not.  Bru. 
I do not like your faults.  Cassi. 
A friendly eye could never see such faults.  Bru. 
A Flatterers would not, though they do appear  
As huge as high Olympus.  Cassi. 
Come Antony, and young Octavius come,  
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,  
For Cassius is weary of the World:  
Hated by one he love's, braved by his Brother,  
Checked like a bondman, all his faults observed,  
Set in a Notebook, learned, and conned 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 Pluto's 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 loued'st him better  
Than ever thou loued'st Cassius.  Bru. 
Sheath 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.  Cassi. 
Hath Cassius lived  
To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus.  
When grief and blood ill tempered, vexeth him?  Bru. 
When I spoke that, I was ill tempered too.  Cassi. 
Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.  Bru. 
And my heart too.  Cassi. 
O Brutus!  Bru. 
What's the matter?  Cassi. 
Have not you love enough to bear with me,  
When that rash humour which my Mother gave me  
Makes me forgetful.  Bru. 
Yes Cassius, and from henceforth  
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,  
he'll think your Mother chides, and leave you so.  Enter a Poet. Poet. 
Let me go in to see the Generals,  
There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet  
They be alone.  Lucil. 
You shall not come to them.  Poet. 
Nothing but death shall stay me.  Cas. 
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.  Cas. 
Ha', ha', how vildly doth this Cynic rhyme?  Bru. 
Get you hence sirrah: Saucy Fellow, hence.  Cas. 
Bear with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion.  Brut. 
I'll know his humour, when he knows his time:  
What should the Wars do with these ligging Fools?  
Companion, hence.  Cas. 
Away, away be gone.  Exit Poet Bru. 
lucilius and Titinius bid the Commanders  
Prepare to lodge their Companies to night.  Cas. 
And come yourselves, & bring Messala with you Immediately to us.  Bru. 
Lucius, a bowl of Wine.  Cas. 
I did not think you could have been so angry.  Bru. 
O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.  Cas. 
Of your Philosophy you make no use,  
If you give place to accidental evils.  Bru. 
No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.  Cas. 
Ha'? Portia?  Bru. 
She is dead.  Cas. 
How scaped I killing, when I croft you so?  
O insupportable, and touching loss!  
Upon what sickness?  Bru. 
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) swallowed fire.  Cas. 
And died so?  Bru. 
Even so.  Cas. 
O ye immortal Gods!  Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers. Bru. 
Speak no more of her: Give me a bowl of wine,  
In this I bury all unkindness Cassius.  Drinks Cas. 
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.  Enter Titinius and Messala. Brutus. 
Come in Titinius:  
Welcome good Messala:  
Now sit we close about this Taper here,  
And call in question our necessities.  Cass. 
Portia, art thou gone?  Bru. 
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.  Mess. 
Myself have Letters of the selfsame Tenure.  Bru. 
With what Addition.  Mess. 
That by proscription, and bills of Outlarie,  
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus',  
Have put to death, an hundred Senators.  Bru. 
Therein our Letters do not well agree:  
Mine speak of seventy Senators, that died  
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.  Cassi. 
Cicero one?  Messa. 
Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription  
Had you your Letters from your wife, my Lord?  Bru. 
No Messala.  Messa. 
Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?  Bru. 
Nothing Messala.  Messa. 
That me thinks is strange.  Bru. 
Why ask you?  
Hear you aught of her, in yours?  Messa. 
No my Lord.  Bru. 
Now as you are a Roman tell me true.  Messa. 
Then like a Roman, bear the truth I tell,  
For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.  Bru. 
Why farewell Portia: We must die Messala:  
With meditating that she must dye once,  
I have the patience to endure it now.  Messa. 
Even so great men, great losses should endure.  Cassi. 
I have as much of this in Art as you,  
But yet my Nature could not bear it so.  Bru. 
Well, to our work alive. What do you think  
Of marching to Philippi presently.  Cassi. 
I do not think it good.  Bru. 
Your reason?  Cassi. 
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, defence, and nimbleness.  Bru. 
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 gruged us Contribution.  
The Enemy, marching along by them,  
By them shall make a fuller number up,  
Come on refreshed, 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.  Cassi. 
Hear me good Brother.  Bru. 
Under your pardon. You must note beside,  
That we have tried the utmost of our Friends:  
O● 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.  Cassi. 
Then with your will go on: we'll along  
Ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.  Bru. 
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.  Cassi. 
No more, good night,  
Early to morrow will we rise, and hence.  Enter Lucius. Bru. 
Lucius my Gown: farewell good Messala,  
Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius,  
Good night, and good repose.  Cassi. 
O my dear Brother:  
This was an ill beginning of the night:  
Never come such division between our souls:  
Let it not Brutus.  Enter Lucius with the Gown. Bru. 
Every thing is well.  Cassi. 
Good night my Lord.  Bru. 
Good night good Brother.  Tit. Messa. 
Good night Lord Brutus.  Bru. 
Farewell every one.  Exeunt. 
Give me the Gown. Where is thy Instrument?  Luc. 
here in the Tent.  Bru. 
What, thou speakest drowsily?  
Poor knave I blame thee not, thou art ore-watched.  
Call Claudio, and some other of my men,  
I'll have them sleep on Cushions in my Tent.  Luc. 
Varrus, and Claudio.  Enter Varrus and Claudio. Var. 
Calls my Lord?  Bru. 
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.  Var. 
So please you, we will stand,  
And watch your pleasure.  Bru. 
I will it 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.  Luc. 
I was sure your Lordship did not give it me.  Bru. 
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.  Luc. 
I my Lord, an't please you.  Bru. 
It does my Boy:  
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.  Luc. 
It is my duty Sir.  Brut. 
I should not urge thy duty past thy might,  
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.  Luc. 
I have slept my Lord already.  Bru. 
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 slumbler!  
Layest 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 turned 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?  Bru. 
Why comest thou?  Ghost. 
To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.  Brut. 
Well: then I shall see thee again?  Ghost. 
I, at Philippi.  Brut. 
Why I will see thee at Philippi then:  
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest.  
Ill Spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.  
Boy, Lucius, Varrus, Claudio, Sirs: Awake:  
Claudio.  Luc. 
The strings my Lord, are false.  Bru. 
He thinks he still is at his Instrument▪  
Lucius, awake.  Luc. 
My Lord.  Bru. 
Didst thou dream Lucus, that thou so cried'st out?  Luc. 
My Lord, I do not know that I did cry.  Bru. 
Yes that thou didst: Didst thou see any thing?  Luc. 
Nothing my Lord.  Bru. 
Sleep again Lucius: Sirrah Claudio, Fellow,  
Thou: Awake.  Var. 
My Lord.  Claeu. 
My Lord.  Bru. 
Why did you so cry out sirs, in your sleep?  Both. 
Did we my Lord?  Bru. 
I: saw you any thing?  Var. 
No my Lord, I saw nothing.  Clau. 
Nor I my Lord.  Bru. 
Go, and commend me to my Brother Cassius:  
Bid him set on his Powers betimes before,  
And we will follow.  Both. 
It shall be done my Lord.  Exeunt  

Actus Quintus.  Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army. Octa. 
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.  Ant. 
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. Mes. 
Prepare you Generals,  
The Enemy comes on in gallant show:  
Their bloody sign of Battle is hung out,  
And something to be done immediately.  Ant. 
Octavius, lead your Battle softly on  
Upon the left hand of the even Field.  Octa. 
Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.  Ant. 
Why do you cross me in this exigent.  Octa. 
I do not cross you: but I will do so.  March. Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, & their Army. Bru. 
They stand, and would have parley.  Cassi▪ 
〈◊〉 fast Titinius, we must out and talk.  Octa. 
Mark Antony, shall we give sign of Battle?  〈◊〉 
No Caesar, we will answer on their Charge.  
Make forth, the Generals would have some words.  Oct. 
Stir not until the Signal.  Bru. 
Words before blows: is it so Countrymen?  Octa. 
Not that we love words better, as you do.  Bru. 
Good words are better than bad strokes Octavius.  An. 
In your bad strokes Brutus, you give good words  
Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart,  
Crying long live, Hail Caesar.  Cassi. 
Antony,  
The posture of your blows are yet unknown;  
But for your words, they rob the Hibla Bees,  
And leave them Hony-lesse.  Ant. 
Not stingless too.  Bru. 
O yes, and soundlesse too:  
For you have stolen their buzzing Antony,  
And very wisely threat before you sting.  Ant. 
Villains: you did not so, when your vile daggers  
Hacked one another in the sides of Caesar:  
You showed your teeth like Apes,  
And fawned like Hounds,  
And bowed like Bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet;  
Whilst damned Caska, like a Cur, behind  
Struck Caesar on the neck. O you Flatterers.  Cassi. 
Flatterers? Now Brutus thank yourself,  
This tongue had not offended so to day,  
If Cassius might have ruled.  Octa. 
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.  Brut. 
Caesar, thou canst not dye by Traitors hands,  
Unless thou bring'st them with thee.  Octa. 
So I hope:  
I was not borne to dye on Brutus Sword.  Bru. 
O if thou were't the Noblest of thy Strain,  
Youngman, thou couldst not dye more honourable.  Cassi. 
A peevish Schoolboy, worthless of such Honour  
Joined with a Masker, and a Reveller.  Ant. 
Old Cassius still.  Octa. 
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 stomaches.  Exit Octavius, Antony, and Army Cassi. 
Why now blow wind, swell Billow,  
And swim Bark:  
The Storm is up, and all is on the hazard.  Bru. 
Ho lucilius, hark, a word with you.  lucilius and Messala stand forth. Luc. 
My Lord.  Cassi 
Messala.  Messa. 
What says my General?  Cassi. 
Messala, this is my Birthday: as this very day  
Was Cassius borne. Give me thy hand Messala:  
Be thou my witness, that against my will  
(As Pompey was) am I compelled 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 parched,  
Gorging and feeding from our Soldiers hands,  
Who to Philippi here consorted us:  
This Morning are they fled away, and gone,  
And in their steeds, do Ravens, Crows, and Kites  
Fly over 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.  Messa. 
Believe not so.  Cassi. 
I but believe it partly,  
For I am fresh of spirit, and resolved  
To meet all perils, very constantly.  Bru. 
Even so lucilius.  Cassi. 
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 rests 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?  Bru. 
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.  Cassi. 
Then, if we lose this Battle,  
You are contented to be led in Triumph  
Thorough the streets of Rome.  Bru. 
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 Ideses 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.  Cassi. 
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.  Bru. 
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. Alarm. Enter Brutus and Messala. Bru. 
Ride, ride Messala, ride and give these Bills  
Unto the Legions, on the other side.  Loud Alarm. 
Let them set on at once: for I perceive  
But cold demeanour in Octauio's wing:  
And sudden push gives them the overthrow:  
Ride, ride Messala, let them all come down.  Exeunt Alarms. Enter Cassius and Titinius. Cassi. 
O look Titinius, look, the Villains fly:  
Myself have to mine own turned Enemy:  
This Ensign here of mine was turning back,  
I slew the Coward, and did take it from him.  Titin. 
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. Pind. 
Fly further off my Lord: fly further off,  
Mark Antony is in your Tents my Lord:  
Fly therefore Noble Cassius, fly fare off.  Cassi. 
This Hill is fare enough. Look, look Titinius  
Are those my Tents where I perceive the fire?  Tit. 
They are, my Lord.  Cassi. 
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.  Tit. 
I will be here again, even with a thought.  Exit. Cassi. 
Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill,  
My sight was ever thick: regard Titinius,  
And tell me what thou notest about the Field.  
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?  Pind. 
Above. O my Lord.  Cassi. 
What news?  Pind. 
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.  Cassi. 
Come down, behold no more:  
O Coward that I am, to live so long,  
To see my best Friend ta'en before my face.  Enter Pindarus. 
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 covered, as 'tis now,  
Guide thou the Sword— Caesar, thou art revenged,  
Even with the Sword that killed thee.  Pin. 
So, I am free,  
Yet would not so have been  
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius,  
Fare from this Country Pindarus shall run,  
Where never Roman shall take note of him.  Enter Titinius and Messala. Messa. 
It is but change, Titinius: for Octavius  
Is overthrown by Noble Brutus' power,  
As Cassius' Legions are by Antony.  Titin. 
These tidings will well comfort Cassius.  Messa. 
Where did you leave him.  Titin. 
All disconsolate,  
With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill.  Messa. 
Is not that he that lies upon the ground?  Titin. 
He lies not like the Living. O my heart!  Messa. 
Is not that he?  Titin. 
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.  Messa. 
Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.  
O hateful Error, Melancholies 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 engendered thee.  Tit. 
What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus?  Messa. 
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.  Tit. 
Hie you Messala,  
And I will seek for Pindarus the while:  
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 Romans part,  
Come Cassius Sword, and find Titinius hart.  Dyes Alarm. Enter Brutus, Messala, young Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and lucilius. Bru. 
Where, where Messala, doth his body lie?  Messa. 
Lo yonder, and Titinius mourning it.  Bru. 
Titinius face is upward.  Cato. 
He is slain.  Bru. 
O julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet,  
Thy Spirit walks abroad, and turns our Swords  
In our own proper Entrails.  Low Alarms. Cato. 
Brave Titinius,  
Look where he have not crowned dead Cassius.  Bru. 
Are yet two Romans living such as these?  
The last of all the Romans, far thee well:  
It is impossible, that ever Rome  
Should breed thy fellow. Friends I own 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 Tharsus 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,  
Labio and Flavio set our Battles on:  
'Tis three a clock, and Romans yet ere night,  
We shall try Fortune in a second fight.  Exeunt. Alarm. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, lucilius, and Flavius. Bru. 
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.  Enter Soldiers, and fight. 
And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus', I,  
Brutus my Country's Friend: Know me for Brutus.  Luc. 
O young and Noble Cato, art thou down?  
Why now thou diest, as bravely as Titinius,  
And may'st be honoured, being Cato's Son.  Sold. 
Yield, or thou diest.  Luc. 
Only I yield to dye:  
There is so much, that thou wilt kill me strait:  
Kill Brutus, and be honoured in his death.  Sold. 
We must not: a Noble Prisoner.  Enter Antony. 2. Sold. 
Room ho: tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.  1. Sold. 
I'll tell thee news. here comes the General,  
Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en my Lord.  Ant. 
Where is he?  Luc. 
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.  Ant. 
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 where Brutus be alive or dead,  
And bring us word, unto Octavius' Tent:  
How every thing is chanced.  Exeunt. Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius. Brut. 
Come poor remains of friends, rest on this Rock.  Clit. 
Statillius showed the Torchlight, but my Lord  
He came not back: he is or ta'en, or slain.  Brut. 
Sat thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word,  
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.  Clit. 
What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World.  Brut. 
Peace then, no words.  Clit. 
I'll rather kill myself.  Brut. 
Hark thee, Dardanius.  Dard. 
Shall I do such a deed?  Clit. 
O Dardanius.  Dard. 
O Clitus.  Clit. 
What ill request did Brutus make to thee?  Dard. 
To kill him, Clitus: look he meditates.  Clit. 
Now is that Noble Vessel full of grief,  
That it runs over even at his eyes.  Brut. 
Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word.  Volum. 
What says my Lord?  Brut. 
Why this, Volumnius:  
The Ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me  
Two several times by Night: at Sardis, once;  
And this last Night, here in Philippi fields:  
I know my hour is come.  Volume. 
Not so, my Lord.  Brut. 
Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.  
Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes,  
Our Enemies have beat us to the Pit:  Low Alarms. 
It is more worthy, to leap in ourselves,  
Then tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,  
Thou knowst, 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.  Vol. 
That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.  Alarm still. Cly. 
Fly, fly my Lord, there is no tarrying here.  Bru. 
Farewell to you, and you, and you Volumnius.  
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep:  
Farewell to thee, to 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 far 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 laboured, to attain this hour.  Alarm. Cry within, Flye, fly, fly. Cly. 
Fly my Lord, fly.  Bru. 
Hence: I will follow:  
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?  Stra. 
Give me your hand first. Far you well my Lord.  Bru. 
Farewell good Strato.— Caesar, now be still,  
I killed not thee with half so good a will.  Dies. Alarm. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, Messala, lucilius, and the Army. Octa. 
What man is that?  Messa. 
My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master?  Stra. 
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.  Lucil. 
So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus  
That thou hast proved lucilius saying true,  Octa. 
All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.  
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?  Stra. 
I, if Messala will prefer me to you.  Octa. 
Do so, good Messala.  Messa. 
How died my Master Strato?  Stra. 
I held the Sword, and he did run on it.  Messa. 
Octavius, then take him to follow thee,  
That did the latest service to my Master.  Ant. 
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 mixed in him, that Nature might stand up,  
And say to all the world; This was a man.  Octa. 
According to his Virtue, let us use him  
Withal Respect, and Rites of Burial.  
Within my Tent his bones to night shall lie▪  
Most like a Soldier ordered Honourably:  
So call the Field to rest, and let's away,  
To part the glories of this happy day.  Exeunt omnes.  
FINIS.   

THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches. 1. 
WHen shall we three meet again?  
In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine?  2. 
When the Hurley-burley's done,  
When the battle's lost, and won.  3. 
That will be ere the set of Sun.  1. 
Where the place?  2. 
Upon the Heath.  3. 
There to meet with Macbeth.  1. 
I come, Gray-Malkin.  All. 
Padock calls anon: fair is foul, and foul is fair,  
Hover through the fog and filthy air.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Alarm within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain. King. 
What bloody man is that? he can report,  
As seemeth by his plight, of the Revolt  
The newest state.  Mal. 
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.  Cap. 
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 Villainies of Nature  
Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles  
Of Kerns and Gallowgrosses is supplied,  
And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling,  
Showed like a Rebel's Whore: but all's too weak:  
For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that Name)  
Disdaining Fortune, with his brandished Steel,  
Which smoked with bloody execution  
(Like Valour's Minion) carved out his passage,  
Till he faced the Slave:  
Which ne'er shaken hands, nor bad farewell to him,  
Till he vnseamed him from the Nave toth' Chaps,  
And fixed his Head upon our Battlements.  King. 
O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentlemen.  Cap. 
As whence the Sun 'gins his reflection,  
Shipwracked Storms, and direful Thunders:  
So from that Spring, whence comfort seemed to come,  
Discomfort swells: Mark King of Scotland, mark,  
No sooner justice had, with Valour armed,  
Compelled these skipping Kerns to trust their heels,  
But the Norweyan Lord, surveying vantage,  
With furbished Arms, and new supplies of men,  
Began a fresh assault.  King. 
Dismayed not this our Captains, Macbeth and Banquoh?  Cap. 
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.  King. 
So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds,  
They smack of Honour both: Go get him Surgeons.  Enter Rosse and Angus. 
Who comes here?  Mal. 
The worthy Thane of Rosse.  Lenox. 
What a haste looks through his eyes?  
So should he look, that seems to speak things strange.  Rosse. 
God save the King.  King. 
Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?  Rosse. 
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, leapt in proof,  
Confronted him with selfe-comparisons,  
Point against Point, rebellious Arm 'gainst Arm,  
Kerbing his lavish spirit: and to conclude,  
The Victory fell on us.  King. 
Great happiness.  Rosse. 
That now Sweno, the Norway's King,  
Craves composition:  
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,  
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes inch,  
Ten thousand Dollars, to our general use.  King. 
No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive  
Our Bosom interest: Go pronounce his present death,  
And with his former Title greet Macbeth.  Rosse. 
I'll see it done.  King. 
What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath won.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 1. 
Where hast thou been, Sister?  2. 
Killing Swine.  3. 
Sister, where thou?  1. 
A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lap,  
And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht:  
Give me, quoth I.  
Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cries.  
Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o' th' Tiger:  
But in a syve I'll thither sail,  
And like a Rat without a tail,  
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.  2. 
I'll give thee a Wind.  1. 
The art kind.  3. 
And I another.  1. 
I myself have all the other,  
And the very Ports they blow,  
All the Quarters that they know,  
I' th' Shipman's Card.  
I'll dreyne him dry as Hay:  
Sleep shall neither Night nor Day  
Hang upon his Penthouse Lid:  
He shall live a man forbid:  
Weary Seu'nights, 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.  2. 
Show me, show me.  1. 
Here I have a Pilots Thumb,  
Wracked, as homeward he did come.  Drum within. 3. 
A Drum, a Drum:  
Macbeth doth come.  All. 
The weyward 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 Charmes wound up.  Enter Macbeth and Banquo. Macb. 
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.  Banquo. 
How fare is't called to Soris? What are these,  
So withered, and so wild in their attire,  
That look not like th' Inhabitants o' th' 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 choppie finger laying  
Upon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,  
And yet your Beards forbidden me to interpret  
That you are so.  Mac. 
Speak if you can: what are you?  1. 
All hail Macbeth, hail to thee Thane of Glamis.  2. 
All hail Macbeth, hail to thee Thane of Cawdor.  3. 
All hail Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter.  Banq. 
Good Sir, why do you start, and seem to fear  
Things that do sound so fair? i th' 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 wrapped 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.  1. 
hail.  2. 
hail.  3. 
hail.  1. 
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.  2. 
Not so happy, yet much happier.  3. 
Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none:  
So all hail Macbeth, and Banquo.  1. 
Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail.  Macb. 
Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more:  
By Sinells' death, I know I am Thane of Glamis,  
But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor life's  
A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,  
Stands not within the prospect of belief,  
No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence  
You own this strange Intelligence, or why  
Upon this blasted Heath you stop our way  
With such Prophetic greeting?  
Speak, I charge you.  Witch's vanish. Banq. 
The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water has,  
And these are of them: whither are they vanished?  Macb. 
Into the Air: and what seemed corporal,  
Melted, as breath into the Wind.  
Would they had stayed.  Banq. 
Were such things here, as we do speak about?  
Or have we eaten on the insane Root,  
That takes the Reason Prisoner?  Macb. 
Your Children shall be Kings.  Banq. 
You shall be King.  Macb. 
And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?  Banq. 
Toth' selfsame tune▪ and words: who's here?  Enter Rosse and Angus. Rosse. 
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' th' selfsame day,  
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan Ranks▪  
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make  
Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale  
Can post with post, and every one did bear  
Thy praises in his Kingdom's great defence,  
And poured them down before him.  Ang. 
We are sent,  
To give thee from our Royal Master thanks,  
Only to harrold thee into his sight,  
Not pay thee▪  Rosse. 
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.  Banq. 
What, can the Devil speak true?  Macb. 
The Thane of Cawdor life's:  
Why do you dress me in borrowed Robes?  Ang. 
Who was the Thane, life's yet,  
But under heavy judgement 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 laboured  
In his Country's wrack, I know not:  
But Treasons Capital, confessed, and proved,  
Have overthrown him.  Macb. 
Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:  
The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains.  
Do you not hope your Children shall be Kings,  
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me,  
Promised no less to them.  Banq. 
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.  Macb. 
Two Truths are told,  
As happy Prologues to the swelling Act  
Of the Imperial Theme. I thank you Gentlemen:  
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 unfixe my Heir,  
And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribs,  
Against the use of Nature? Present Fears  
Are less than horrible Imagine:  
My Thought, whose Murder yet is but fantastical,  
Shakes so my single state of Man,  
That Function is smothered in surmise,  
And nothing is, but what is not.  Banq. 
Look how our Partner's rapt.  Macb. 
If Chance will have me King,  
Why Chance may Crown me,  
Without my stir.  Banq. 
Now Honours come upon him  
Like our strange Garments, cleave not to their mould,  
But with the aid of use.  Macb. 
Come what come may,  
Time, and the Hour, runs through the roughest Day.  Banq. 
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.  Macb. 
Give me your favour:  
My dull Brain was wrought with things forgotten.  
Kind Gentlemen, your pains are registered,  
Where every day I turn the Lease,  
To read them.  
Let us toward the King: think upon  
What hath chanced: and at more time,  
The Interim having weighed it▪ let us speak  
Our free Hearts each to other.  Banq. 
Very gladly.  Macb. 
Till then enough:  
Come friends.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, and Attendants. King. 
Is execution done on Cawdor?  
Or not those in Commission yet returned?  Mal. 
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  
Confessed 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.  King. 
There's no Art,  
To find the Minds construction in the Face:  
He was a Gentleman, on whom I built  
An absolute Trust.  Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus. 
O worthiest Cousin,  
The sin of my Ingratitude even now  
Was heavy on me. Thou art so fare 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, then more than all can pay.  Macb. 
The service, and the loyalty I own,  
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 Honor.  King. 
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.  Banq. 
There if I grow,  
The Harvest is your own.  King. 
My plenteous joys,  
Wanton in fullness, 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, Malcolme, 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 Envernes,  
And bind us further to you.  Macb. 
The Rest is Labour, which is not used for you:  
I'll be myself the Herbenger, and make joyful  
The hearing of my Wife, with your approach:  
So humbly take my leave.  King. 
My worthy Cawdor.  Macb. 
The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step,  
On which I must fall down, or else o're-leape,  
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. King. 
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.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Macbeths' Wife alone with a Letter. Lady. 
They met me in the day of success: and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them, then 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 weyward 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.  
Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be  
What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy Nature,  
It is too full o' th' Milk of humane 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'dst have, great Glamies that which cries,  
Thus thou must do, if thou have it;  
And that which rather thou dost fear to do,  
Then wishest should be undone. High thee hither,  
That I may pour my Spirits in thine Ear,  
And chastise with the valour of my Tongue  
All that impeides thee from the Golden Round,  
Which Fate and Metaphysical aid doth seem  
To have thee crowned withal.  Enter Messenger. 
What is your tidings?  Mess. 
The King comes here to Night.  Lady. 
Thou'rt mad to say it.  
Is not thy Master with him? who, were't so,  
Would have informed for preparation.  Mess. 
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. 
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, topful  
Of direst Cruelty: make thick my blood,  
Stop up th' access, and passage to Remorse,  
That no compunctious visit of Nature  
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between  
Th' effect, and hit. 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 palls 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 Glamys, worthy Cawdor,  
Greater than both, by the all-ha●le hereafter,  
Thy Letters have transported me beyond  
This ignorant present, and I feel now  
The future in the instant.  Macb. 
My dearest Love,  
Duncan comes here to Night.  Lady. 
And when goes hence?  Macb. 
To morrow, as he purposes.  Lady. 
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 th' 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.  Macb. 
We will speak further.  Lady. 
Only look up clear:  
To alter favour, ever is to fear:  
Leave all the rest to me.  Exeunt.  

Scena Sexta.  Oboes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants. King. 
This Castle hath a pleasant seat,  
The air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself  
Unto our gentle senses.  Banq. 
This Guest of Summer,  
The Temple-haunting Barlet does approve,  
By his loved Mansonry, that the Heaven's breath  
Smells wooingly here: no jutty frieze▪  
Buttrice, nor Coin of Vantage, but this Bird  
Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle,  
Where they must breed, and haunt: I have observed  
The air is delicate.  Enter Lady. King. 
See, see, our honoured 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-eyld us for your pains,  
And thank us for your trouble.  Lady. 
All our service,  
In every point twice done, and then done double,  
Were poor, and single Business, to contend  
Against those Honour's deep, and broad,  
Wherewith your Majesty loads our House:  
For those of old, and the late Dignities,  
Heaped up to them, we rest your Ermites'.  King. 
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.  La. 
Your Servants ever,  
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in count,  
To make their Audit at your Highness' pleasure,  
Still to return your own.  King. 
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  

Scena Septima.  Hoboys. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diverse Servants with Dishes and Service over the Stage. Than enter Macbeth. Macb. 
If it were done, when 'tis done, than 'twere well,  
It were done quickly: If th' Assassination  
Can trammell 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 School of time,  
we'd jump the life to come. But in these Cases,  
We still have judgement here, that we but teach  
Bloody Instructions, which being taught, return  
To plague th' Inventer, This even-handed justice  
Commends th' Ingredience of our poisoned 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 Duncane  
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-borne-Babe,  
Striding the blast, or Heaven's Cherubin, horsed  
Upon the sightless Curriors 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 ore-leapes itself,  
And falls on th' other.  Enter Lady. 
How now? What News?  La. 
He has almost supped: why have you left the chamber?  Mac. 
Hath he asked for me?  La. 
Know you not, he has?  Mac. 
We will proceed no further in this Business:  
He hath Honoured 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.  La. 
Was the hope drunk,  
Wherein you dressed 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 afeared  
To be the same in thine own Act, and Valour,  
As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that  
Which thou esteemest 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' th' Adage.  Macb. 
Prithee peace:  
I dare do all that may become a man,  
Who dares no more, is none.  La. 
What Beast was't then  
That made you break this enterprise to me?  
When you durst do it, than 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 plucked my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gums,  
And dashed the Brains out, had I so sworn  
As you have done to this.  Macb. 
If we should fail?  Lady. 
We fail?  
But screw your courage to the sticking place,  
And we'll not fail: when Duncan is asleep,  
(Whereto the rather shall his days hard journey  
Sound invite him) his two Chamberlains  
Will I with Wine, and Wassell, so convince,  
That Memory, the Warder of the Brain,  
Shall be a Fume, and the Receipt of Reason  
A Lymbeck only: when in Swinish sleep,  
Their drenched Natures lies as in a Death,  
What cannot you and I perform upon  
Th' unguarded Duncan? What not put upon  
His spongy Officers? who shall bear the guilt  
Of our great quell.  Macb. 
Bring forth Man-children only:  
For thy undaunted Mettle should compose  
Nothing but Males. Will it not be received,  
When we have marked with blood those sleepy two  
Of his own Chamber, and used their very Daggers,  
That they have done't?  Lady. 
Who dares receive it other,  
As we shall make our Griefs and Clamour roar,  
Upon his Death?  Macb. 
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.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him. Banq. 
How goes the Night, Boy?  Fleance. 
The Moon is down: I have not heard the Clock.  Banq. 
And she goes down at Twelve.  Fleance. 
I take't, 'tis later, Sir.  Banq. 
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?  Macb. 
A Friend.  Banq. 
What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed.  
He hath been in unusual Pleasure,  
And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices.  
This Diamond he greets your Wife withal,  
By the name of most kind Hostess,  
And shut up in measureless content.  Mac. 
Being unprepared,  
Our will became the servant to defect,  
Which else should free have wrought.  Banq. 
All's well.  
I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters:  
To you they have showed some truth.  Macb. 
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.  Banq. 
At your kindest leisure.  Macb. 
If you shall cleave to my consent,  
When 'tis, it shall make Honour for you.  Banq. 
So I lose none,  
In seeking to augment it, but still keep  
My Bosom franchised, and Allegiance clear,  
I shall be counselled.  Macb. 
Good repose the while.  Banq. 
Thanks Sir: the like to you.  Exit Banquo. Macb. 
Go bid thy Mistress, when my drink is ready,  
She strike upon the Bell. Get thee to bed.  Exit. 
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 marshallest me the way that I was going,  
And such an Instrument I was to use.  
Mine Eyes are made the fools o' th' 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 half World  
Nature seems dead, and wicked Dreams abuse  
The Curtained sleep: Witchcraft celebrates  
Pale Heccats Offerings: and withered Murder,  
Alarmed by his Sentinel, the Wolf,  
Whose howles his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,  
With Tarquin's ravishing sides, towards his design  
Moves like a Ghost. Thou sour and firme-set Earth  
Hear not my steps, which they may walk, for fear  
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,  
And take the present horror from the time,  
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he life's:  
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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Lady. La. 
That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:  
What hath quenched them, hath given me fire.  
Hark, peace: it was the Owl that shrieked,  
The fatal Bellman, which gives the sternest good-night.  
He is about it, the Doors are open:  
And the surfeited Grooms do mock their charge  
With Snores. I have drugged their Possets,  
That Death and Nature do contend about them,  
Whether they live, or dye.  Enter Macbeth. Macb. 
Who's there? what hoa?  Lady. 
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,  
And 'tis not done: th' 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.  
My Husband?  Macb. 
I have done the deed:  
Didst thou not hear a noise?  Lady. 
I heard the Owl schreame, and the Crickets cry.  
Did not you speak?  Macb. 
When?  Lady. 
Now.  Macb. 
As I descended?  Lady. 
I.  Macb. 
Hark, who lies i' th' second Chamber?  Lady. 
Donalbaine.  Mac. 
This is a sorry sight.  Lady. 
A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.  Macb. 
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 addressed them again to sleep.  Lady. 
There are two lodged together.  Macb. 
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. 
Consider it not so deeply.  Mac. 
But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?  
I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat.  Lady. 
These deeds must not be thought  
After these ways: so, it will make us mad.  Macb. 
Me thought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more:  
Macbeth does murder Sleep, the innocent Sleep,  
Sleep that knits up the ravelled Sleeve of Care,  
The death of each day's Life, sore Labours Bath,  
Balm of hurt Minds, great Nature's second Course,  
Chief nourisher in Life's Feast.  Lady. 
What do you mean?  Macb. 
Still it cried, Sleep no more to all the House:  
Glamis hath murdered Sleep, and therefore Cawdor  
Shall sleep no more: Macbeth shall sleep no more.  Lady. 
Who was it, that thus cried? why worthy Thane,  
You do unbend your Noble strength, to think  
So braine-sickly 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.  Macb. 
I'll go no more:  
I am afraid, to think what I have done:  
Look on't again, I dare not.  Lady. 
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 Gild.  Exit. Knock within. Macb. 
Whence is that knocking?  
How is't with me, when every noise appalls me?  
What Hands are here? hah: 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 incarnardine,  
Making the Green one, Red.  Enter Lady. Lady. 
My Hands are of your colour: but I shame  
To wear a Heart so white.  Knocke. 
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.  Knocke. 
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.  Macb. 
To know my deed,  Knocke. 
'Twere best not know myself.  
Wake Duncan with thy knocking:  
I would thou couldst.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter a Porter. Knocking within. Porter. 
Here's a knocking indeed: if a man were Porter of Hell Gate, he should have old turning the Key. Knock. Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there i' th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hanged himself on th' expectation of Plenty: Come in time, have Napkins enough about you, here you'll sweat for't. Knock. Knock, knock. Who's there in th' 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: oh come in, Equivocator. Knock. Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? I'faith here's an English Tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose: Come in Taylor, here you may roast your Goose. Knock. Knock, Knock. Never at quiet: What are you? but this place is too cold for Hell. I'll Devill-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all Professions, that go the Primrose way to th' everlasting Bonfire. Knock. Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.  Enter Macduff, and Lenox. Macd. 
Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed,  
That you do lie so late?  Port. 
Faith Sir, we were carousing till the second Cock:  
And Drink, Sir, is a great provoker of three things.  Macd. 
What three things does Drink especially provoke?  Port. 
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 too, and not stand too: in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the Lie, leaves him.  Macd. 
I believe, Drink gave thee the Lie last Night.  Port. 
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.  Enter Macbeth. Macd. 
Is thy Master stirring?  
Our knocking has awaked him: here he comes.  Lenox. 
Good morrow, Noble Sir.  Macb. 
Good morrow both.  Macd. 
Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?  Macb. 
Not yet.  Macd. 
He did command me to call timely on him,  
I have almost slipped the hour.  Macb. 
I'll bring you to him.  Macd. 
I know this is a joyful trouble to you:  
But yet 'tis one.  Macb. 
The labour we delight in, Physics pain:  
This is the Door.  Macd. 
I'll make so bold to call, for 'tis my limited service.  Exit Macduffe. Lenox. 
Goes the King hence to day?  Macb. 
He does: he did appoint so.  Lenox. 
The Night has been unruly:  
Where we lay, our Chimneys were blown down,  
And (as they say) lament heard i' th' Air;  
Strange Schreemes of Death,  
And Prophesying, with Accents terrible,  
Of dire Combustion, and confused Events,  
New hatched toth' woeful time.  
The obscure Bird clamoured the livelong Night.  
Some say, the Earth was fevorous,  
And did shake.  Macb. 
'Twas a rough Night.  Lenox. 
My young remembrance cannot parallel  
A fellow to it.  Enter Macduff. Macd. 
O horror, horror, horror,  
Tongue nor Heart cannot conceive, nor name thee.  Macb. and Lenox. 
What's the matter?  Macd. 
Confusion now hath made his Masterpiece:  
Most sacrilegious Murder hath broke open  
The Lords anointed Temple, and stole thence  
The Life o' th' Building.  Macb. 
What is't you say, the Life?  Lenox. 
Mean you his Majesty?  Macd. 
Approach the Chamber, and destroy your sight  
With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak:  
See, and then speak yourselves: awake, awake,  Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. 
Ring the Alarm Bell: Murder, and Treason,  
Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,  
Shake off this Downey sleep, Death's counterfeit,  
And look on Death itself: up, up, and see  
The great Doom's Image: Malcolme, Banquo,  
As from your Graves rise up, and walk like Sprights,  
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.  Bell rings. Enter Lady. Lady. 
What's the Business?  
That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley  
The sleepers of the House? speak, speak.  Macd. 
O gentle Lady,  
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:  
The repetition in a Woman's care,  
Would murder as it fell.  Enter Banquo. 
O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royal Master's murdered.  Lady. 
Woe, alas:  
What, in our House?  Ban. 
Too cruel, any where.  
Dear Duff, I prithee contradict thyself,  
And say, it is not so.  Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse. Macb. 
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 Malcolme and Donalbaine. Donal. 
What is amiss?  Macb. 
You are, and do not know't:  
The Spring, the Head, the Fountain of your Blood  
Is stopped, the very Source of it is stopped.  Macd. 
Your Royal Father's murdered.  Mal. 
Oh, by whom?  Lenox. 
Those of his Chamber, as it seemed, had done't:  
Their Hands and Faces were all badged with blood,  
So were their Daggers, which vnwiped, we found  
Upon their Pillows: they stared, and were distracted,  
No man's Life was to be trusted with them.  Macb. 
O, yet I do repent me of my fury,  
That I did kill them.  Macd. 
Wherefore did you so?  Macb. 
Who can be wise, amazed, temperate, & furious,  
Loyal, and Neutral, in a moment? No man:  
Th' expedition of my violent Love  
Outrun the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan,  
His Silver skin, laced with his Golden Blood,  
And his gashed Stabs, looked like a Breach in Nature,  
For Ruins wasteful entrance: there the Murderers,  
Steeped in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers  
Unmannerly breeched with gore: who could refrain,  
That had a heart to love; and in that heart,  
Courage, to makes love known?  Lady. 
Help me hence, hoa.  Macd. 
Look to the Lady.  Mal. 
Why do we hold our tongues,  
That most may claim this argument for ours?  Donal. 
What should be spoken here,  
Where our Fate hid in an augur hole,  
May rush, and seize us? Let's away,  
Our Tears are not yet brewed.  Mal. 
Nor our strong Sorrow  
Upon the foot of Motion.  Banq. 
Look to the Lady:  
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 vndivulged pretence, I fight  
Of Treasonous Malice.  Macd. 
And so do I.  All. 
So all.  Macb. 
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,  
And meet i' th' Hall together.  All. 
Well contented.  Exeunt. Malc. 
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.  Don. 
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.  Malc. 
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.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Rosse, with 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 know.  Rosse. 
Ha', good Father,  
Thou seest the Heavens, as troubled with man's Act,  
Threatens his bloody Stage: by th' Clock 'tis Day,  
And yet dark Night strangles the travailing 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 to wring in her pride of place,  
Was by a Mowsing Owl hawkt at, and killed.  Rosse. 
And duncan's Horses,  
(A thing most strange, and certain)  
Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race,  
Turned wild in nature, broke their s●lls, flung out,  
Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would  
Make War with Mankind.  Old man. 
'Tis said, they eat each other.  Rosse. 
They did so:  
To th' amazement of mine eyes that looked upon't.  Enter Macduffe. 
here comes the good macduff.  
How goes the world Sir, now?  Macd. 
Why see you not?  Ross. 
Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?  Macd. 
Those that Macbeth hath slain.  Ross. 
Alas the day,  
What good could they pretend?  Macd. 
They were subborned,  
Malcolme, and Donalbaine the King's two Sons  
Are stolen away and fled, which puts upon them  
Suspicion of the deed.  Rosse. 
'Gainst Nature still,  
Thriftless Ambition, that will raven up  
Thine own lives means: Then 'tis most like,  
The Sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.  Macd. 
He is already named, and gone to Scone  
To be invested.  Rosse. 
Where is duncan's body?  Macd. 
Carried to Colmekill,  
The Sacred Storehouse of his Predecessors,  
And Guardian of their Bones.  Rosse. 
Will you to Scone?  Macd. 
No Cousin, I'll to Fife.  Rosse. 
Well, I will thither.  Macd. 
Well may you see things well done there: Adieu  
Lest our old Robes sit easier than our new.  Rosse. 
Farewell, Father.  Old M. 
God's benison go with you, and with those  
That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.  Exeunt omnes   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Banquo. Banq. 
Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,  
As the weyard Women promised, and I fear  
Thou playd'st 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.  Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords, and Attendants. Macb. 
here's our chief Guest.  La. 
If he had been forgotten,  
It had been as a gap in our great Feast,  
And all-thing unbecoming.  Macb. 
To night we hold a solemn Supper sir,  
And I'll request your presence.  Banq. 
Let your Highness'  
Command upon me, to the which my duties  
Are with a most indissoluble tie  
For ever knit.  Macb. 
Ride you this afternoon?  Ban. 
I, my good Lord.  Macb. 
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 fare you ride?  Ban. 
As fare, 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.  Macb. 
Fail not our Feast.  Ban. 
My Lord, I will not.  Macb. 
We hear our bloody Cousins are bestowed  
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?  Ban. 
I, my good Lord: our time does call upon's.  Macb. 
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 Lords. 
Sirrah, a word with you: Attend those men  
Our pleasure?  Servant. 
They are, my Lord, without the Palace Gate.  Macb. 
Bring them before us.  Exit Servant. 
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 feared. '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 Anthony'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 hailed 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 wrenched with an unlineall Hand,  
No Son of mine succeeding: if it be so,  
For Banquo's Issue have I filled my Mind,  
For them, the gracious Duncan have I murdered,  
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 Seeds of Banquo Kings.  
Rather than so, come Fate into the Lift,  
And champion me to th' utterance.  
Who's there?  Enter Servant, and two Murderers. 
Now go to the Door, and stay there till we call.  Exit Servant. 
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?  Murth. 
It was, so please your Highness.  Macb. 
Well then,  
Now have you considered 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,  
Past in probation with you:  
How you were borne in hand, how crossed:  
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.  1. Murth. 
You made it known to us.  Macb. 
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 Gospelled, to pray for this good man,  
And for his Issue, whose heavy hand  
Hath bowed you to the Grave, and beggared  
Yours for ever?  1. Murth. 
We are men, my Liege.  Macb. 
I, in the Catalogue ye go for men,  
As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mongrels, Spaniels, Curs,  
Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipped  
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' th' 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.  2. Murth. 
I am one, my Liege,  
Whom the vile Blows and Buffets of the World  
Hath so incensed, that I am reckless what I do,  
To spite the World.  1. Murth. 
And I another,  
So weary with Disasters, tugged with Fortune,  
That I would set my Life on any Chance,  
To mend it, or be rid on't.  Macb. 
Both of you know Banquo was your Enemy.  Murth. 
True, my Lord.  Macb. 
So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,  
That every minute of his being, thrusts  
Against my nearest 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.  2. Murth. 
We shall, my Lord,  
Perform what you command us.  1. Murth. 
Though our Lives—  Macb. 
Your Spirits shine through you.  
Within this hour, at most,  
I will advice you where to plant yourselves,  
Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o' th' 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:  
Fleans, his Son, that keeps him company,  
Whose absence is no less material to me,  
Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate  
Of that dark hour: resolve yourselves apart,  
I'll come to you anon.  Murth. 
We are resolved, my Lord.  Macb. 
I'll call upon you strait: abide within,  
It is concluded: Banquo, thy Souls flight,  
If it find Heaven, must find it out to Night.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Macbeths' Lady, and a Servant. Lady. 
Is Banquo gone from Court?  Servant. 
I, Madame, but returns again to Night.  Lady. 
Say to the King, I would attend his leisure,  
For a few words.  Servant. 
Madame, I will.  Exit. Lady. 
Nought's had, all's spent,  
Where our desire is got without content:  
'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy,  
Then by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.  Enter Macbeth. 
How now, my Lord, why do you keep alone?  
Of sorryest 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.  Macb. 
We have scorched the Snake, not killed it:  
she'll close, and be herself, whilst our poor Malice  
Remains in danger of her former Tooth.  
But let the frame of things dis-joint,  
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,  
Then on the torture of the Mind to lie  
In restless ecstasy.  
Duncane is in his Grave:  
After Life's fitfull Fever, he sleeps well,  
Treason has done his worst: nor Steel, nor Poison,  
Malice domestic, foreign Levy, nothing,  
Can touch him further.  Lady. 
Come on:  
Gentle my Lord, sleek o'er your rugged Looks,  
Be bright and jovial among your Guests to Night.  Macb. 
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. 
You must leave this.  Macb. 
O, full of Scorpions is my Mind, dear Wife:  
Thou knowst, that Banquo and his Fleans life's.  Lady. 
But in them, Nature's Coppie's not eterne.  Macb. 
There's comfort yet, they are assaileable,  
Then be thou jocund: ere the Bat hath flown  
His Cloistered flight, ere to black Heccats 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. 
What's to be done?  Macb. 
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck,  
Till thou applaud the deed: Come, feeling 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 toth' Rookie Wood:  
Good things of Day begin to droop, and drowse,  
Whiles Night's black Agents to their Prey's do rouse.  
Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still,  
Things bade begun, make strong themselves by ill:  
So prithee go with me.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter three Murderers. 1. 
But who did bid thee join with us?  3. 
Macbeth.  2. 
He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers  
Our Offices, and what we have to do,  
To the direction just.  1. 
Then stand with us:  
The West yet glimmers with some streaks of Day.  
Now spurs the lated Traveller apace,  
To gain the timely Inn, end near approaches  
The subject of our Watch.  3. 
Hark, I hear Horses.  Banquo within. 
Give us a Light there, hoa.  2. 
Then 'tis he:  
The rest, that are within the note of expectation,  
Already are i' th' Court.  1. 
His Horses go about.  3. 
Almost a mile: but he does usually,  
So all men do, from hence toth' Palace Gate  
Make it their Walk.  Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch. 2. 
A Light, a Light.  3. 
'Tis he.  1. 
Stand too't.  Ban. 
It will be Rain to Night.  1. 
Let it come down.  Ban. 
O, Treachery!  
Fly good Fleans, fly, fly, fly,  
Thou may'st revenge. O Slave!  3. 
Who did strike out the Light?  1. 
Was't not the way?  3. 
There's but one down: the Son is fled.  2. 
We have lost  
Best half of our Affair.  1. 
Well, let's away, and say how much is done.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Quarta.  Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants. Macb. 
You know your own degrees, sit down:  
At first and last, the hearty welcome.  Lords. 
Thanks to your Majesty.  Macb. 
Ourself will mingle with Society,  
And play the humble Host:  
Our Hostess keeps her State, but in best time  
We will require her welcome.  La. 
Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends,  
For my heart speaks, they are welcome.  Enter first Murderer. Macb. 
See they encounter thee with their heart's thanks  
Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' th' midst,  
Be large in mirth, anon we'll drink a Measure  
The Table round. There's blood upon thy face.  Mur. 
'Tis Banquo's then.  Macb. 
'Tis better thee without, than he within.  
Is he dispatched?  Mur. 
My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him.  Mac. 
Thou art the best o' th' Cutthroats,  
Yet he's good that did the like for Fleans:  
If thou didst it, thou art the Non-pareill.  Mur. 
Most Royal Sir  
Fleans is scaped.  Macb. 
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 cabined, cribed, confined, bound in  
To saucy doubts, and fears. But Banquo's safe?  Mur. 
I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides,  
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;  
The least a Death to Nature.  Macb. 
Thanks for that:  
There the grown Serpent lies, the worm that's fled  
Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed,  
No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow  
we'll hear ourselves again.  Exit Murderer. Lady. 
My Royal Lord,  
You do not give the Cheer, the Feast is sold  
That is not often vouched, 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.  Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths' place. Macb. 
Sweet Remembrancer:  
Now good digestion wait on Appetite,  
And health on both.  Lenox. 
May't please your Highness sit.  Macb. 
Here had we now our Country's Honour, roofed,  
Were the graced person of our Banquo present:  
Who, may I rather challenge for unkindness,  
Then pity for Mischance.  Rosse. 
His absence (Sir)  
Lays blame upon his promise. Pleased your Highness  
To grace us with your Royal Company?  Macb. 
The Table's full.  Lenox. 
here is a place reserved Sir.  Macb. 
Where?  Lenox. 
here my good Lord.  
What is't that moves your Highness?  Macb. 
Which of you have done this?  Lords. 
What, my good Lord?  Macb. 
Thou canst not say I did it: never shake  
Thy gory locks at me.  Rosse. 
Gentlemen rise, his Highness is not well.  Lady. 
Sat 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?  Macb. 
I, and a bold one, that dare look on that  
Which might appall the Devil.  La. 
O proper stuff:  
This is the very painting of your fear:  
This is the Ayre-drawne-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  
Authorised by her Grandam: shame itself,  
Why do you make such faces? When all's done  
You look but on a stool.  Macb 
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.  La. 
What? quite vnmanned in folly.  Macb. 
If I stand here, I saw him.  La. 
Fie for shame.  Macb. 
Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time  
E'er humane Statute purged the gentle Weal:  
I, and since too, Murders have been performed  
Too terrible for the ear. The times has been,  
That when the Brains were out, the man would dye,  
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.  La. 
My worthy Lord  
Your Noble Friends do lack you.  Macb. 
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:  Enter Ghost. 
I drink to th' general joy o' th' 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.  Mac. 
Avaunt, & quit my sight, let the earth hide thee:  
Thy bones are marrowlesse, thy blood is cold:  
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes  
Which thou dost glare with.  La. 
Think of this good Peers▪  
But as a thing of Custom: 'Tis no other,  
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.  Macb. 
What man dare, I dare:  
Approach thou like the rugged Russian Bear,  
The armed Rhinoceros, or th' Hircan 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,  
Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone  
I am a man again: pray you sit still.  La. 
You have displaced the mirth,  
Broke the good meeting, with most admired disorder.  Macb. 
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 own,  
When now I think you can behold such sights,  
And keep the natural Ruby of your Cheeks,  
When mine is blanched with fear.  Rosse. 
What sights, my Lord?  La. 
I pray you speak not: he grows worse & worse  
Question enrages him: at once, good-night.  
Stand not upon the order of your going,  
But go at once.  Len. 
Good night, and better health  
Attend his Majesty.  La. 
A kind goodnight to all.  Exit Lords. Macb. 
It will have blood they say:  
Blood will have Blood:  
Stones have been known to move, & Trees to speak:  
Augurs, and understood Relations, have  
By Maggot Pies, & Choughes & Rooks brought forth  
The secretest man of Blood. What is the night?  La. 
Almost at odds with morning, which is which.  Macb. 
How sayest thou that Macduff denies his person  
At our great bidding.  La: 
Did you send to him Sir?  Macb. 
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 Feed. I will to morrow  
(And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters.  
More shall they speak: for now I am bend to know  
By the worst means, the worst, for mine own good,  
All causes shall give way. I am in blood  
Stepped in so fare, that should I wade no more,  
Returning were as tedious as go over:  
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand,  
Which must be acted, ere they may be scanned.  La. 
You lack the season of all Natures, sleep.  Macb. 
Come, we'll to sleep: My strange & self-abuse  
Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use:  
We are yet but young indeed.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat. 1. 
Why how now Hecat, you look angrily?  Hec. 
Have I not reason (Beldames) 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 called 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,  
Spightfull, and wrathful, who (as others do)  
Love's for his own ends, not for you.  
But make amends now: Get you gone,  
And at the pit of Acheron  
Meet me i' th' Morning: thither he  
Will come, to know his Destiny.  
Your Vessels, and your Spells provide,  
Your Charms, and every thing beside;  
I am for th' 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 distilled by Magic slights,  
Shall raise such Artificial Sprights,  
As by the strength of their illusion,  
Shall draw him on to his Confusion.  
He shall spurn Fate, scorn Death, and bear  
His hopes 'boue Wisdom, Grace, and Fear:  
And you all know, Security  
Is Mortals chiefest Enemy.  Music, and a Song. 
Hark, I am called▪ my little Spirit see  
Sits in a Foggy cloud, and stays for me.  Sing within. Come away, come away, etc. 1 
Come, let's make haste, she'll soon be  
Back again.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Sexta.  Enter Lenox, and another Lord. Lenox. 
My former Speeches,  
Have but hit your Thoughts  
Which can interpret farther: Only I say  
Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan  
Was pitied of Macbeth: marry he was dead:  
And the right valiant Banquo walked too late,  
Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans killed,  
For Fleans fled: Men must not walk too late.  
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous  
It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane  
To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact,  
How it did grieve Macbeth? Did he not strait  
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,  
That were the Slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep?  
Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too:  
For 'twould have angered 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 Fleans.  
But peace; for from broad words, and cause he failed  
His presence at the Tyrant's Feast, I hear  
Macduffe life's in disgrace. Sir, can you tell  
Where he bestows himself?  Lord. 
The Sons of Duncane  
(From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth)  
Life's 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 Seyward,  
That by the help of these (with him above)  
To ratify the Work) we may again  
Give to our Table's 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 their King, that he  
Prepares for some attempt of War.  Len. 
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.  Lenox. 
And that well might  
Advise him to a Caution, t●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   

Actus Quar●s.  

Scena Prima.  Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 1 
Thrice the brinded Cat hath mewed.  2 
Thrice, and once the Hedge-Pigge whined.  3 
Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time.  1 
Round about the Cauldron go:  
In the poisoned Entrails throw  
Toad, that under cold stone,  
Days and Nights, has thirty one:  
Sweltered Venom sleeping got,  
Boil thou first i' th' charmed pot.  All. 
Double, double, toil and trouble;  
Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble.  2 
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▪  
Adders Forke, and Blinde-wormes Sting,  
Lizards leg, and Owlets 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.  3 
Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf,  
Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulf  
Of the rauined salt Sea shark:  
Root of Hemlock, digged i' th' dark:  
Liver of Blaspheming jew,  
Gall of Goat, and Slips of Yew,  
Sliuered in the Moon's Eclipse:  
●ose of Turk, and Tartar's lips:  
Finger of Birth-strangled Babe,  
D●tch-deliuer'd by a Drab,  
Make the Gruel thick, and slab.  
Add thereto a Tigers Chawdron,  
For th' Ingredience of our Cawdron.  All. 
Double, double, toil and trouble,  
Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble.  2 
Cool it with a Baboons blood,  
Then the Charm is firm and good.  Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches. Hec. 
O well done: I commend your pains,  
And every one shall share i' th' gains:  
And now about the Cauldron sing  
Like Elves and Fairies in a Ring,  
Enchanting all that you put in.  Music and a Song. Black Spirits, etc. 2 
By the pricking of my Thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open Locks, who ever knocks.  Enter Macbeth. Macb. 
How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags?  
What is't you do?  All. 
A deed without a name.  Macb. 
I conjure you, by that which you Profess,  
(How ere 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, & 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 germane, tumble altogether,  
Even till destruction sicken: Answer me  
To what I ask you.  1 
Speak.  2 
Demand.  3 
we'll answer.  1 
Say, if th' hadst rather hear it from our mouths,  
Or from our Masters.  Macb. 
Call 'em: let me see 'em.  1 
Pour in Sow's blood, that hath eaten  
Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten  
From the Murderer's Gibbet, throw  
Into the Flame.  All. 
Come high or low:  
Thyself and Office deaftly show.  Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head. Macb. 
Tell me, thou unknown power.  1 
He knows thy thought:  
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.  1 Appar. 
Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth:  
Beware macduff,  
Beware the Thane of Fife: dismiss me. Enough.  He Descends. Macb. 
What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks  
Thou hast harped my fear aright. But one word more.  1 
He will not be commanded: here's another  
More potent than the first.  Thunder. 2 Apparation, a Bloody Child. 2 Appar. 
Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth.  Macb. 
Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.  2 Appar. 
Be bloody, bold, & resolute:  
Laugh to scorn  
The power of man: For none of woman borne  
Shall harm Macbeth.  Descends. Mac. 
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 3 Apparation, 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 too't.  3 Appar. 
Be Lion mettled, proud, and take no care:  
Who chases, who frets, or where Conspirers are:  
Macbeth shall never vanquished be, until  
Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill  
Shall come against him.  Descend. Macb. 
That will never be:  
Who can impress the Forest, bid the Tree  
Unfix his earthbound Root? Sweet boadments, good:  
Rebellious dead, rise never till the Wood  
Of Byrnan rise, and our high placed Macbeth  
Shall live the Lease of Nature, pay his breath  
To time, and mortal Custom. Yet my Hart  
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.  Macb. 
I will be satisfied. Deny me this,  
And an eternal Curse fall on you: Let me know.  
Why sinks that Cauldron? & what noise is this?  Oboes 1 
Show.  2 
Show.  3 
Show.  All. 
Show his Eyes, and grieve his Hart,  
Come like shadows, so departed.  A show of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glass in his hand. Macb. 
Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down:  
Thy Crown does sear mine Eyeballs. 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 ' th' crack of Doom?  
Another yet? A seaventh? I'll see no more:  
And yet the eight appears, who bears a glass,  
Which shows me many more: and some I see,  
That twofold Balls, and treble Sceptres carry.  
Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true,  
For the Blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me,  
And points at them for his. What? is this so?  1 
I Sir, all this is so. But why  
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?  
Come Sisters, cheer we up his sprights,  
And show the best of our delights.  
I'll Charm the Air to give a sound,  
While you perform your Antique round:  
That this great King may kindly say,  
Our duties, did his welcome pay.  Music. The Witches Dance, and vanish. Macb. 
Where are they? Gone?  
Let this pernicious hour,  
Stand aye accursed in the Calendar.  
Come in, without there.  Enter Lenox. Lenox. 
What's your Grace's will.  Macb. 
Saw you the Weyard Sisters?  Lenox. 
No my Lord.  Macb. 
Came they not by you?  Lenox. 
No indeed my Lord.  Macb. 
Infected be the Air whereon they ride,  
And damned all those that trust them. I did hear  
The galloping of Horse. Who was't came by?  Len. 
'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word:  
Macduff is fled to England.  Macb. 
Fled to England?  Len. 
I, my good Lord.  Macb. 
Time, thou anticipat'st 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 & done:  
The Castle of Macduff, I will surprise,  
Seize upon Fife; give to th' edge o' th' 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  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse. Wife. 
What had he done, to make him fly the Land?  Rosse. 
You must have patience Madam.  Wife. 
He had none:  
His flight was madness: when our Actions do not,  
Our fears do make us Traitors.  Rosse. 
You know not  
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.  Wife. 
Wisdom? to leave his wife, to leave his Babes,  
His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place  
From whence himself does fly? He love's 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.  Rosse. 
My dearest Cousin,  
I pray you school yourself. But for your Husband,  
He is Noble, Wise, judicious, and best knows  
The fits o' th' 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.  Wife. 
Fathered he is,  
And yet he's Fatherless.  Rosse. 
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 Rosse. Wife. 
Sirrah, your Father's dead,  
And what will you do now? How will you live?  Son. 
As Birds do Mother.  Wife. 
What with Worms, and Flies?  Son. 
With what I get I mean, and so do they.  Wife. 
Poor Bird,  
thou'dst 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.  Wife. 
Yes, he is dead:  
How wilt thou do for a Father?  Son. 
Nay how will you do for a Husband?  Wife. 
Why I can buy me twenty at any Market.  Son. 
Then you'll by 'em to sell again.  Wife. 
Thou speakest withal thy wit,  
And yet I' faith with wit enough for thee.  Son. 
Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?  Wife. 
I, that he was  Son. 
What is a Traitor?  Wife. 
Why one that swears, and lies.  Son. 
And be all Traitors, that do so.  Wife. 
Every one that does so, is a Traitor,  
And must be hanged.  Son. 
And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie?  Wife. 
Every one.  Son. 
Who must hang them?  Wife. 
Why, the honest men.  Son. 
Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there are Liars and Swearers enough, to beat the honest men, and hang up them.  Wife. 
Now God help thee, poor Monkey:  
But how wilt thou do for a Father?  Son. 
If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign, that I should quickly have a new Father.  Wife. 
Poor prattler, how thou talk'st?  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
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. Me thinks 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 Messenger Wife. 
Whether 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?  
What are these faces?  Enter Murderers. Mur. 
Where is your Husband?  Wife. 
I hope in no place so unsanctified,  
Where such as thou may'st find him.  Mur. 
He's a Traitor.  Son. 
Thou liest thou shagge-eared Villain.  Mur. 
What you Egg?  
Young fry of Treachery?  Son. 
He has killed me Mother,  
Run away I pray you.  Exit crying Murder.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Malcolme and Macduffe. Mal. 
Let us seek out some desolate shade, & there  
Weep our sad bosoms empty.  Macd. 
Let us rather  
Hold fast the mortal Sword: and like good men,  
Bestride our downfall Birthdome: 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 yelled out  
Like Syllable of Dolour.  Mal. 
What I believe, I'll wail;  
What know, believe; and what I can redress,  
As I shall find the time to friend: I wil  
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 touched you yet. I am young, but something  
You may discern of him through me, and wisdom  
To offer up a weak, poor innocent Lamb  
T' appease an angry God.  Macd. 
I am not treacherous.  Malc. 
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.  Macd. 
I have lost my Hopes.  Malc. 
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,  
What ever I shall think.  Macd. 
Bleed, bleed poor Country,  
Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure,  
For goodness dare not check thee: wear thou thy wrongs,  
The Title, is afeared. Far thee well Lord,  
I would not be the Villain that thou thinkest,  
For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Grasp,  
And the rich East to boot.  Mal. 
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 then ever,  
By him that shall succeed.  Macd. 
What should he be?  Mal. 
It is myself I mean: in whom I know  
All the particulars of Vice so grafted,  
That when they shall be opened, black Macbeth  
Will seem as pure as Snow, and the poor State  
Esteem him as a Lamb, being compared  
With my confinelesse harms.  Macd. 
Not in the Legions  
Of horrid Hell, can come a Devil more damned  
In evils, to top Macbeth.  Mal. 
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,  
Then such an one to reign.  Macd. 
Boundless intemperance  
In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath been  
Th' 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.  Mal. 
With this, there grows  
In my most ill-composed Affection, such  
A stanchlesse Avarice, that were I King,  
I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands,  
Desire his jewels, and this others 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.  Macd. 
This Avarice  
sticks deeper: grows with more pernicious root  
Then Summer-seeming Lust: and it hath been  
The Sword of our slain Kings: yet do not fear,  
Scotland hath Foysons, to fill up your will  
Of your mere Own. All these are portable,  
With other Graces weighed.  Mal. 
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 pour, I should  
Pour the sweet Milk of Concord, into Hell,  
Uproar the universal peace, confound  
All unity on earth.  Macd. 
O Scotland, Scotland.  Mal. 
If such a one be fit to govern, speak:  
I am as I have spoken.  Mac. 
Fit to govern? No not to live. O Nation miserable!  
With an untitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred,  
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?  
Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne  
By his own Interdiction stands accust,  
And does blaspheme his breed? Thy Royal Father  
Was a most Sainted-King: the Queen that bore thee,  
Oftener upon her knees, then on her feet,  
Died every day she lived. Far thee well,  
These Evils thou repeatest upon thyself,  
Hath banished me from Scotland. O my Breast,  
Thy hope ends here.  Mal. 
Macduff, this Noble passion  
Child of integrity, hath from my soul  
Wiped the black Scruples, reconciled my thoughts  
To thy good Truth, and Honor. 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  
Vnspeake 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 then life. My first false speaking  
Was this upon myself. What I am truly  
Is thine, and my poor Countries to command:  
Whither indeed, before they here approach  
Old Seyward 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?  Macd. 
Such welcome, and unwelcome things at once  
'Tis hard to reconcile.  Enter a Doctor. Mal. 
Well, more anon. Comes the King forth  
I pray you?  Doct. 
I 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.  Exit. Mal. 
I thank you Doctor.  Macd. 
What's the Disease he means?  Mal. 
'tis called 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 swollen 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 Rosse. Macd. 
See who comes here.  Malc. 
My Countryman: but yet I know him nor.  Macd. 
My ever gentle Cousin, welcome hither.  Malc. 
I know him now. Good God betimes remove  
The means that makes us Strangers.  Rosse. 
Sir, Amen.  Macd. 
Stands Scotland where it did?  Rosse. 
Alas poor Country,  
Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot  
Be called 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 marked: Where violent sorrow seems  
A Modern ecstasy: The Dedman's knell,  
Is there scarce asked for who, and good men's lives  
Expire before the Flowers in their Caps,  
Dying, or ere they sicken.  Macd. 
Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true.  Malc. 
What's the newest grief?  Rosse. 
That of an hour's age, doth hisse the speaker,  
Each minute teems a new one.  Macd. 
How does my Wife?  Rosse. 
Why well.  Macd. 
And all my Children?  Rosse. 
Well too.  Macd. 
The Tyrant has not battered at their peace?  Rosse. 
No, they were well at peace, when I did leave 'em  Macd. 
Be not a niggard of your speech: How gosed?  Rosse. 
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 witnessed the rather,  
For that I saw the Tyrant's Power afoot.  
Now is the time of help: your eye in Scotland  
Would create Soldiers, make our women fight,  
To doff their dire distresses.  Malc. 
Be't their comfort  
We are coming thither: Gracious England hath  
Lent us good Seyward, and ten thousand men,  
An older, and a better Soldier, none  
That Christendom gives out.  Rosse. 
Would I could answer  
This comfort with the like. But I have words  
That would be howled out in the desert air,  
Where hearing should not latch them.  Macd. 
What concern they,  
The general cause, or is it a Fee-griefe  
Due to some single breast?  Rosse. 
No mind that's honest  
But in it shares some woe, though the main part  
Pertains to you alone.  Macd. 
If it be mine  
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.  Rosse. 
Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,  
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound  
That ever yet they heard.  Macd. 
Humh: I guess at it.  Rosse, 
Your Castle is surprised: your Wife, and Babes  
Savagely slaughtered: To relate the manner  
Were on the Quarry of these murdered Deer  
To add the death of you.  Malc. 
Merciful Heaven:  
What man, ne'er pull your hat upon your brows:  
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,  
Whispers the o'refraught heart, and bids it break.  Macd. 
My Children too?  Ro. 
Wife, Children, Servants, all that could be found.  Macd. 
And I must be from thence? My wife killed too?  Rosse. 
I have said.  Malc. 
Be comforted.  
Let's make us Medicines of our great Revenge,  
To cure this deadly grief.  Macd. 
He has no Children. All my pretty ones?  
Did you say All? Oh Hell-Kite! All?  
What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Dam  
At one fell swoop?  Malc. 
Dispute it like a man.  Macd. 
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 strooke for thee: Naught that I am,  
Not for their own demerits, but for mine  
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now.  Mal. 
Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let grief  
Convert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it.  Macd. 
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.  Mal. 
This time 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   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a Waiting Gentlewoman. Doct. 
I have too Nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?  Gent. 
Since his Majesty went into the Field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her Nightgown upon her, unlock her Closet, take forth paper, fold it, writ upon't, read it, afterwards Seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.  Doct. 
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?  Gent. 
That Sir, which I will not report after her.  Doct. 
You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.  Gent. 
Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.  Enter Lady, with a Taper. 
Lo you, here she comes: This is her very guise, and upon my life fast asleep: observe her, stand close.  Doct. 
How came she by that light?  Gent. 
Why it stood by her: she has light by her continually, 'tis her command.  Doct. 
You see her eyes are open.  Gent. 
I but their sense are shut.  Doct. 
What is it she does now?  
Look how she rubs her hands.  Gent. 
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.  Lad. 
Yet here's a spot.  Doct. 
Hark, she speaks, I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.  La. 
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 afeared? 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.  Doct. 
Do you mark that?  Lad. 
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.  Doct. 
Go too, go too:  
You have known what you should not.  Gent. 
She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known.  La. 
here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.  
Oh, oh, oh.  Doct. 
What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charged.  Gent. 
I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body.  Doct. 
Well, well, well.  Gent. 
Pray God it be sir.  Doct. 
This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.  Lad. 
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.  Doct. 
Even so?  Lady. 
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 Lady. Doct. 
Will she go now to bed?  Gent. 
Directly.  Doct. 
Fowl whisper 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.  Gent. 
Good night good Doctor.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox, Soldiers. Ment. 
The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,  
His Uncle Seyward, and the good Macduff.  
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes  
Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarm  
Excite the mortified man.  Ang. 
near Byrnan wood  
Shall we well meet them, that way are they coming.  Cath. 
Who knows if Donalbane be with his brother?  Len. 
For certain Sir, he is not: I have a File  
Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Son,  
And many unruffe youths, that even now  
Protest their first of Manhood.  Ment. 
What does the Tyrant.  Cath. 
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 distempered cause  
Within the belt of Rule.  Ang. 
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 lose about him, like a Giant's Robe  
Upon a dwarfish Thief.  Ment. 
Who then shall blame  
His pestered Senses to recoil, and start,  
When all that is within him, does condemn  
Itself, for being there.  Cath. 
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 Countries purge,  
Each drop of us.  Lenox. 
Or so much as it needs,  
To due the Sovereign Flower, and drown the Weeds:  
Make we our March towards Birnan.  Exeunt marching.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. 
Bring me no more Reports, let them fly all:  
Till Byrnane would remove to Dunsinane,  
I cannot taint with Fear. What's the Boy Malcolme?  
Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know  
All mortal Consequences, have pronounced me thus:  
Fear not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman  
Shall ere 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 sagge with doubt, nor shake with fear.  Enter Servant. 
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced Loon:  
Where got'st thou that Goose-looke.  Ser. 
There is ten thousand.  Macb. 
Geese Villain?  Ser. 
Soldier's Sir.  Macb. 
Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear  
Thou Lilly-liuered Boy. What Soldiers, Patch?  
Death of thy Soul, those Linen cheeks of thine  
Are Counsellors to fear. What Soldiers Whay-face?  Ser. 
The English Force, so please you.  Macb. 
Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart,  
When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push  
Will cheer me ever, or dis-eate me now.  
I have lived long enough: my way of life  
Is fall'n into the Seare, 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 steed,  
Curses, not loud but deep, Mouth-honour, breath  
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.  
Seyton?  Enter Seyton. Sey. 
What's your gracious pleasure?  Macb. 
What News more?  Sey. 
All is confirmed my Lord, which was reported.  Macb. 
I'll fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hacked.  
Give me my Armour.  Seyt. 
'Tis not needed yet.  Macb. 
I'll put it on:  
Send out more Horses, skirre the Country round,  
Hang those that talk of Fear. Give me mine Armour:  
How does your Patient, Doctor?  Doct. 
Not so sick my Lord,  
As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies  
That keep her from her rest.  Macb. 
Cure 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 stuffed bosom, of that perilous stuff  
Which weighs upon the heart?  Doct. 
Therein the Patient  
Must minister to himself.  Macb. 
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: hearest thou of them?  Doct. 
I my good Lord: your Royal Preparation  
Makes us hear something.  Macb. 
Bring it after me:  
I will not be afraid of Death and Bane,  
Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane.  Doct. 
Were I from Dunsinane away, and clear,  
Profit again should hardly draw me here.  Exeunt  

Scena Quarta.  Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, Seywards Son, Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldier's Marching. Malc. 
Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand  
That Chambers will be safe.  Ment. 
We doubt it nothing.  Syew. 
What wood is this before us?  Ment. 
The wood of Birnane.  Malc, 
Let every Soldier hue 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.  Sold. 
It shall be done.  Syw. 
We learn no other, but the confident Tyrant  
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure  
Our setting down before't.  Malc. 
'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.  Macd. 
Let our just Censures  
Attend the true event, and put we on  
Industrious Soldiership.  Sey. 
The time approaches,  
That will with due decision make us know  
What we shall say we have, and what we own:  
Thoughts speculative, their unsure hopes relate,  
But certain issue, strokes must arbitrate,  
Towards which, advance the war.  Exeunt marching  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Soldiers, with Drum and Colours. Macb. 
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 darefull, beard to beard,  
And beat them backward home. What is that noise?  A Cry within of Women. Sey. 
It is the cry of women, my good Lord.  Macb. 
I have almost forgot the taste of Fears:  
The time has been, my senses would have cooled  
To hear a Night-shricke, and my Fell of hair  
Would at a dismal Treatise rouse, and stir  
As life were in't. I have supped full with horrors,  
Direness familiar to my slaughterous thoughts  
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?  Sey. 
The Queen (my Lord) is dead.  Macb. 
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 yesterday, 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.  Mes. 
Gracious my Lord,  
I should report that which I say I saw,  
But know not how to do't.  Macb. 
Well, say sir.  Mes. 
As I did stand my watch upon the Hill  
I looked toward Byrnane, and anon me thought  
The Wood began to move.  Macb. 
Liar, and Slave.  Mes. 
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:  
Within this three Mile may you see it coming.  
I say, a moving Grove.  Macb. 
If thou speakest fhlse,  
Upon the next Tree shall 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 th' Equivocation of the Fiend,  
That lies like truth. Fear not, till Byrnane 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 weary of the Sun,  
And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.  
Ring the Alarm Bell, blow Wind, come wrack,  
At least we'll dye with Harness on our back.  Exeunt  

Scena Sexta.  Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army, with Boughs. Mal. 
Now near enough:  
Your levy Skreenes 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.  Sey. 
Far you well:  
Do we but find the Tyrant's power to night,  
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.  Macd. 
Make all our Trumpets speak, give them all breath  
Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.  Exeunt Alarms continued.  

Scena Septima.  Enter Macbeth. Macb. 
They have tied me to a stake, I cannot fly,  
But Bear-like I must fight the course. What's he  
That was not borne of Woman? Such a one  
Am I to fear, or none.  Enter young Seyward. Y. Sey. 
What is thy name?  Macb. 
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.  Y. Sey. 
No: though thou call'st thyself a hotter name  
Than any is in hell.  Macb. 
My name's Macbeth.  Y. Sey. 
The devil himself could not pronounce a Title  
More hateful to mine ear.  Macb. 
No: nor more fearful.  Y. Sey. 
Thou liest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword  
I'll prove the lie thou speakest.  Fight, and young Seyward slain. Macb. 
Thou was't borne of woman;  
But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorn,  
Brandished by man that's of a Woman borne.  Exit. Alarms. Enter Macduffe. Macd. 
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 Staffs; either thou Macbeth,  
Or else my Sword with an unbattered 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. Alarms. Enter Malcolme and Seyward. Sey. 
This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendered:  
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.  Malc. 
We have met with Foes  
That strike beside us.  Sey. 
Enter Sir, the Castle.  Exeunt. Alarm Enter Macbeth. Macb. 
Why should I play the Roman Fool, and dye  
On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes  
Do better upon them.  Enter Macduffe. Macd. 
Turn Hellhound, turn.  Macb. 
Of all men else I have avoided thee:  
But get thee back, my soul is too much charged  
With blood of thine already.  Macd. 
I have no words,  
My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villain  
Than terms can give thee out.  Fight: Alarm Macb. 
Thou losest labour,  
As easy may'st 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 borne.  Macd. 
Despair thy Charm,  
And let the Angel whom thou still hast served  
Tell thee, macduff was from his Mother's womb  
Untimely ripped.  Macb. 
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so;  
For it hath Cowed 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.  Macd. 
Then yield thee Coward,  
And live to be the show, and gaze o' th' time.  
we'll have thee, as our rarer Monsters are  
Painted upon a pole, and underwit,  
here may you see the Tyrant.  Macb. 
I will not yield  
To kiss the ground before young Malcolmes feet,  
And to be baited with the Rabbles curse.  
Though Byrnane would be come to Dunsinane,  
And thou opposed, being of no woman borne,  
Yet I will try the last. Before my body,  
I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on macduff,  
And damned be him, that first cries hold, enough.  Exeunt fight. Alarms. Enter Fight, and Macbeth slain. Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers. Mal. 
I would the Friends we miss, were safe arrived.  Sey. 
Some must go off: and yet by these I see,  
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.  Mal. 
macduff is missing, and your Noble Son.  Rosse. 
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 confirmed  
In the unshrinking station where he fought,  
But like a man he died.  Sey. 
Then he is dead?  Rosse. 
I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow  
Must not be measured by his worth, for than  
It hath no end.  Sey. 
Had he his hurts before?  Rosse. 
I, on the Front.  Sey. 
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 knolled.  Mal. 
he's worth more sorrow,  
And that I'll spend for him.  Sey. 
He's worth no more,  
They say he parted well, and paid his score,  
And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort▪  Enter macduff; with Macbeths' head. Macd. 
Hail King, for so thou art.  
Behold where stands  
Th' Usurper's cursed head: the time is free:  
I see thee compassed 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. Mal. 
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 Fiendlike 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 thankes to all at once, and to each one,  
Whom we invite, to see us Crowned at Scone.  Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.   
FINIS.   

THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, Prince of Denmark.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Bernardo and Francisco two Sentinels. Bernardo. 
WHo's there?  Fran. 
Nay answer me: Stand & unfold yourself.  Bar. 
Long live the King.  Fran. 
Bernardo?  Bar. 
He.  Fran. 
You come most carefully upon your hour.  Bar. 
'Tis now struck twelve, get thee to bed Francisco.  Fran. 
For this relief much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,  
And I am sick at heart.  Barn. 
Have you had quiet Guard?  Fran. 
Not a Mouse stirring.  Barn. 
Well, good-night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Rivals of my Watch, bid them make haste.  Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Fran. 
I think I hear them. Stand: who's there?  Hor. 
Friends to this ground.  Mar. 
And Liegemen to the Dane.  Fran. 
Give you good night.  Mar. 
O farewell honest Soldier, who hath relieved you?  Fra. 
Bernardo has my place: give you goodnight.  Exit Fran. Mar. 
Holla Bernardo.  Bar. 
Say, what is Horatio there?  Hor. 
A piece of him.  Bar. 
Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus.  Mar. 
What, has this thing appeared again to night.  Bar. 
I have seen nothing.  Mar. 
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.  Hor. 
Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.  Bar. 
Sat down awhile,  
And let us once again assail your ears,  
That are so fortified against our Story,  
What we two Nights have seen.  Hor. 
Well, sit we down,  
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.  Barn. 
Last night of all,  
When yond same Star that's Westward from the Pole  
Had made his course t' illume that part of Heaven  
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,  
The Bell then beating one.  Mar. 
Peace, break thee of:  Enter the Ghost. 
Look where it comes again.  Barn. 
In the same figure, like the King that's dead.  Mar. 
Thou art a Scholar; speak to it Horatio.  Barn. 
Looks it not like the King? Mark it Horatio.  Hora. 
Most like: It harrows me with fear & wonder  Barn. 
It would be spoke too.  Mar. 
Question it Horatio.  Hor. 
What art thou that usurpest 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.  Mar. 
It is offended.  Barn. 
See, it stalks away.  Hor. 
Stay: speak; speak: I Charge thee, speak.  Exit the Ghost. Mar. 
'Tis gone, and will not answer.  Barn. 
How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:  
Is not this something more than Fantasy?  
What think you on't?  Hor. 
Before my God, I might not this believe  
Without the sensible and true avouch  
Of mine own eyes.  Mar. 
Is it not like the King?  Hor. 
As thou art to thyself,  
Such was the very Armour he had on,  
When th' Ambitious Norwey combated:  
So frowned he once, when in an angry parley  
He smote the sledded Pole-axe on the Ice.  
'Tis strange.  Mar. 
Thus twice before, and just at this dead hour,  
With Martial stalk, hath he gone by our Watch.  Hor. 
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.  Mar. 
Good now sit down, & 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 Brazon 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?  Hor. 
That can I,  
At least the whisper goes so: Our last King,  
Whose Image even but now appeared to us,  
Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,  
(Thereto pricked on by a most emulate Pride)  
Dared to the Combat. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,  
(For so this side of our known world esteemed him)  
Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Sealed Compact,  
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldry,  
Did forfeit (with his life) all those his Lands  
Which he stood seized on, to the Conqueror:  
Against the which, a Moiety competent  
Was gauged by our King: which had returned  
To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,  
Had he been Vanquisher, as by the same Covenant  
And carriage of the Article design,  
His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras,  
Of unimproved Mettle, hot and full,  
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,  
Sharked up a List of Landless Resolutes,  
For Food and Diet, to some Enterprise  
That hath a stomach in't: which is no other  
(And it doth well appear unto our State)  
But to recover of us by strong hand  
And terms Compulsative, 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 posthaste, and Romage in the Land.  Enter Ghost again. 
But soft, behold: Lo, where it comes again:  
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.  
If thou art privy to thy Country's Fate  
(Which happily foreknowing may avoid) Oh speak.  
Or, if thou hast up-hoorded 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.  Mar. 
Shall I strike at it with my Partisan?  Hor. 
Do, if it will not stand.  Barn. 
'Tis here.  Hor. 
'Tis here.  Mar. 
'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.  Barn. 
It was about to speak, when the Cock crew.  Hor. 
And then it started, like a guilty thing  
Upon a fearful Summons. I have heard,  
The Cock that is the Trumpet to the day,  
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,  
Th' extravagant, and erring Spirit, hies  
To his Confine. And of the truth herein,  
This present Object made probation.  Mar. 
It faded on the crowing of the Cock.  
Some says, 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 can walk abroad,  
The nights are wholesome, than no Planets strike,  
No Fairy talks, nor Witch hath power to Charm:  
So hallowed, and so gracious is the time.  Hor. 
So have I heard, and do in part believe it.  
But look, the Morn in Russet mantle clad,  
Walks o'er the dew of you high Eastern 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?  Mar. 
Let do't I pray, and I this morning know  
Where we shall find him most conveniently.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant. King. 
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 fare hath Discretion fought with Nature,  
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,  
Together with remembrance of ourselves.  
Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queen,  
Th' Imperial joyntresse of this warlike State,  
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,  
With one Auspicious, and one 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 barred  
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 failed 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.  Enter Voltemand and Cornelius. 
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 Bedrid, scarcely hears  
Of this his Nephew's purpose, to suppress  
His further gate 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 bearing of this greeting to old Norway,  
Giving to you no further personal power  
To business with the King, more than the scope  
Of these dilated Articles allow:  
Farewell and let your haste commend your duty.  Volt. 
In that, and all things, will we show our duty.  King. 
We doubt it nothing, hearty farewell.  Exit 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 lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg Laertes,  
That shall not be my Offer, not thy Ask?  
The Head is not more Native to the Heart,  
The Hand more Instrumental to the Mouth,  
Then is the Throne of Denmark to thy Father.  
What wouldst thou have Laertes?  Laer. 
Dread my 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 towards France,  
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.  King. 
Have you your Father's leave?  
What says Pollonius?  Pol. 
He hath my Lord:  
I do beseech you give him leave to go.  King. 
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?  Ham. 
A little more than kin, and less than kind.  King. 
How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?  Ham. 
Not so my Lord, I am too much i' th' Sun.  Queen. 
Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,  
And let thine eye look like a Friend on Denmark.  
Do not for ever with thy veiled lids  
Seek for thy Noble Father in the dust;  
Thou knowst 'tis common, all that lives must dye,  
Passing through Nature, to Eternity.  Ham. 
I Madam, it is common.  Queen. 
If it be;  
Why seems it so particular with thee.  Ham. 
Seems Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seems:  
'Tis not alone my Inky Cloak (good Mother)  
Nor Custommary suits of solemn Black,  
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,  
No, nor the fruitful River in the Eye,  
Nor the dejected behaviour of the Visage,  
Together with all Forms, Moods, shows 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. 
'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 Suruiver 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 vnschooled:  
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 Coarse, till he that died to day,  
This must be so. We pray you throw to earth  
This unprevayling 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,  
Then that which dearest Father bears his Son,  
Do I impart towards 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.  Qu. 
Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet:  
I prithee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.  Ham. 
I shall in all my best  
Obey you Madam.  King. 
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 Rouce, the Heavens shall bruit again,  
Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.  Exeunt Manet Hamlet. Ham. 
Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt,  
Thaw, and resolve itself into a Dew:  
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed  
His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God!  
How weary, stolen, flat, and unprofitable  
Seems to me all the uses of this world?  
Fie on't? Oh fie, 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 Satire: so loving to my Mother,  
That he might not beteene 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 followed my poor Father's body  
Like Niobe, all tears. Why she, even she.  
(O Heaven! A beast that wants discourse of Reason  
Would have mourned longer) married with mine Uncle,  
My Father's Brother: but no more like my Father,  
Then I to Hercules. Within a Month?  
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous Tears  
Had left the flushing of her gauled 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, Barnard, and Marcellus. Hor. 
Hail to your Lordship.  Ham. 
I am glad to see you well:  
Horatio, or I do forget myself.  Hor. 
The same my Lord,  
And your poor Servant ever.  Ham. 
Sir my good friend,  
I'll change that name with you:  
And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio?  Marcellus. Mar. 
My good Lord.  Ham. 
I am very glad to see you: good even Sir.  
But what in faith make you from Wittemberge?  Hor. 
A truant disposition, good my Lord.  Ham. 
I would not have 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 Elsenour?  
we'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.  Hor. 
My Lord, I came to see your Father's Funeral.  Ham. 
I pray thee do not mock me (fellow Student)  
I think it was to see my Mothers-Wedding.  Hor. 
Indeed my Lord, it followed hard upon.  Ham. 
Thrift, thrift Horatio: the Funeral Bakt-meats  
Did coldly furnish forth the Marriage Tables;  
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,  
Ere I had ever seen that day Horatio.  
My father, me thinks I see my father.  Hor. 
Oh where my Lord?  Ham. 
In my mind's eye (Horatio)  Hor. 
I saw him once; he was a goodly King.  Ham. 
He was a man, take him for all in all:  
I shall not look upon his like again.  Hor. 
My Lord, I think I saw him yesternight.  Ham. 
Saw? Who?  Hor. 
My Lord, the King your Father.  Ham. 
The King my Father?  Hor. 
Season your admiration for a while  
With an attended ear; till I may deliver  
Upon the witness of these Gentlemen,  
This marvel to you.  Ham. 
For Heaven's love let me hear.  Hor. 
Two nights together, had these Gentlemen  
(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch  
In the dead waist and middle of the night  
Been thus encountered. A figure like your Father,  
Armed at all points exactly, Cap a Pe,  
Appears before them, and with solemn march  
Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walked,  
By their oppressed and feare-surprized eyes,  
Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestiled  
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,  
Whereas they had delivered 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.  Ham. 
But where was this?  Mar. 
My Lord upon the platform where we watched.  Ham. 
Did you not speak to it?  Hor. 
My Lord, I did;  
But answer made it none: yet once me thought  
It lifted up it 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 vanished from our sight.  Ham. 
'tis very strange.  Hor. 
As I do live my honoured Lord 'tis true  
And we did think it writ down in our duty  
To let you know of it.  Ham. 
Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.  
Hold you the watch to Night▪  Both. 
We do my Lord.  Ham. 
Armed, say you?  Both. 
Armed, my Lord.  Ham. 
From top to toe?  Both. 
My Lord, from head to foot.  Ham. 
Then saw you not his face?  Hor. 
O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beaver up.  Ham. 
What, looked he frowningly?  Hor. 
A countenance more in sorrow then in anger.  Ham. 
Pale, or red?  Hor. 
Nay very pale.  Ham. 
And fixed his eyes upon you?  Hor. 
Most constantly.  Ham. 
I would I had been there.  Hor. 
It would have much amazed you.  Ham. 
Very like, very like: stayed it long?  Hor. 
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.  All. 
Longer, longer.  Hor. 
Not when I saw't.  Ham. 
His Beard was grisly? no.  Hor. 
It was, as I have seen it in his life,  
A Sable Silvered.  Ham. 
I'll watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake again.  Hor. 
I warrant you it will.  Ham. 
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 concealed this sight;  
Let it be triple in your silence still:  
And whatsoever else shall hap to night,  
Give it an understanding but no tongue;  
I will requite your loves; so, far ye well:  
Upon the Platform twixt eleven and twelve,  
I'll visit you.  All. 
Our duty to your Honour.  Exeunt. Ham. 
Your love, as mine to you: farewell.  
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 orewhelm them to men's eyes.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Laertes and Ophelia. Laer. 
My necessaries are embarked; Farewell:  
And Sister, as the Winds give Benefit,  
And Convoy is assistant; do not sleep,  
But let me hear from you.  Ophel. 
Do you doubt that?  Laer. 
For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favours,  
Hold it a fashion and a toy in Blood;  
A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;  
Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting  
The suppliance of a minute? No more.  Ophel. 
No more but so.  Laer. 
Think it no more:  
For nature crescent does not grow alone,  
In thews and Bulk: but as his Temple waxes,  
The inward service of the Mind and Soul  
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he love's you now,  
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmerch  
The virtue of his fear: but you must fear  
His greatness weighed, his will is not his own;  
For he himself is subject to his Birth:  
He may not, as unuallued persons do,  
Carve for himself; for, on his choice depends  
The sanctity and health of the weole 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 love's you,  
It fits your wisdom so fare to believe it;  
As he in his peculiar Sect and force  
May give his saying deed: which is no further,  
Then 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 unmastred importunity.  
Fear it Ophelia, fear it my dear Sister,  
And keep within 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 escapes not calumnious strokes,  
The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring  
Too oft before the 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.  Ophe. 
I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keep,  
As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother  
Do not as some ungracious Pastors do,  
Show me the steep and thorny way to Heaven;  
Whilst like a puffed and reckless Libertine  
Himself, the Primrose path of dalliance treads,  
And reaks not his own reed.  Laer. 
Oh, fear me not.  Enter Polonius. 
I stay too long; but here my Father comes:  
A double blessing is a double grace;  
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.  Polon. 
Yet here Laertes? Aboard, aboard for shame,  
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,  
And you are stayed for there: my blessing with you;  
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:  
The 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 vnhatched, vnfledged Comrade. Beware  
Of entrance to a quarrel: but being in  
Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.  
Give every man thine ear; but few thy voice:  
Take each man's censure; but reserve thy judgement:  
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;  
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gawdies  
For the Apparel oft proclaims the man.  
And they in France of the best rank and station,  
Are of a most select and generous cheff in that.  
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;  
For lone, oft loses both itself and friend:  
And borrowing dulls the edge of Husbandry.  
This above all; to thine own self 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.  Laer. 
Most humbly do I take my leave, my Lord.  Polon. 
The time invites you, go, your servants tend.  Laer. 
Farewell Ophelia, and remember well  
What I have said to you.  Ophe. 
'tis in my memory locked,  
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.  Laer. 
Farewell.  Exit Laer. Polon. 
What is't Ophelia he hath said to you?  Ophe. 
So please you, something touching the L. Hamlet.  Polon. 
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?  Ophe. 
He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders  
Of his affection to me.  Polon. 
Affection, puh. You speak like a green Girl,  
Vnsifted in such perilous Circumstance.  
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?  Ophe. 
I do not know, my Lord, what I should think.  Polon. 
Marry I'll teach you; think yourself a Baby,  
That you have ta'en his tenders for true pay,  
Which are not starling. Tender yourself more dearly;  
Or not to crack the wind of the poor Phrase,  
Roaming it thus, you'll tender me a fool.  Ophe. 
My Lord, he hath importuned me with love,  
In honourable fashion.  Polon. 
I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too.  Ophe. 
And hath given countenance to his speech,  
My Lord, with all the vows of Heaven.  Polon. 
I, springs to catch Woodcocks. I do know  
When the Blood burns, how Prodigal the Soul  
Gives 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. For this time Daughter,  
Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence;  
Set your entreatments at a higher rate,  
Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,  
Believe so much in him, that he is young,  
And with a larger tether may he walk,  
Then may be given you. In few, Ophelia,  
Do not believe his vows; for they are Brokers,  
Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show:  
But mere implorators of unholy Suits,  
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,  
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 too't, I charge you; come your ways.  Ophe. 
I shall obey my Lord.  Exeunt. Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus. Ham. 
The Air bites shrewdly: is it very cold?  Hor. 
It is a nipping and an eager air.  Ham. 
What hour now?  Hor. 
I think it lacks of twelve.  Mar. 
No, it is strooke.  Hor. 
Indeed I heard it not: than it draws near the season,  
Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walk.  
What does this mean my Lord?  Ham. 
The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,  
Keeps wassels and the swaggering upspring reels,  
And as he dreines his draughts of Rhenish down,  
The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out  
The triumph of his Pledge.  Horat. 
Is it a custom?  Ham. 
I marry ist;  
And to my mind, though I am native here,  
And to the manner borne: It is a Custom  
More honoured in the breach, than the observance.  Enter Ghost. Hor. 
Look my Lord, it comes.  Ham. 
Angels and Ministers of Grace defend us:  
Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damned,  
Bring with thee airs from Heaven, or blasts from Hell,  
Be thy events 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: Oh, oh, answer me,  
Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell  
Why thy Canonised bones Hearsed in death,  
Have burst their cerments, why the Sepulchre  
Wherein we saw thee quietly enurned▪  
Hath opened his ponderous and Marble jaws,  
To cast thee up again? What may this mean?  
That thou dead Coarse again in complete steel,  
Revisits thus the glimpses of the Moon,  
Making Night hideous? And we fools of Nature,  
So horridly to shake our disposition,  
With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Souls,  
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?  Ghost beckons Hamlet. Hor. 
It beckons you to go away with it,  
As if it some impartment did desire  
To you alone.  Mar. 
Look with what courteous action  
It wafts you to a more removed ground:  
But do not go with it.  Hor. 
No, by no means.  Ham. 
It will not speak: then will I follow it.  Hor. 
Do not my Lord.  Ham. 
Why, what should be the fear?  
I do not set my life at 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.  Hor. 
What if it tempt you toward the Flood my Lord?  
Or to the dreadful Sonnet of the Cliff,  
That beetles o'er his base into the Sea,  
And there assumes some other horrible form,  
Which might deprive your Sovereignty of Reason,  
And draw you into madness think of it?  Ham. 
It wafts me still: go on, I'll follow thee.  Mar. 
You shall not go my Lord.  Ham. 
Hold off your band.  Hor. 
Be ruled, you shall not go.  Ham. 
My fate cries out,  
And makes each petty Artery in this body,  
As hardy as the Nemian Lion's nerve:  
Still am I called? 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 & Hamlet. Hor. 
He waxes desperate with imagination.  Mar. 
Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.  Hor. 
Have after, to what issue will this come?  Mar. 
Something is rotten in the State of Denmark.  Hor. 
Heaven will direct it.  Mar. 
Nay, let's follow him.  Exeunt. Enter Ghost and Hamlet. Ham. 
Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.  Gho. 
Mark me.  Ham. 
I will.  Gho. 
My hour is almost come,  
When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames  
Must render up myself.  Ham. 
Alas poor Ghost.  Gho. 
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing  
To what I shall unfold.  Ham. 
Speak, I am bound to hear.  Gho. 
So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.  Ham. 
What?  Gho. 
I am thy Father's Spirit,  
Doomed 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 Prisonhouse;  
I could a Tale unfold, whose lightest word  
Would harrow up thy soul; frieze thy young blood,  
Make thy two eyes like Stars, start from their Spheres,  
Thy knotty and combined locks to part,  
And each particular hair to stand an end,  
Like Quills upon the fretful Porpentine:  
But this eternal blazon must not be  
To ears of flesh and blood; lift Hamlet, oh lift,  
If thou didst ever thy dear Father love.  Ham. 
Oh Heaven!  Gho. 
Revenge his foul and most unnatural Murder.  Ham. 
Murder?  Ghost. 
Murder most foul, as in the best it is;  
But this most foul strange, and unnatural.  Ham. 
Hast, hast me to know it,  
That 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 then the fat weed  
That rots itself in ease, on Lethe Wharfe,  
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now Hamlet hear:  
It's given out, that sleeping in mine 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.  Ham. 
O my Prophetic soul: mine Uncle?  Ghost. 
I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast  
With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous gifts.  
Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that have the power  
So to seduce? Won to to this shameful Lust  
The will of my most seeming virtuous Queen:  
Oh 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 linked,  
Will sat itself in a Celestiallbed, & prey on Garbage.  
But soft, me thinks I sent the Morning's Air;  
Brief let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard,  
My custom always in the afternoon;  
Upon my secure hour thy Uncle stole  
With juice of cursed Hebenon in a Viol,  
And in the Porches of mine ears did pour  
The leaperous Distilment; whose effect  
Holds such an enmity with blood of Man,  
That swift as Quicksilver, it courses through  
The natural Gates and Allies of the Body;  
And with a sudden vigour it doth posset  
And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milk,  
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;  
And a most instant Tetter baked 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, and Queen at once dispatched;  
Cut off even in the Blossoms of my Sin,  
Vnhouzzled, disappointed, unnaneld,  
No reckoning made, but sent to my account  
With all my imperfections on my head;  
Oh horrible, Oh 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 ought; leave her to heaven,  
And to those Thorns that in her bosom lodge,  
To prick and sting her. Far thee well at once;  
The Glow-worm shows the Matine to be near,  
And 'gins to pale his uneffectuall Fire:  
Adieu, adieu, Hamlet: remember me.  Exit. Ham. 
Oh all you host of Heaven! Oh Earth; what else?  
And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart;  
And you my sinews, grow not instant Old;  
But bear me stiffly up: Remember thee?  
I, 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 presures past,  
That youth and observation copied there;  
And thy Commandment all alone shall live  
Within the Book and Volume of my Brain,  
Unmixed with base matter; yes, yes, by Heaven:  
Oh most pernicious woman!  
Oh Villain, Villain, smiling damned Villain!  
My Tables, 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;  
So Uncle there you are: now to my word;  
It is; Adieu, Adieu, Remember me: I have sworned.  Hor. & Mar within. 
My Lord, my Lord.  Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Mar. 
Lord Hamlet.  Hor. 
Heaven secure him.  Mar. 
So be it.  Hor. 
Illo, ho, ho, my Lord.  Ham. 
Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come.  Mar. 
How isted my Noble Lord?  Hor. 
What news, my Lord?  Ham. 
Oh wonderful!  Hor. 
Good my Lord tell it.  Ham. 
No you'll reveal it.  Hor. 
Not I, my Lord, by Heaven.  Mar. 
Nor I, my Lord.  Ham. 
How say you then, would heart of man once think it?  
But you'll be secret?  Both. 
I, by Heaven, my Lord.  Ham. 
There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark  
But he's an arrant knave.  Hor. 
There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the Grave, to tell us this.  Ham. 
Why right, you are i' th' right;  
And so, without more circumstance at all,  
I hold it-fit that we shake hands, and part:  
You, as your business and desires 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.  Hor. 
These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord.  Ham. 
I'm sorry they offend you hearty:  
Yes faith, hearty.  Hor. 
There's no offence my Lord.  Ham. 
Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is my Lord,  
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'er mastered as you may. And now good friends,  
As you are Friends, Scholars and Soldiers,  
Give me one poor request.  Hor. 
What is't my Lord? we will.  Ham. 
Never make known what you have seen to night.  Both. 
My Lord, we will not.  Ham 
Nay, but swear't.  Hor. 
Infaith my Lord, not I  Mar. 
Nor I my Lord: in faith.  Ham. 
Upon my sword.  Marcell. 
We have sworn my Lord already.  Ham. 
Indeed, upon my sword, Indeed.  Gho. 
Swear.  Ghost cries under the Stage. Ham. 
Ah ha' boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there true-penny? Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge Consent to swear.  Hor. 
Propose the Oath my Lord.  Ham. 
Never to speak of this that you have seen.  
Swear by my sword.  Gho. 
Swear.  Ham. 
Hic & ubique? Then we'll shift for 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.  Gho. 
Swear.  Ham. 
Well said old Mole, canst work i' th' ground so fast?  
A worthy Pioneer, once more remove good friends.  Hor. 
Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange.  Ham. 
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.  
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio,  
Then are dreamt of in our Philosophy. But come,  
Here as before, never so help you mercy,  
How strange or odd so ere I bear myself;  
(As I perchance hereafter shall think meet  
To put an Antic disposition on:)  
That you at such time seeing me, never shall  
With Arms encumbered thus, or thus, head shake;  
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful Phrase;  
As well, we know, or we could and if we would,  
Or if we list to speak; or there be and if there 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. 
Swear.  Ham. 
Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen,  
With all my love I do commend me to you;  
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is,  
May do t' 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: Oh cursed spite,  
That ever I was borne to set it right.  
Nay, come let's go together.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo. Polon. 
Give him his money, and these notes Reynoldo.  Reynol. 
I will my Lord.  Polon. 
You shall do marvels wisely: good Reynoldo,  
Before you visit him you make inquiry  
Of his behaviour.  Reynol. 
My Lord, I did intent it.  Polon. 
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 encompassement 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,  
And thus I know his father and his friends,  
And in part him. Do you mark this Reynoldo?  Reynol. 
I, very well my Lord.  Polon. 
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.  Reynol. 
As gaming my Lord.  Polon. 
I, or drinking, fencing, swearing,  
Quarrelling, drabbing. You may go so fare.  Reynol. 
My Lord that would dishonour him.  Polon. 
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 out-breake of a fiery mind,  
A savageness in unreclaimed blood of general assault.  Reynol. 
But my good Lord.  Polon. 
Wherefore should you do this?  Reynol. 
I my Lord, I would know that.  Polon. 
Marry Sir, here's my drift,  
And I believe it is a fetch of warrant:  
You laying these slight sulleyes on my Son,  
As 'twere a thing a little soiled i' th' working:  
Mark you your party in converse; him you would sound,  
Having ever seen. In the prenominate crimes,  
The youth you breath of guilty, be assured  
He closes with you in this consequence:  
Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman.  
According to the Phrase and the Addition▪  
Of man and Country.  Reynol. 
Very good my Lord.  Polon. 
And then Sir does he this?  
He does: what was I about to say?  
I was about to say something: where did I leave?  Reynol. 
At closes in the consequence:  
At friend, or so, and Gentleman.  Polon. 
At closes in the consequence, I marry,  
He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,  
I saw him yesterday, or other day;  
Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say,  
There was he gaming, there o'er taken in's Rouse,  
There falling out at Tennis; or perchance,  
I saw him enter such a house of sail;  
Videlicet, a Brothel, or so forth. See you now;  
Your bait of falsehood, takes this Cape of truth;  
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach  
With windlesses, 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?  Reynol. 
My Lord I have.  Polon. 
God buy you; far you well.  Reynol. 
Good my Lord.  Polon. 
Observe his inclination in yourself.  Reynol. 
I shall my Lord.  Polon. 
And let him ply his Music.  Reynol. 
Well, my Lord.  Exit. Enter Ophelia. Polon. 
Farewell:  
How now Ophelia, what's the matter?  Ophe. 
Alas my Lord, I have been so affrighted.  Polon. 
With what, in the name of Heaven?  Ophe. 
My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber,  
Lord Hamlet with his doublet all unbraced,  
No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled,  
Ungartered, and down gived to his Ankle,  
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.  Polon. 
Mad for thy Love?  Ophe. 
My Lord, I do not know: but truly I do fear it.  Polon. 
What said he?  Ophe. 
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 stayed 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,  
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,  
And end his being. That done, he lets me go,  
And with his head over his shoulders turned,  
He seemed to find his way without his eyes,  
For out adores he went without their help;  
And to the last, bended their light on me.  Polon. 
Go with me, I will go seek the King,  
This is the very ecstasy of Love,  
Whose violent property foredoes itself,  
And leads the will to desperate Undertake,  
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?  Ophe. 
No my good Lord: but as you did command,  
I did repel his Letters, and denied  
His access to me.  Pol. 
That hath made him mad.  
I am sorry that with better speed and judgement  
I had not quoted him. I fear he did but trifle,  
And meant to wrack thee: but beshrew my jealousy:  
It seems 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, then hate to utter love.  Exeunt. 

Scena Secunda.  Enter King, Queen, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cumalijs. King. 
Welcome dear Rosincrance and Guildensterne.  
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 Hamlets transformation: so I call it,  
Since not th' 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 th' understanding of himself,  
I cannot deem of. I entreat you both,  
That being of so young days brought up with him:  
And since so Neighboured to his youth, and humour,  
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 Occasions you may glean,  
That opened lies within our remedy.  Qu. 
Good Gentlemen, he hath much talked 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 thankes  
As fits a King's remembrance.  Rosin. 
Both your Majesties  
Might by the Sovereign power you have of us,  
Put your dread pleasures, more into Command  
Then to Entreaty.  Guil. 
We both obey,  
And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,  
To lay our Services freely at your feet,  
To be commanded.  King. 
Thanks Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne.  Qu. 
Thanks Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance.  
And I beseech you instantly to visit  
My too much changed Son.  
Go some of ye,  
And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is.  Guil. 
Heaven's make our presence and our practices  
Pleasant and helpful to him.  Exit. Queen. 
Amen.  Enter Polonius. Pol. 
Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord,  
Are joyfully returned.  King. 
Thou still hast been the Father of good News.  Pol. 
Have I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege,  
I hold my duty, as I hold my Soul,  
Both to my God, one to my gracious King:  
And I do think, or else this brain of mine  
Hunts not the trail of Policy, so sure  
As I have used to do: that I have found  
The very cause of Hamlets Lunacy.  King. 
Oh speak of that, that I do long to hear.  Pol. 
Give first admittance to th' Ambassadors,  
My News shall be the News to that great Feast.  King. 
Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.  
He tells me my sweet Queen, that he hath found  
The head and source of all your Son's distemper.  Qu. 
I doubt it is no other, but the main,  
His Father's death, and our o're-hasty Marriage.  Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius. King. 
Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Friends:  
Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey?  Volt. 
Most fair return of Greetings, and Desires.  
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress  
His Nephew's Levies, which to him appeared  
To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak:  
But better looked 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 Norwey: and in fine,  
Makes Vow before his Uncle, never more  
To give th' assay of Arms against your Majesty.  
Whereon old Norwey, overcome with joy,  
Gives him three thousand Crowns in Annual Fee,  
And his Commission to employ those Soldiers  
So levied as before, against the Poleak:  
With an entreaty herein further shown,  
That it might please you to give quiet pass  
Through your Dominions, for his Enterprise,  
On such regards of safety and allowance,  
As therein are set down.  King. 
It likes us well:  
And at our more considered time we'll read,  
Answer, and think upon this Business.  
Mean time we thank you, for your well-tooke Labour.  
Go to your rest, at night we'll Feast together.  
Most welcome home.  Exit Ambass. Pol. 
This business is very 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.  Qu. 
More matter, with less Art.  Pol. 
Madam▪ I swear I use no Art at all:  
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pity,  
And pity it is 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, whilst she is mine,  
Who in her Duty and Obedience, mark,  
Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise.  The Letter. To the Celestial, and my Souls Idol, the most beautified Ophelia. 
That's an ill Phrase, a vild Phrase, beautified is a vild Phrase: but you shall hear these in her excellent white bosom, these.  Qu. 
Came this from Hamlet to her.  Pol. 
Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithful.  
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, oh most Best believe it. Adieu.  
Thine evermore most dear Lady, whilst this Machine is to him, Hamlet.  
This in Obedience hath my daughter showed me:  
And more above hath his soliciting,  
As they fell out by Time, by Means, and Place,  
All given to mine ear.  King. 
But how hath she received his Love?  Pol. 
What do you think of me?  King. 
As of a man, faithful and Honourable.  Pol. 
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 played the Desk or Table-book,  
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,  
Or looked 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 whereon now he raves,  
And all we wail for.  King. 
Do you think 'tis this?  Qu. 
It may be very likely.  Pol. 
Hath there been such a time, I'd fain know that,  
That I have positively said, 'tis so,  
When it proved otherwise?  King. 
Not that I know.  Pol. 
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. 
How may we try it further?  Pol. 
You know sometimes  
He walks four hours together, here  
In the Lobby.  Qu. 
So he has indeed.  Pol. 
At such a time I'll lose 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,  
And keep a Farm and Carters.  King. 
We will try it.  Enter Hamlet reading on a Book. Qu. 
But look where sadly the poor wretch Comes reading.  Pol. 
Away I do beseech you, both away,  
I'll board him presently.  Exit King & Queen. 
Oh give me leave. How does my good Lord Hamlet?  Ham. 
Well, God-a-mercy.  Pol. 
Do you know me, my Lord?  Ham. 
Excellent, excellent well: ye are a Fishmonger.  Pol. 
Not I my Lord.  Ham. 
Then I would you were so honest a man.  Pol. 
Honest, my Lord?  Ham. 
I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of two thousand.  Pol. 
That's very true, my Lord.  Ham. 
For if the Sun breed Maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing Carrion—  
Have you a daughter?  Pol. 
I have my Lord.  Ham. 
Let her not walk i' th' Sun: Conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend look too't.  Pol. 
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 fare gone, fare 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?  Ham. 
Words, words, words.  Pol. 
What is the matter, my Lord?  Ham. 
Between who?  Pol. 
I mean the matter you mean, my Lord.  Ham. 
Slanders Sir: for the Satirical slave says here, that old men have grey Beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick Amber, or Plum-Tree Gum: and that they have a plentiful lock of Wit, together with 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 you yourself Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could go backward.  Pol, 
Though this be madness,  
Yet there is Method in't: will you walk  
Out of the air my Lord?  Ham. 
Into my Grave?  Pol. 
Indeed that is out o' th' Air:  
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.  Ham. 
You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I will more willingly part withal, except my life, my life.  Polon. 
Far you well my Lord.  Ham. 
These tedious old fools.  Polon. 
You go to seek my Lord Hamlet; there he is.  Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne. Rosin. 
God save you Sir.  Guild. 
Mine honoured Lord?  Rosin. 
My most dear Lord?  Ham. 
My excellent good friends? How dost thou Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane▪ good Lads: How do ye both?  Rosin. 
As the indifferent Children of the earth.  Guild. 
Happy, in that we are not over-happy: on Fortune's Cap, we are not the very Button.  Ham. 
Nor the Soles of her shoe?  Rosin. 
Neither my Lord.  Ham. 
Then you live about her waste, or in the middle of her favour?  Guil. 
Faith, her privates, we.  Ham. 
In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true ● she is a Strumpet. What's the news?  Rosin. 
None my Lord; but that the World's grown honest.  Ham. 
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?  Guil. 
Prison, my Lord?  Ham. 
Denmark's a Prison.  Rosin. 
Then is the World one.  Ham. 
A goodly one, in which there are many Confines, Wards, and Dungeons; Denmark being one o' th' worst.  Rosin. 
We think not so my Lord.  Ham. 
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.  Rosin. 
Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis too narrow for your mind.  Ham. 
O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a King of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams.  Guil. 
Which dreams indeed are Ambition: for the very substance of the Ambitious, is merely the shadow of a Dream.  Ham. 
A dream itself is but a shadow.  Rosin. 
Truly, and I hold Ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.  Ham. 
Then are our Beggar's bodies; and our Monarches and outstretched Heroes the Beggar's Shadows: shall we to th' Court: for, by my faith I cannot reason?  Both. 
we'll wait upon you.  Ham. 
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 Elsonower?  Rosin. 
To visit you my Lord, no other occasion.  Ham. 
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thankes; 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.  Guil. 
What should we say my Lord?  Ham. 
Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were sent for; and there is a kind confession in your looks; which your modesties have not craft enough to colour, I know the good King & Queen have sent for you.  Rosin. 
To what end my Lord?  Ham. 
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-preserued 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.  Rosin. 
What say you?  Ham. 
Nay then I have an eye of you: if you love me hold not off.  Guil. 
My Lord, we were sent for.  Ham. 
I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery of your secricie 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 exercise; and indeed, it goes so heavenly 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, 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.  Rosin. 
My Lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.  Ham. 
Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights not me?  Rosin. 
To think, my Lord, if you delight not in Man, what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receive from you: we coated them on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you Service.  Ham. 
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 humorous man shall end his part in peace: the Clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' th' sear: and the Lady shall say her mind freely; or the blank Verse shall halt for't: what Players are they?  Rosin. 
Even those you were wont to take delight in the Tragedians of the City.  Ham. 
How chances it they travail? their residence both in reputation and profit was better both ways.  Rosin. 
I think their Inhibition comes by the means of the late Innovation?  Ham. 
Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the City? Are they so followed?  Rosin. 
No indeed, they are not.  Ham 
How comes it? do they grow rusty?  Rosin. 
Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wont pace; But there is Sir an airy of Children, little Yases, that cry out on the top of question; and are most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are afraid of Goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.  Ham. 
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 like most if their means are not better) their Writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own Succession.  Rosin. 
Faith there has been much to do on both sides: and the Nation holds it no sin, to tar 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.  Ham. 
Is't possible?  Guild. 
Oh there has been much throwing about of Brains.  Ham, 
Do the Boys carry it away?  Rosin. 
I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too.  Ham. 
It is not strange: for mine Uncle is King of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my Father lived; give twenty, forty, an hundred Ducats a piece, for his picture in Little. There is something in this more than Natural, if Philosophy could find it out.  Flourish for the Players. Guil. 
There are the Players.  Ham. 
Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsonower: your hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garb, left 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.  Guil. 
●●hat my dear Lord?  Ham. 
〈◊〉 but mad North, North-West: when the Wind is Southerly ● know a Hawk from a Handsaw.  Enter Polonius. Pol. 
Well be with you Gentlemen.  Ham. 
Hark you Guildensterne, and you too: at each care a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet out of his swathing clouts.  Rosin. 
Happily he's the second time come to them: for they say, an old man is twice a child.  Ham. 
I will Prophesy. He comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning 'twas so indeed.  Pol. 
My Lord, I have News to tell you.  Ham. 
My Lord, I have News to tell you.  
When Rossius an Actor in Rome—  Pol. 
The Actors are come hither my Lord.  Ham. 
Buzz, buzz.  Pol. 
Upon mine Honor.  Ham. 
Then can each Actor on his Ass—  Polon. 
The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedy, Comedy, History, Pastoral: Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Scene indivible, 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.  Ham. 
O jephta judge of Israel, what a Treasure hadst thou?  Pol. 
What a Treasure had he, my Lord?  Ham. 
Why one fair Daughter, and no more▪  
The which he loved passing well.  Pol. 
Still on my Daughter.  Ham. 
Am I not i' th' right old jephta?  Polon. 
If you call me jephta my Lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.  Ham. 
Nay that follows not.  Polon. 
What follows then, my Lord?  Ha. 
Why, As by lot, God wots: and then you know, It came to pass, as most like it was: The first row of the Pons Chans●n will show you more. For look where my Abridgements come.  Enter four or five Players. 
YE are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: Welcome good Friends. O my old Friend? Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young Lady and Mistress? Byrlady your Ladyship is nearer Heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a Chopine. Pray God your voice like a piece of uncurrant 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 strait. Come give us a taste of your quality: come, a passionate speech.  1 Play. 
What speech, my Lord?  Ham. 
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 Caviarie to the General: but it was (as I received it, and others, whose judgement 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 was no Salads in the lines, to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the Author of affectation, but called it an honest method. One chief 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 th' Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it gins 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 smeared  
With Heraldry more dismal: Head to foot  
Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Tricked  
With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sons,  
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,  
That lend a tyrannous, and damned light  
To their vild Murders, roasted in wrath and fire,  
And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore,  
With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus  
Old Grandsire Priam seeks.   Pol. 
Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent▪ and good discretion.  1. Player. 
Anon he finds him,  
Striking too short at Greeks. His antic Sword,  
Rebellious to his Arm, lies where it falls  
Repugnant to command: unequal match,  
Pyrrhus it Priam drives, in Rage strikes wide:  
But with the whiff and wind of his fell Sword,  
Th' unnerued Father falls. Then senseless Ilium,  
Seeming to feel his 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, seemed i' th' Air to stieke:  
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,  
A roused Vengeance sets him new a-work,  
And never did the Cyclops hammers fall  
On Mars his Armours, 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 Fallies from her wheel,  
And bowl the round Nave down the hill of Heaven,  
As low as to the Fiends.  Pol. 
This is too long.  Ham 
It shall to ' th' Barbers, with your beard. Prithee say on: He's for a jig, or a tale of Baudry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to Hecuba.  1. Play. 
But who, O who, had seen the ennobled Queen.  Ham. 
The ennobled Queen?  Pol. 
That's good: Ennobled Queen is good.  1. Play. 
Run barefoot up and down,  
Threatening the flame  
With Bisson Rheum: A clout about that head,  
Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe  
About her lank and all ore-teamed Lomes',  
A blanket in th' Alarm of fear caught up.  
Who this had seen, with tongue in Venom steeped,  
'Gainst Fortunes 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 milche the Burning eyes of Heaven,  
And passion in the Gods.  Pol. 
Look where he has not turned his colour, and has tears in's eyes. Pray you no more.  Ham. 
‛ I is well, I'll have thee speak out the rest, soon. Good my Lord, will you see the Players well bestowed. Do ye hear, let them be well used: for they are the Abstracts and brief Chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad Epitaph, than their ill report while you lived.  Pol. 
My Lord, I will use them according to their desert.  Ham. 
God's bodkin man, 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.  Pol. 
Come sirs.  Exit Polon. Ham. 
Fellow him Friends: we'll hear a play to morrow. Dost thou hear me old Friend, can you play the murder of Gonzago?  Play. 
I my Lord.  Ham. 
we'll have'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? Can ye not?  Play. 
I my Lord.  Ham. 
Very well. Fellow that Lord, and look you mock him not. My good Friends, I'll leave you till night you are welcome to Elsonower?  Rosin. 
Good my Lord.  Exeunt. Manet Hamlet. Ham. 
I so, God bye: Now I am alone.  
Oh what a Rogue and Peasant slave am I?  
Is it not monstrous that this Player here,  
But in a Fixion, in a dream of Passion,  
Can force his soul so to his whole conceit,  
That from her working, all his visage warmed;  
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 apale the free,  
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,  
The very faculty of Eyes and Ears Yet I,  
A dull and muddy-metled Rascal, peak  
Like john a-dreames, unpregnant of my cause,  
And can say nothing: No, not for a King,  
Upon whose property, and most dear life,  
A damned 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 ' th' Nose? gives me the Lie i' th' Throat,  
As deep as to the Lungs? Who does me this?  
Ha'? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,  
But I am Pigeon-liuered, and lack Gall  
To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,  
I should have fatted all the Region Kites  
With this Slaves Offal, bloody: a Bawdy villain,  
Remorseless, Treacherous, Lecherous, kindles villain!  
Oh Vengeance!  
Who? What an Ass am I? I sure, this is most brave,  
That I, the Son of the Dear murdered,  
Prompted to my Revenge by Heaven, and Hell,  
Must (like a Whore) unpacke 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 Scoene,  
Bene strooke so to the soul, that presently  
They have proclaimed 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  
T' 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 Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildenstern, and Lords. King. 
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.  Rosin. 
He does confess he feels himself distracted,  
But from what cause he will by no means speak.  Guil. 
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.  Qu. 
Did he receive you well?  Rosin. 
Most like a Gentleman.  Guild. 
But with much forcing of his disposition.  Rosin. 
Niggard of question, but of our demands  
Most free in his reply.  Qu. 
Did you assay him to any pastime?  Rosin. 
Madam, it so fell out, that certain Players  
We o'erwrought 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.  Pol. 
'Tis most true:  
And he beseeched me to entreat your Majesties  
To hear, and see the matter.  King. 
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.  Rosin. 
We shall my Lord.  Exeunt. King. 
Sweet Gertrude leave us too,  
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,  
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there  
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 th' affliction of his love, or no.  
That thus he suffers for.  Qu. 
I shall obey you,  
And for your part Ophelia, I do wish  
That your good Beauties be the happy cause  
Of Hamlets wildness: so shall I hope your Virtues  
Will bring him to his wont way again,  
To both your Honours.  Ophe. 
Madam, I wish it may.  Pol. 
Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious so please ye  
We will bestow ourselves: Read on this book,  
That show of such an exercise may colour  
Your loneliness. We are oft too blame in this,  
'Tis too much proved, that with Devotions visage,  
And pious Action, we do surge o'er  
The devil himself.  King. 
Oh 'tis true:  
How smart a lash that speech doth give my Conscience?  
The Harlot's Cheek beautied with plaist'ring Art  
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,  
Then is my deed, to my most painted word.  
Oh heavy burden!  Pol. 
I hear him coming, let's withdraw my Lord.  Exeunt. Enter Hamlet. Ham. 
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 dye, to sleep  
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end  
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Natural shocks  
That Flesh is heir too? 'Tis a consummation  
Devoutly to be wished. To dye to sleep,  
To sleep, perchance to Dream; I, there's the rub,  
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,  
When we have shuffleled 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 poor man's Contumely,  
The pangs of disprized Love, the Law's delay,  
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns  
That patiented merit of the unworthy takes,  
When he himself might his Quietus make  
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Farthels bear  
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,  
But that the dread of something after death,  
The undiscovered Country, from whose Born  
No Traveller returns, Puzels the will,  
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,  
Then 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 erterprises of great pith and moment,  
With this regard their Currants turn away,  
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,  
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons  
Be all my sins remembered.  Ophe. 
Good my Lord,  
How does your Honour for this many a day?  Ham. 
I humbly thank you: well, well, well.  Ophe. 
My Lord, I have Remembrances of yours,  
That I have longed long to redeliver.  
I pray you now, receive them.  Ham. 
No, no, I never gave you aught.  Ophe. 
My honoured Lord, I know right well you did,  
And with them words of so sweet breath composed,  
As made the things more rich, then perfume left:  
Take these again, for to the Noble mind  
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.  
There my Lord.  Ham. 
Ha', ha': Are you honest?  Ophe. 
My Lord.  Ham. 
Are you fair?  Ophe. 
What means your Lordship?  Ham. 
That if you be honest and fair, your Honesty should admit no discourse to your Beauty.  Ophe. 
Can Beauty my Lord, have better Commerce than your Honesty?  Ham. 
I 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.  Ophe. 
Indeed my Lord, you made me believe so.  Ham. 
You should not have believed me. For virtue cannot so innocculate our old stock, but we shall-rellish of it. I loved you not.  Ophe. 
I was the more deceived.  Ham. 
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 Heaven and Earth. We are arrant Knaves all, believe none of us. Go thy ways to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?  Ophe. 
At home, my Lord.  Ham. 
Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the Fool no way, but in's own house. Farewell.  Ophe. 
O help him, you sweet Heavens.  Ham. 
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.  Ophe. 
O heavenly Powers, restore him.  Ham. 
I have heard of your prattlings too well enough. God has given you one pace, and you make yourself another: you gidge, you amble, and you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your Wantonness, your Ignorance. Go too, 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 Hamlet. Ophe. 
O what a Noble mind is here o'erthrown?  
The Courtiers, Soldiers, Scholars: Eye, tongue, sword,  
Th' expectansie and Rose of the fair State,  
The glass of Fashion, and the mould of Form,  
Th' observed of all Observers, quite, quite down.  
Have I of Ladies most deject and wretched,  
That sucked the Honey of his Music Vows:  
Now see that Noble, and most Sovereign Reason,  
Like sweet Bells ●angled out of tune, and harsh,  
That unmatched Form and Feature of blown youth,  
Blasted with ecstasy. Oh woe is me,  
T' have seen what I have seen: see what I see.  Enter King, and Polonius. King. 
Love? His affections do not that way tend,  
Nor what he spoke, though it lacked 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 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?  Pol. 
It shall do well. But yet do I believe  
The Origin and Commencement of this 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 Griefs: 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. 
It shall be so:  
Madness in great Ones, must not vnwatched go.  Exeunt. Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players. Ham. 
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 live the Town-Cryer had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Air too much 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 see a robustious Pery-wig-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 dumb shows, & noise: I could have such a Fellow whipped for o're-doing Termagant: it out- Herod's Herod. Pray you avoid it.  Player. 
I warrant your Honor.  Ham. 
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 observance: That you ore-stop 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're-way a whole Theatre of Others. Oh, 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 gate of Christian, Pagan, or Norman, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's joverney-men had made men, and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abominably.  Play. 
I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, Sir.  Ham. 
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 Villainous, & shows a most pitiful Ambition in the Fool that uses it. Go make you ready.  Exit Players. Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne. 
How now my Lord,  
Will the King hear this piece of Work?  Pol. 
And the Queen too, and that presently.  Ham. 
Bid the Players make haste.  Exit Polonius. 
Will you two help to hasten them?  Both. 
We will my Lord.  Exeunt. Enter Horatio. Ham. 
What hoa, Horatio?  Hora. 
here sweet Lord, at your Service.  Ham. 
Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man  
As ere my Conversation coped withal.  Hora. 
O my dear Lord.  Ham. 
Nay, do not think I flatter:  
For what advancement may I hope from thee,  
That no Revennew haste, but thy good spirits  
To feed & clothe thee. Why should the poor be flattered?  
No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pomp,  
And crook the pregnant Hinges of the knee,  
Where thrift may follow feigning? Dost thou hear,  
Since my dear Soul was Mistress of my choice,  
And could of men distinguish, her election  
Hath sealed thee for herself. For thou hast been  
As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.  
A man that Fortune's buffets, and Rewards  
Hath ' ta'en with equal Thanks. And blessed are those,  
Whose Blood and judgement are so well co-mingled,  
That they are not a Pipe for Fortune's finger,  
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man,  
That is not Passions Slave, and I will wear him  
In my heart's Core: I, in my Heart of heart,  
As I do thee. Something too much of this.  
There is a Play to night before the King,  
One Scoene 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 my 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 Stythe. Give him needful note,  
For I mine eyes will rivet to his Face:  
And after we will both our judgements join,  
To censure of his seeming.  Hora. 
Well my Lord.  
If he steal aught the whilst this Play is Playing,  
And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft.  Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildensterne, and other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torch's. Danish March. Sound a Flourish. Ham. 
They are coming to the Play: I must be idle.  
Get you a place.  King. 
How fares our Cousin Hamlet?  Ham. 
Excellent I'faith, of the Chameleons dish: I eat the Air promise-crammed, you cannot feed Capons so.  King. 
I have nothing with this answer Hamlet, these words are not mine.  Ham. 
No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you played once i' th' University, you say?  Polon. 
That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good Actor.  Ham. 
And what did you enact?  Pol. 
I did enact julius Caesar, I was killed i' th' Capitol:  
Brutus killed me.  Ham. 
It was a bruit part of him, to kill so Capital a Calf there. Be the Players ready?  Rosin. 
I my Lord, they stay upon your patience.  Qu. 
Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me.  Ha. 
No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractive.  Pol. 
Oh ho, do you mark that?  Ham. 
Lady, shall I lie in your Lap?  Ophe. 
No my Lord.  Ham. 
I mean, My Head upon your Lap?  Ophe. 
I my Lord.  Ham. 
Do you think I meant Country matters?  Ophe. 
I think nothing, my Lord.  Ham. 
That's a fair thought to lie between Maid's legs  Ophe. 
What is my Lord?  Ham. 
Nothing.  Ophe. 
You are merry, my Lord?  Ham. 
Who I?  Ophe. 
I my Lord.  Ham. 
Oh God, your only jigge-maker: what should a man do, but be merry. For look you now cheerfully my Mother looks, and my Father died within's two Hours.  Ophe. 
Nay, 'tis twice two months, my Lord.  Ham. 
So long? Nay then let the Devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of Sables. Oh 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 byrlady he must build Churches then: or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.  Oboes play. The dumb show enters. Enter a King and Queen, very lovingly; the Queen embracing him. 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 powers poison in the King's ears, and Exits. 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 Woos the Queen with Gifts, she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end, accepts his love. Exeunt. Ophe. 
What means this, my Lord?  Ham. 
Marry this is Miching Malicho, that means Mischief.  Ophe. 
Belike this show imports the Argument of the Play?  Ham. 
We shall know by these Fellows: the Players cannot keep counsel, they'll tell all.  Ophe. 
Will they tell us what this show meant?  Ham. 
I, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.  Ophe. 
You are naught, you are naught, I'll mark the Play.  Enter Prologue. 

For us, and for our Tragedy,  
here stooping to your Clemency:  
We beg your hearing Patiently.   Ham. 
Is this a Prologue, or the Poesy of a Ring?  Ophe. 
'Tis brief my Lord.  Ham. 
As Woman's love.  Enter King and his Queen. King. 
Full thirty times hath Phoebus' Cart gone round,  
Neptune's salt Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground:  
And thirty dozen Moons with borrowed sheen,  
About the World have times twelve thirty been,  
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands  
Unite comutuall, in most sacred Bands.  Bap. 
So many journeys may the Sun and Moon  
Make us again count o'er, ere love be duone.  
But woe is me, you are so sick of late,  
So fare from cheer, and from your form 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.  King. 
Faith I must leave thee Love, and shortly too:  
My operant Powers my Functions leave to do:  
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,  
Honoured, beloved, and haply, one as kind.  
For Husband shalt thou—  Bap. 
Oh confound the rest:  
Such Love, must needs be Treason in my breast:  
In second Husband, let me be accursed,  
None wed the second, but who killed the first.  Ham. 
Wormwood, Wormwood.  Bapt. 
The instances that second Marriage move,  
Are base respects of Thirst, but none of Love..  
A second time, I kill my Husband dead,  
When second Husband kisses me in Bed.  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 other Grief or joy,  
Their own ennactors with themselves destroy:  
Where joy most Revels, Grief doth most lament;  
Grief joys, joy grieves on slender accident.  
This world is not for ay, nor 'tis not strange  
That even our Loves should with our Fortune's 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 favourites 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.  Bap. 
Nor Earth to give me food, nor Heaven light,  
Sport and repose lock from me day and night:  
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.  Ham. 
If she should break it now.  King. 
'Tis deeply sworn:  
Sweet, leave me here a while,  
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile  
The tedious day with sleep.  Qu. 
Sleep rock thy Brain,  Sleeps 
And never come mischance between us twain.  Exit Ham. 
Madam, how like you this Play?  Qu. 
The Lady protests to much me thinks.  Ham. 
Oh but she'll keep her word.  King. 
Have you heard the Argument, is there no Offence in't?  Ham. 
No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest, no Offence i' th' world.  King. 
What do you call the Play?  Ham. 
The Mousetrap: 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 gail d●iade winch: our withers are unrung.  Enter Lucianus. 
This is one Lucianus nephew to the King.  Ophe. 
You are a good Chorus, my Lord.  Ham. 
I could interpret between you and your love: if I could see the Puppets dallying.  Ophe. 
You are keen my Lord, you are keen.  Ham. 
It would cost you a groaning, to take off my edge.  Ophe. 
Still better and worse.  Ham. 
So you mistake Husbands.  
Begin Murderer. Pox, leave thy damnable Faces, and begin.  
Come, the croaking Raven doth bellow for Revenge.  Lucian. 
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.  Powers the poison in his ears. Ham. 
He poisons him i' th' 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.  Ophe. 
The King rises.  Ham. 
What, frighted with false fire.  Qu. 
How fares my Lord?  Pol. 
Give o'er the Play.  King. 
Give me some Light. Away.  All. 
Lights, Lights, Lights.  Exeunt Manet Hamlet & Horatio. Ham. 
Why let the strucken 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 Fortune's turn Turk with me; with two Provincial Roses on my razed Shoes, get me a Fellowship in a cry of Player's sir.  Hor. 
Half a share.  Ham. 
A whole one I,  
For thou dost know: Oh Damon dear,  
This Realm dismantled was of jove himself,  
And now reigns here.  
A very very Paiocke.  Hora. 
You might have Rhymed.  Ham. 
Oh good Horatio, I'll take the Ghosts word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive?  Hora. 
Very well my Lord.  Ham. 
Upon the talk of the poisoning?  Hora. 
I did very well note him.  Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne. Ham. 
Oh, ha'? Come some Music. Come the Recorders:  
For if the King like not the Comedy,  
Why then belike he likes it not perdie.  
Come some Music.  Guild. 
Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.  Ham. 
Sir, a whole History.  Guild. 
The King, sir.  Ham. 
I sir, what of him?  Guild. 
Is in his retirement, marvelous distempered.  Ham. 
With drink Sir?  Guild. 
No my Lord, rather with choler.  Ham. 
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 fare more Choler.  Guild. 
Good my Lord put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.  Ham. 
I am tame Sir, pronounce.  Guild. 
The Queen your Mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.  Ham. 
You are welcome.  Guild. 
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.  Ham. 
Sir, I cannot.  Guild. 
What, my Lord?  Ham. 
Make you a wholesome answer: my wits diseased. But sir, such answers as I can make, you shall command: or rather you say, my Mother: therefore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say.  Rosin. 
Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into amazement, and admiration.  Ham. 
Oh wonderful Son, that can so astonish a Mother. But is there no sequel at the heels of this Mother's admiration?  Rosin. 
She desires to speak with you in her Closet, ere you go to bed.  Ham. 
We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother.  
Have you any further Trade with us?  Rosin. 
My Lord, you once did love me.  Ham. 
So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.  Rosin. 
Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do freely bar the door of your own Liberty, if you deny your griefs to your Friend.  Ham. 
Sir I lack Advancement.  Rosin. 
How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself, for your Succession in Denmark?  Ham. 
I, but while the grass grows, the Proverb is something musty.  Enter one with a Recorder. 
O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?  Guild. 
O my Lord, if my Duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.  Ham. 
I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this Pipe?  Guild. 
My Lord, I cannot.  Ham. 
I pray you.  Guild. 
Believe me, I cannot.  Ham. 
I do beseech you.  Guild. 
I know no touch of it, my Lord.  Ham. 
'Tis as easy as lying: govern these Ventiges with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Music. Look you, these are the stops.  Guild. 
But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony, I have not the skill.  Ham. 
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. Why do you think, that I am easier to be played on, than a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. God bless you Sir.  Enter Polonius. Polon. 
My Lord; the Queen would speak with you, and presently.  Ham. 
Do you see that Cloud? that's almost in shape like a Camel.  Polon. 
By ' th' Miss, and it's like a Camel indeed.  Ham. 
Me thinks it is like a Weasel.  Polon. 
It is backed like a Weasel.  Ham. 
Or like a Whale?  Polon. 
Very like a Whale.  Ham. 
Then will I come to my Mother, by and by:  
They fool me to the top of my bent.  
I will come by and by.  Polon. 
I will say so.  Exit. Ham. 
By and by, is easily said. Leave me Friends:  
'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:  
Oh 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 somever she be shent,  
To give them Seals, never my Soul consent.  Enter King, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne. King. 
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.  Guild. 
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.  Rosin. 
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 spirit depends and rests  
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  
Fixed on the Somnet of the highest Mount,  
To whose huge Spokes, ten thousand lesser things  
Are mortized and adjoined: 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. 
Arm you, I pray you to this speedy Voyage;  
For we will Fetters put upon this fear,  
Which now goes too freefooted.  Both. 
We will haste us.  Exeunt Gent. Enter Polonius. Pol. 
My Lord, he's going to his Mother's Closet:  
Behind the Arras I'll convey myself  
To hear the Process. I'll 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're-heare  
The speech of vantage. Ear you well my Liege,  
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,  
And tell you what I know.  King. 
Thanks dear my Lord.  
Oh my offence is rank, it smells to heaven,  
It hath the primall 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 twofold force,  
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,  
Or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up,  
My fault is past. But oh, what form of Prayer  
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul Murder:  
That cannot be, since I am still possessed  
Of those effects for which I did the Murder.  
My Crown, mine own Ambition, and my Queen:  
May one be pardoned, and retain th' offence?  
In the corrupted currants of this world,  
Offences 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 compelled  
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 cannot repent?  
Oh wretched state! Oh bosom, black as death!  
Oh 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.  Enter Hamlet. Ham. 
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 scanned,  
A Villain kills my Father, and for that  
I his foul Son, do this same Villain send  
To heaven. Oh this is hire and Salary, not Revenge.  
He took my Father grossly, full of bread,  
With all his Crimes broad blown, as fresh 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 seasoned for his passage? No.  
Up Sword, and know thou a more horrid hent  
When he is drunk asleep: or in his Rage,  
Or in th' 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 damned and black  
As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stays,  
This Physic but prolongs thy sickly days.  Exit. King. 
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below,  
Words without thoughts, never to Heaven go.  Exit. Enter Queen and Polonius. Pol. 
He will come strait:  
Look you lay home to him,  
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,  
And that your Grace hath scree'nd, and stood between  
Much heat, and him. I'll silence me e'en here:  
Pray you be round with him.  Ham. within. 
Mother, mother, mother.  Qu. 
I'll warrant you, fear me not.  
Withdraw, I hear him coming.  Enter Hamlet. Ham. 
Now Mother, what's the matter?  Qu. 
Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended.  Ham. 
Mother, you have my Father much offended.  Qu. 
Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.  Ham. 
Go, go, you question with an idle tongue.  Qu. 
Why how now Hamlet?  Ham. 
What's the matter now?  Qu. 
Have you forgot me?  Ham. 
No by the Rood, not so:  
You are the Queen, your Husband's Brothers wife,  
But would you were not so. You are my Mother.  Qu. 
Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak.  Ham. 
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?  Qu. 
What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?  
Help, help, hoa.  Pol. 
What hoa, help, help, help.  Ham. 
How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducat, dead.  Pol. 
Oh I am slain.  Kills Polonius. Qu. 
Oh me, what hast thou done?  Ham. 
Nay I know not, is it the King?  Qu. 
Oh what a rash, and bloody deed is this?  Ham. 
A bloody deed, almost as bad good Mother,  
As kill a King, and marry with his Brother.  Qu. 
As kill a King?  Ham. 
I Lady, 'twas my word.  
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool farewell,  
I took thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,  
Thou findest to be too busy, is some danger.  
Lean wring 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 no brazed it so,  
That it is proof and bulwark against Sense.  Qu. 
What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue,  
In noise so rude against me?  Ham. 
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 makes a blister there. Makes marriage vows  
As false as Dicers Oaths. Oh such a deed,  
As from the body of Contraction plucks  
The very soul, and sweet Religion makes  
A rapsidie of words. Heaven's face doth glow,  
Yea this solidity and compound mass,  
With tristfull visage as against the doom,  
Is thought-sicke at the act.  Qu. 
Ay me; what act, that roars so loud, & thunders in the Index.  Ham. 
Look here upon this Picture, and on this,  
The counterfeit presentment of two Brothers:  
See what a grace was seated on his Brow,  
Hyperions curls, the front of jove himself,  
An eye like Mars, to threaten or 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 Mildewed ear  
Blasting his wholesome breath. Have you eyes?  
Can 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 heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,  
And waits upon the judgement: and what judgement  
Would step from this, to this? What devil was't,  
That thus hath cozened you at hoodman-blinde?  
O Shame! where is thy Blush? Rebellious Hell,  
If thou canst mutiny 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 Ardure gives the charge,  
Since Frost itself, as actively doth burn,  
As Reason panders Will.  Qu. 
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.  Ham. 
Nay, but to live  
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,  
Stewed in Corruption; honying and making love  
Over the nasty Sty.  Qu. 
Oh speak to me, no more,  
These words like Daggers enter in mine ears.  
No more sweet Hamlet.  Ham. 
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.  Qu. 
No more.  Enter Ghost. Ham. 
A King of shreds and patches.  
Save me; and hover o'er me with your wings  
You heavenly Guards. What would you gracious figure?  Qu. 
Alas he's mad.  Ham. 
Do you not come your tardy Son to chide,  
That lapsed in Time and Passion, let's go by  
Th' important acting of your dread command? Oh say.  Ghost. 
Do not forget: this Visitation  
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.  
But look Amazement on thy Mother fits;  
O step between her, and her fight Soul,  
Conceit in weakest bodies, strongest works.  
Speak to her Hamlet.  Ham. 
How is it with you Lady?  Qu. 
Alas, how is't with you?  
That you bend your eye on vacancy,  
And with their corporal air do hold discourse.  
Forth at your eyes, your spirits wildly peep,  
And as the sleeping Soldiers in th' Alarm,  
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,  
Start up, and stand an end. Oh gentle Son,  
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper  
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?  Ham. 
On him, on him: look you how pale he glares,  
His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones,  
Would make them capable. Do not look upon me,  
Lest with this piteous action you convert  
My stern effects: than what I have to do,  
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.  Qu. 
To who do you speak this?  Ham. 
Do you see nothing there?  Qu. 
Nothing at all, yet all that is I see.  Ham. 
Nor did you nothing hear?  Qu. 
No, nothing but ourselves.  Ham. 
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 Portall.  Exit. Qu. 
This is the very coinage of your Brain,  
This bodiless Creation ecstasy is very cunning i●.  Ham. 
Ecstasy?  
My Pulse as yours doth temperately keep time,  
And makes as healthful Music. It is not madness  
That I have uttered; bring me to the Test  
And I the matter will reword: which madness  
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of Grace,  
Lay not a flattering 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 or the Weeds,  
To make them rank. Forgive me this my Virtue,  
For in the fatness of this pursy times,  
Virtue itself, of Vice must pardon beg,  
Yea curb, and woe, for leave to do him good.  Qu. 
Oh Hamlet,  
Thou hast cleft my heart in twain.  Ham. 
O throw away the worse 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, refrain to night,  
And that shall lend a kind of easiness  
To the next abstinence. Once more good-night,  
And when you are desirous to be blessed,  
I'll blessing beg of you. For this same Lord,  
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 gins, and worse remains behind.  Qu. 
What shall I do?  Ham. 
Not this by no means that I bid you do:  
Let the blunt King tempt you again to bed,  
Pinch Wanton on your cheek, call you his Mouse,  
And let him for a pair of reechie kisses,  
Or paddling in your neck with his damned Fingers,  
Make you to ravel all this matter out,  
That I essentially am not in madness,  
But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know,  
For who that's but a Queen, fair, sober, wise,  
Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe,  
Such dear concern hide, Who would do so,  
No in despite of Sense and Secrecy,  
Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top:  
Let the Birds fly, and like the famous Ape  
To try Conclusions in the Basket, creep  
And break your own neck down.  Qu. 
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.  Ham. 
I must to England, you know that?  Qu. 
Alack I had forgot: 'Tis so concluded on.  Ham. 
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.  Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius. Enter King. King. 
There's matters in these sighs.  
These profound heaves  
You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them.  
Where is your Son?  Qu. 
Ah my good Lord, what have I seen to night?  King. 
What Gertrude? How does Hamlet?  Qu. 
Mad as the Seas, and wind, when both contend  
Which is the Mightier, in his lawless fit  
Behind the Arras, hearing something stir,  
He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat,  
And in his brainish apprehension kills  
The unseen good old man.  King. 
Oh 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 answered?  
It will be laid to us, whose providence  
Should have kept short, restrained, 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's it feed  
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?  Qu. 
To draw apart the body he hath killed,  
O'er whom his very madness like some Oar  
Among a Mineral of Mettles base  
Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done.  King. 
Oh Gertrude, come away:  
The Sun no sooner shall the Mountain's touch,  
But we will ship him hence, and this vild deed,  
We must with all our Majesty and Skill  
Both countenance, and excuse.  Enter Ros. & Guild. 
Ho Guildenstern:  
Friends both go join you with some further aid:  
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,  
And from his Mother Closets hath he dragged him.  
Go seek him out, speak fair, and bring the body  
Into the Chapel. I pray you haste in this.  Exit Gent. 
Come Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends,  
To let them know both what we mean to do,  
And what's untimely done. Oh come away,  
My soul is full of discord and dismay.  Exeunt. Enter Hamlet. Ham. 
Safely stowed.  Gentlemen within. 
Hamlet, Lord Hamlet.  Ham. 
What noise? Who calls on Hamlet?  
Oh here they come.  Enter Ros. and Guildensterne. Ro. 
What have you done my Lord with the dead body?  Ham. 
Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis Kin.  Rosin. 
Tell us where 'tis▪ that we may take it thence,  
And bear it to the Chapel.  Ham. 
Do not believe it.  Rosin. 
Believe what?  Ham. 
That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what replication should be made by the Son of a King.  Rosin. 
Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord?  Ham. 
I 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 Spundge you shall be dry again.  Rosin. 
I understand you not my Lord.  Ham. 
I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.  Rosin. 
My Lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the King.  Ham. 
The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. The King, is a thing—  Guild. 
A thing my Lord?  Ham. 
Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and all after.  Exeunt Enter King. King. 
I have sent to seek him, and to find the body:  
How dangerous is it that this man goes lose:  
Yet must not we put the strong Law on him:  
he's loved of the distracted multitude,  
Who like not in their judgement, but their eyes:  
And where 'tis so, th' Offenders scourge is weighed  
But nearer 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 Rosincrane. 
How now? What hath befallen?  Rosin. 
Where the dead body is bestowed my Lord,  
We cannot get from him.  King. 
But where is he?  Rosin. 
Without my Lord, guarded to know your pleasure.  King. 
Bring him before us.  Rosin. 
Hoa, Guildensterne? Bring in my Lord.  Enter Hamlet and Guildensterne. King. 
Now Hamlet, where's Polonius?  Ham. 
At Supper.  King. 
At Supper? Where?  Ham. 
Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a certain convocation of 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 ourself for Maggots. Your fat King, and your lean Beggar is but variable service to dishes, but to one Table that's the end.  King. 
What dost thou mean by this?  Ham. 
Nothing but to show you how a King may go a Progress through the guts of a Beggar.  King. 
Where is Polonius.  Ham. 
In heaven, send thither to see. If your Messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself: but indeed, if you find him not this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the Lobby.  King. 
Go seek him there.  Ham. 
He will stay till ye come.  K. 
Hamlet, this deed of thine, 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,  
Th' Associates tend, and every thing at bent  
For England.  Ham. 
For England?  King. 
I Hamlet.  Ham. 
Good.  King. 
So is it, if thou knewest our purposes.  Ham. 
I see a Cherube that see's him: but come, for England. Farewell dear Mother.  King. 
Thy loving Father Hamlet.  Hamlet. 
My Mother: Father and Mother is man and wife: man & wife is one flesh, and so my mother. Come, for England.  Exit King. 
Fellow him at foot,  
Tempt him with speed aboard:  
Delay it not, I'll have him hence to night.  
Away, for every thing is Sealed and done  
That else leans on th' Affair, pray you make haft.  
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 conjuring 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,  
How ere my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.  Exit Enter Fortinbras with an Army. For. 
Go Captain, from me greet the Danish King,  
Tell him that by his licence, Fortinbras  
Claims 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.  Cap. 
I will do't, my Lord.  For. 
Go safely on.  Exit. Enter Queen and Horatio. Qu. 
I will not speak with her.  Hor. 
She is importunate, indeed distract, her mood will needs be pitied.  Qu. 
What would she have?  Hor. 
She speaks much of her Father; says she hears  
There's tricks i' th' 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 would be thought,  
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.  Qu. 
'Twere good she were spoken with,  
For she may strew dangerous conjectures  
In ill breeding minds. Let her come in.  
To my sick soul (as sins true Nature is)  
Each toy seems Prologue, to some great amiss,  
So full of Artless jealousy is guilt,  
It spill's itself, in fearing to be spilt.  Enter Ophelia distracted. Ophe, 
Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark.  Qu. 
How now Ophelia?  Ophe. 
How should I your true love know from another one?  
By his Cockle hat and staff, and his Sandal shoes.  Qu. 
Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song?  Ophe. 
Say you? Nay pray you mark.  
He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,  
At his head a grass-green Turf, at his heels a stone.  Enter King. Qu. 
Nay but Ophelia.  Ophe. 
Pray you mark.  
White his Shroud as the Mountain Snow.  Qu. 
Alas, look here my Lord.  Ophe. 
Larded with sweet flowers:  
Which bewept to the grave did not go,  
With true-love showers.  King. 
How do ye, pretty Lady?  Ophe. 
Well, God diled 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. 
Conceit upon her Father.  Ophe. 
Pray you let's have no words of this: but when they ask you what it means, say you this:  
Tomorrow is S. Valentine's day, all in the morning betime,  
And I a Maid at your Window to be your Valentine.  
Then up he rose, & donned his clothes, & dupt the chamber door,  
Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, never departed more.  King. 
Pretty Ophelia.  Ophe. 
Indeed lafoy? without an oath I'll make an end out.  
By gis, and by S. Charity,  
Alack, and sie for shame:  
Young men will do't, if they come too't,  
By Cock they are too blame.  
Quoth she before you tumbled me,  
You promised me to Wed:  
So would I ha' done by yonder Sun,  
And thou hadst not come to my bed.  King. 
How long hath she been this?  Ophe. 
I hope all will be well. We must be patiented, but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' th' 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. 
Fellow her close,  
Give her good watch I pray you:  
Oh this is the poison of deep grief, it springs  
All from her Father's death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude,  
When sorrows comes, they come not single spies,  
But in Battaliaes. 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 judgement,  
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,  
Keeps on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,  
And wants not Buzzers to infect his ear  
With pestilent Speeches of his Father's death,  
Where in necessity of matter Beggared,  
Will nothing stick our persons 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. Enter a Messenger. Qu. 
Alack, what noise is this?  King. 
Where are my Swissers?  
Let them guard the door. What is the matter?  Mes. 
Save yourself, my Lord.  
The Ocean (over-peering of his List)  
Eats not the Flats with more impittious haste  
Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head,  
Ore-beares 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.  Qu. 
How cheerfully on the false Trail they cry,  
Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogs.  Noise within. Enter Laertes. King. 
The doors are broke.  Laer. 
Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without.  All. 
No, let's come in.  Laer. 
I pray you give me leave.  Al. 
We will, we will.  Laer. 
I thank you: Keep the door.  
Oh thou vild King, give me my Father.  Qu. 
Calmly good Laertes.  Laer. 
That drop of blood, that calms  
Proclaims me Bastard:  
Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot  
Even here between the chaste unsmirched brow  
Of my true Mother.  King. 
What is the cause Laertes,  
That thy Rebellion looks so Giantlike?  
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.  Laer. 
Where's my Father?  King. 
Dead.  Qu. 
But not by him.  King. 
Let him demand his fill.  Laer. 
How came he dead? I'll not be Iuggeled 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 throughly for my Father.  King. 
Who shall stay you?  Laer. 
My Will, not all the world,  
And for my means, I'll husband them so well,  
They shall go fare with little.  King. 
Good Laertes:  
If you desire to know the certainty  
Of your dear Father's death, if writ in your revenge,  
That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe,  
Winner and Loser.  Laer. 
None but his Enemies.  King. 
Will you know them then.  La. 
To his good Friends, thus wide I'll open my Arms:  
And like the kind Life-rend'ring Politician,  
Repast them with my blood.  King. 
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 judgement pierce  
As day does to your eye.  A noise within. Let her come in. Enter Ophelia. Laer. 
How now? what noise is that?  
Oh 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 turns the beam. Oh Rose of May,  
Dear Maid, kind Sister, sweet Ophelia:  
Oh Heavens, is't possible, a young Maid's wits,  
Should be as mortal 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 love's.  Ophe. 
They bore him bore faced on the Beer,  
hay non nonny, nonny, hay nonny:  
And on his grave rain many a tear,  
Far you well my Dove.  Laer. 
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade Revenge, it could not move thus.  Ophe. 
You must sing down adown, and you call him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheel becomes it? It is the false Steward that stole his master's daughter.  Laer. 
This nothings more than matter.  Ophe. 
There's Rosemary, that's for Remembrance.  
Pray love remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for Thoughts.  Laer. 
A document in madness, thoughts & remembrance fitted.  Ophe. 
There's Fennel for you, and Columbines: there's Rew for you, and here's some for me. We may call it Herbe-Grace a Sundays: Oh you must wear your Rew 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;  For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. Laer. 
Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell itself:  
She turns to Favour, and to prettiness.  Ophe. 
And will he not come again,  
And will he not come again:  
No, no, he is dead, go to thy Deathbed,  
He never will come again.  
His Beard as white as Snow,  
All Flaxen was his Pole:  
He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away moan,  
Gramercy on his Soul.  
And of all Christian Souls, I pray God.  
God buy ye.  Exeunt Ophelia Laer. 
Do you see this, you Gods?  King. 
Laertes, I must common 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 Colaterall hand  
They find us touched, we will our Kingdom give,  
Our Crown, our Life, and all that we call 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.  Laer. 
Let this be so:  
His means of death, his obscure burial;  
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 in question.  King. 
So you shall:  
And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall.  
I pray you go with me.  Exeunt Enter Horatio, with an Attendant. Hora. 
What are they that would speak with me?  Ser. 
Sailor's sir, they say they have Letters for you.  Hor. 
Let them come in,  
I do not know from what part of the world  
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.  Enter Saylor. Say. 
God bless you Sir.  Hor. 
Let him bless thee too.  Say. 
He shall Sir, an't please him. There's a Letter for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadors that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.  Reads the Letter. 
HOratio,  
When thou shalt have ouerlooked 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. 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 Thiefs 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 haste as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in your ear, will make thee-dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bore of the Matter. These good Fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosincrance and Guildensterne, hold their course for England. Of them I have much to tell thee, Farewell.  
He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.  
Come, I will give you way for these your Letters,  
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me  
To him from whom you brought them.  Exit. Enter King and Laertes. King. 
Now must your conscience my acquittance 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.  Laer. 
It well appears. But tell me,  
Why you proceeded not against these feats,  
So crimefull, and so Capital in Nature,  
As by your Safety, Wisdom, all things else,  
You mainly were stirred up?  King. 
O for two special Reasons,  
Which may to you (perhaps) seem much unsinnowed,  
And yet to me they are strong. The Queen his Mother,  
Life's almost by his looks: and for myself,  
My Virtue or my Plague, be it either which,  
She's so coniunctive 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 timbered for so loud a Wind,  
Would have reverted to my Bow again,  
And not where I had armed them.  Laer. 
And so have I a Noble Father lost,  
A Sister driven into desperate terms,  
Who was (if praises may go back again)  
Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age  
For her perfections. But my revenge will come.  King. 
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 shaken 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?  Mes. 
Letters my Lord from Hamlet. This to your Majesty: this to the Queen.  King. 
From Hamlet? Who brought them?  Mes. 
Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not:  
They were given me by Claudio, he received them.  King. 
Laertes you shall hear them:  
Leave us.  Exit Messenger 
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 ask your Pardon thereunto) recount th' Occasions of my sudden, and more strange return.  
Hamlet.  
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?  
Or is it some abuse? Or no such thing?  Laer. 
Know you the hand?  Kin. 
'Tis Hamlets Character, naked and in a Postscript here he says alone: Can you advice me?  Laer. 
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 didst thou.  Kin. 
If it be so Laertes, as how should it be so:  
How otherwise will you be ruled by me?  Laer. 
If so you'll not o'er rule me to a peace.  Kin. 
To thine own peace: if he be now returned,  
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 practice,  
And call it accident: Some two Months hence  
Here was a Gentleman of Normandy,  
I've seen myself, and served against the French,  
And they ran well on Horseback; but this Gallant  
Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his Seat,  
And to such wondrous doing brought his Horse,  
As had he been encorpsed and demy-natured  
With the brave Beast, so fare he passed my thought,  
That I in forgery of shapes and tricks,  
Come short of what he did.  Laer. 
A Norman was't?  Kin. 
A Norman.  Laer. 
Upon my life Lamound.  Kin. 
The very same.  Laer. 
I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed,  
And gem of all our Nation.  Kin. 
He mad confession of you,  
And gave you such a Masterly report,  
For Art and exercise in your defence;  
And for your Rapier most especially ᵉ,  
That he cried out, t' would be a sight indeed,  
If one could match you Sir. This report of his  
Did Hamlet so envenom with his Envy,  
That he could nothing do but wish and beg,  
Your sudden coming over to play with him;  
Now out of this.  Laer. 
Why out of this, my Lord?  Kin 
Laertes was your Father dear to you?  
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,  
A face without a heart?  Laer. 
Why ask you this?  Kin. 
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:  
Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake,  
To show yourself your Father's son indeed,  
More than in words?  Laer. 
To cut his throat i' th' Church.  Kin. 
No place indeed should murder Sancturize;  
Revenge should have no bounds: but good Laertes  
Will you do this, keep close within your Chamber,  
Hamlet returned, 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 unbaited, and in a pass of practice,  
Requited him for your Father.  Laer. 
I will do't,  
And for that purpose I'll anoint my Sword:  
I bought an Unction of a Mountebank  
So mortal, I but dipped 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 scratched withal: I'll touch my point,  
With this contagion, that if I gall him slightly,  
It may be death.  Kin 
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 assayed; 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 come,  
I have't: when in your motion you are hot and dry,  
As make your bowts more violent to the 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 venomed stuck,  
Our purpose may hold there; how sweet Queen.  Enter Queen. Queen. 
One woe doth tread upon another's heel,  
So fast they'll follow: your Sister's drowned Laertes.  Laer. 
Drowned! O where?  Queen. 
There is a Willow grows aslant a Brook,  
That shows his hore leaves in the glassy stream:  
There with fantastic Garlands did she come,  
Of Crow-slowers, 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 pendant boughs, her Coronet weeds  
Clambering to hang; an envious sliver broke,  
When down the weedy Trophies, and herself,  
Fell in the weeping Brook, her clothes spread wide,  
And Mermaidlike, a while 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 endued  
Unto that Element: but long it could not be,  
Till that her garments, heavy with her drink,  
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious buy,  
To muddy death.  Laer. 
Alas then, is she drowned?  Queen, 
Drowned, drowned.  Laer. 
Too much of water hast thou poor Ophelia,  
And therefore I forbidden 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 doubts it.  Exit. Kin. 
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. Enter two Clowns. Clown. 
Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation?  Other. 
I tell thee she is, and therefore make her Grave strait, the Crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.  Clo. 
How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?  Other. 
Why 'tis found so.  Clo. 
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 an Act to do and to perform; argall she drowned herself wittingly.  Other. 
Nay but hear you Goodman Deluer.  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 & drown him; he drowns not himself. Argall, he that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.  Other. 
But is this law?  Clo. 
I marry is't, Crowner's Quest Law.  Other. 
Will you ha' the truth on't: if this had not been a Gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of Christian Burial.  Clo. 
Why there thou sayest. 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 Gentlemen, but gardiner's, Ditchers and Grave-makers; they hold up Adam's Profession.  Other. 
Was he a Gentleman?  Clo. 
He was the first that ever bore Arms.  Other. 
Why he had none.  Clo. 
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—  Other. 
Go too.  Clo. 
What is he that builds stronger than either the Mason, the Shipwright, or the Carpenter?  Other. 
The Gallows maker; for that Frame outlives a thousand Tenants.  Clo. 
I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallows does well; but how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now, thou dost ill to say the Gallows is built stronger than the Church: Argall, the Gallows may do well to thee. Too't again, Come.  Other. 
Who builds stronger than a Mason, a Shipwright, or a Carpenter?  Clo. 
I, tell me that, and unyoake.  Other. 
Marry, now I can tell.  Clo. 
Too't.  Other. 
Mass, I cannot tell.  Enter Hamlet and Horatio a fare off. Clo. 
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, lasts till Doomsday: go, get thee to Yaughan, fetch me a stoup of Liquor.  Sings. 

In youth when I did love, did love,  
me thought it was very sweet:  
To contract O the time for a my behoof,  
O me thought there was nothing meet.   Ham. 
Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at Grave-making?  Hor. 
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.  Ham. 
'Tis e'en so; the hand of little Employment hath the daintier sense.  Clown sings. 

But Age with his stealing steps  
hath caught me in his clutch:  
And hath shipped me until the Land,  
as if I had never been such.   Ham. 
That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to th' ground as if it were Cain's jawbone, that did the first murder: It might be the Pate of a Politician which this Ass o'er Offices: one that could circumvent God, might it not?  Hor. 
It might, my Lord.  Ham. 
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 ones Horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?  Hor. 
I, my Lord.  Ham. 
Why e'en so: and now my Lady Worms, Chaplesse, and knocked about the Mazzard with a Sexton's Spade; here's fine Revolution, if 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.  Clown sings. 

A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade,  
for and a shrowding-Sheete:  
O a Pit of Clay for to be made,  
for such a Guest is meet.   Ham. 
There's another: why might not that be the Scull of of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets? his Cases? his Tenors, and his Tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the Sconce with a dirty Shovell, 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'?  Hor. 
Not a jot more, my Lord.  Ham. 
Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes?  Hor. 
I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too.  Ham. 
They are Sheep and Calves that seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow: whose Graue's this Sir?  Clo. 
Mine Sir:  
O a Pit of Clay for to be made,  
for such a Guest is meet.  Ham. 
I think it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't.  Clo. 
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.  Ham. 
Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou liest.  Clo. 
'Tis a quick lie Sir, 'twill a way again from me to you.  Ham. 
What man dost thou dig it for?  Clo. 
For no man Sir.  Ham. 
What woman then?  Clo. 
For none neither.  Ham. 
Who is to be buried in't?  Clo. 
One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soul, she's dead.  Ham. 
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 note of it, the Age is grown so picked, that the toe of the Peasant comes so near the heels of our Courtier, he galls his Kibe. How long hast thou been a Grave-maker?  Clo. 
Of all the days i' th' year, I came too't that day that our last King Hamlet o'er came Fortinbras.  Ham. 
How long is that since?  Clo. 
Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, he that was mad, and sent into England.  Ham. 
I marry, why was he sent into England?  Clo. 
Why, because he was mad; he shall recover his wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there.  Ham. 
Why?  Clo. 
'Twill not be seen in him, there the men are as mad as he.  Ham. 
How came he mad?  Clo. 
Very strangely they say.  Ham. 
How strangely?  Clo. 
Faith e'en with losing his wits.  Ham. 
Upon what ground?  Clo. 
Why here in Denmark: I have been sixteen here, man and Boy thirty years.  Ham. 
How long will a man lie ' i th' earth ere he rot?  Clo. 
I faith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we have many pocky Courses now adays, that will scarce hold the laying in) he will last you some eight year, or nine year. A Tanner will last you nine year.  Ham. 
Why he, more than another?  Clo. 
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 Scull now: this Skull, has lain in the earth three & twenty years.  Ham. 
Whose was it?  Clo. 
A whoreson mad Fellows it was;  
Whose do you think it was?  Ham. 
Nay, I know not.  Clo. 
A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a poured a Flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same Scull Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks' Scull, the King's jester.  Ham. 
This?  Clo. 
E'en that.  Ham. 
Let me see. 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 how abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. here hung those lips, that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your libes now? Your Gambols? Your Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to set the Table on a Roar? No one now to mock your own jeering? Quite chopfalne? 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.  Hor. 
What's that my Lord?  Ham. 
Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' th' earth?  Hor. 
E'en so.  Ham. 
And smelled so? Puh.  Hor. 
E'en so, my Lord.  Ham. 
To what base uses we may return Horatio. Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole.  Hor. 
'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so.  Ham. 
No faith, not a jot. But to follow him thither with modesty enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus. Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make Lome, and why of that Loam (whereto he was converted) might they not stop a Beere-barrell?  
Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay,  
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.  
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,  
Should patch a Wall, t' expel the winter's flaw.  
But soft, but soft, aside; here comes the King.  Enter King, Queen, Laertes, and a Coffin, with Lords attendant. 
The Queen, the Courtiers. Who is that they follow,  
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken,  
The Coarse they follow, did with desperate hand,  
Fore do it own life; 'twas some Estate.  
Couch we a while, and mark.  Laer. 
What Ceremony else?  Ham. 
That is Laertes, a very Noble youth: Mark.  Laer. 
What Ceremony else?  Priest. 
Her Obsequies have been as fare enlarged.  
As we have warrantis, her death was doubtful,  
And but that great Command, o're-swaies the order,  
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged,  
Till the last Trumpet. For charitable prayer,  
Shards, Flints, and Peebles, should be thrown on her:  
Yet here she is allowed her Virgin Rites,  
Her Maiden strewments, and the bringing home  
Of Bell and Burial.  Laer. 
Must there no more be done?  Priest. 
No more be done:  
We should profane the service of the dead,  
To sing sage Requiem, and such rest to her  
As to peace-parted Souls.  Laer. 
Lay her i' th' 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?  Ham. 
What, the fair Ophelia?  Queen. 
Sweets, to the sweet farewell.  
I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlets wife:  
I thought thy Bridebed to have decked (sweet Maid)  
And not t' have strewed thy Grave.  Laer. 
Oh terrible wooer,  
Fall ten times treble, on that cursed head  
Whose wicked deed▪ thy most Ingenious sense  
Deprived thee of. Hold off the earth a while,  
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:  Leaps in the grave. 
Now pile your dust, upon the quick, and dead,  
Till of this flat a Mountain you have made,  
To o'er top old Pelion, or the skyish head  
Of blue Olympus.  Ham. 
What is he, whose griefs  
Bears such an Emphasis? whose phrase of Sorrow  
Conjure the wand'ring Stars, and makes them stand  
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,  
Hamlet the Dane.  Laer. 
The devil take thy soul.  Ham. 
Thou prayest not well,  
I prithee take thy fingers from my throat;  
Sir though I am not Splenative, and rash,  
Yet have I something in me dangerous,  
Which let thy wiseness fear. Away thy hand.  King. 
Pluck them asunder.  Qu. 
Hamlet, Hamlet.  Gen. 
Good my Lord be quiet.  Ham. 
Why I will fight with him upon this Theme.  
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.  Qu. 
Oh my Son, what Theme?  Ham. 
I loved Ophelia; forty thousand Brothers  
Can not (with all there quantity of Love)  
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?  King. 
Oh he is mad Laertes,  Qu. 
For love of God forbear him.  Ham. 
Come show me what thou'lt do.  
Wilt weep? Wilt fight? Wilt tear thyself?  
Wilt drink up Esile, 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, and thou'lt mouth,  
I'll rant as well as thou.  Kin. 
This is mere Madness:  
And thus awhile the fit will work on him:  
Anon as patiented as the female Dove,  
When that her golden Cuplet are disclosed;  
His silence will sit drooping.  Ham. 
Hear you Sir:  
What is the reason that you use me thus?  
I loud 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. Kin. 
I pray you good Horatio wait upon him,  
Strengthen you 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. Enter Hamlet and Horatio. Ham. 
So much for this Sir; now let me see the other,  
You do remember all the Circumstance.  Hor. 
Remember it my Lord?  Ham. 
Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fight,  
That would not let me sleep; me thought I lay  
Worse than the mutines in the Bilboes, rashly,  
(And praise be rashness for it) let us know,  
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,  
When our dear plots do paul, and that should teach us,  
There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,  
Rough-hew them how we will.  Hor. 
That is most certain.  Ham. 
up from my Cabin  
My sea-gown scarfed about me in the dark,  
Groped I to find out them; had my desire,  
Fingered 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,  
Oh royal knavery: An exact command,  
Larded with many several sorts of reason;  
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,  
With ho, such Bugs and Goblins in my life,  
That on the superuize no leisure bated,  
No not to stay the grinding of the Axe,  
My head should be struck off.  Hor. 
Is't possible?  Ham. 
Here's the Commission, read it at more leisure:  
But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?  Hor. 
I beseech you.  Ham. 
Being thus benetted round with Villains,  
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 laboured much  
How to forget that learning: but Sir now,  
It did me Yeoman's service: wilt thou know  
The effects of what I wrote?  Hor. 
I, good my Lord.  Ham. 
An earnest Conjuration from the King,  
As England was his faithful Tributary,  
As love between them, as the Palm should flourish,  
As Peace should still her wheaten Garland wear,  
And stand a Comma between their amities,  
And many such like Assis of great charge,  
That on the view and know of these Contents,  
Without debatement further, more or less,  
He should the bearers put to sudden death,  
Not shriving time allowed.  Hor. 
How was this sealed?  Ham. 
Why, even in that was Heaven ordinate;  
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, gav't th' impression, placed it safely,  
The changeling never known: Now, the next day  
Was our Sea Fight, and what to this was cement,  
Thou knowst already.  Hor. 
So Guildensterne and Rosincrance, go too't.  Ham. 
Why man, they did make love to this employment  
They are not near my Conscience; their debate  
Doth by their own insinuation grow:  
'Tis dangerous, when the base nature comes  
Between the pass, and fell incensed points  
Of mighty opposites.  Hor. 
Why, what a King is this?  Ham. 
Does it not, thinkest thee, stand me now upon  
He that hath killed my King, and whored my Mother,  
Popped in between th' 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 damned  
To let this Canker of our nature come  
In further evil.  Hor. 
It must be shortly known to him from England  
What is the issue of the business there.  Ham. 
It will be short,  
The interim's mine, and a man's life's no more  
Then 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 count his favours:  
But sure the bravery of his grief did put me  
Into a Towering passion.  Hor. 
Peace, who comes here?  Enter young Osric. Osr. 
Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.  Ham. 
I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie?  Hor. 
No my good Lord.  Ham. 
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 Chowgh; but as I saw spacious in the possession of dirt.  Osr. 
Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leisure,  
I should impart a thing to you from his Majesty.  Ham. 
I will receive it with all diligence of spirit; put your Bonnet to his right use, 'tis for the head.  Osr. 
I thank your Lordship, 'tis very hot.  Ham. 
No, believe me 'tis very cold, the wind is Northerly.  Osr. 
It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed.  Ham. 
Me thinks it is very sultry, and hot for my Complexion.  Osr. 
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.  Ham. 
I beseech you remember.  Osr. 
Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith: Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his weapon.  Ham. 
What's his weapon?  Osr. 
Rapier and dagger.  Ham. 
That's two of his weapons; but well.  Osr. 
The sir King has waged with him six Barbary Horses, against the which he imponed as I take it, six French Rapiers and Poniards, with their assigns, as Girdle, Hangers or so: three of the Carriages infaith are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit.  Ham. 
What call you the Carriages?  Osr. 
The Carriages Sir, are the hangers.  Ham. 
The phrase would be more germane 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 but against the Danish; why is this imponed as you call it?  Osr. 
The King Sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes between you and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; He hath one twelve for mine, and that would come to immediate trial, if your Lordship would vouchsafe the Answer.  Ham. 
How if I answer no?  Osr. 
I mean my Lord, the opposition of your person in trial.  Ham. 
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 if I can: if not, I'll gain nothing but my shame, and the odd hits.  Osr. 
Shall I redeliver you e'en so?  Ham. 
To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature will.  Osr. 
I commend my duty to your Lordship.  Ham. 
Yours, yours; he does well to commend it himself, there are no tongues else for's tongue.  Hor. 
This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.  Ham. 
He did Comply with his Dug before he sucked it: thus had he and mine more of the same Bevy that I know the drossy age dotes on; only got the tune of the time, and outward habit of encounter, a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through & through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trials: the Bubbles are out.  Hor. 
You will lose this wager, my Lord.  Ham. 
I do not think so, since he went into France, I have been in continual practice; I shall win at the odds: but thou wouldst not think how all here about my heart: but it is no matter.  Hor. 
Nay, good my Lord.  Ham. 
It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman.  Hor. 
If your mind dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit.  Ham. 
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, Queen, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants with Foils, and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it. Kin. 
Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.  Ham. 
Give me your pardon Sir, I've done you wrong,  
But pardoned as you are a Gentleman.  
This presence knows,  
And you must needs have heard how I am punished  
With sore distraction? What I have done  
That might your nature honour, and exception  
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness:  
Was●t Hamlet wronged Laertes? Never Hamlet.  
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away:  
And when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes,  
Than Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it:  
Who does it then? His Madness? If't be so,  
Hamlet is of the Faction that is wronged,  
His madness is poor Hamlets Enemy.  
Sir, in this Audience,  
Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil,  
Free me so fare in your most generous thoughts,  
That I have shot mine Arrow o'er the house,  
And hurt my Mother.  Laer. 
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 vngorged. But till that time,  
I do receive your offered love like love,  
And will not wrong it.  Ham. 
I do embrace it freely,  
And will this Brother's wager frankly play.  
Give us the Foils: Come on.  Laer. 
Come one for me.  Ham. 
I'll be your foil Laertes, in mine ignorance,  
Your Skill shall like a Star i' th' darkest night,  
Stick fiery off indeed.  Laer. 
You mock me Sir.  Ham. 
No by this hand.  King. 
Give them the Foils young Osric,  
Cousin Hamlet, you know the wagot.  Ham. 
Very well my Lord,  
Your Grace hath laid the odds o' th' weaker side.  King. 
I do not fear it,  
I have seen you both:  
But since he is bettered, we have therefore odds.  Laer. 
This is too heavy,  
Let me see another.  Ham. 
This likes me well,  
These Foils have all a length.  Prepare to play. Osric. 
I my good Lord.  King. 
Set me the Stops 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 Ordinance fire,  
The King shall drink to Hamlets 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 Trumpets speak,  
The Trumpet to the Cannoneer without,  
The Cannons to the Heavens, the Heaven to Earth,  
Now the King drinks to Hamlet. Come, begin,  
And you the judges bear a wary eye.  Ham. 
Come on sir.  Laer. 
Come on sir.  They play. Ham. 
One.  Laer. 
No.  Ham. 
judgement.  Osr. 
A hit, a very palpable hit.  Laer. 
Well: again.  King. 
Stay, give me drink.  
Hamlet, this Pearl is thine,  
Here's to thy health. Give him the cup,  Trumpet's sound, and shot goes off. Ham. 
I'll play this bout first, set by awhile.  
Come: Another hit; what say you?  Laer. 
A touch, a touch, I do confess.  King. 
Our Son shall win.  Qu. 
He's fat, and scant of breath.  
here's a Napkin, rub thy brows,  
The Queen Carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.  Ham. 
Good Madam.  King. 
Gertrude, do not drink.  Qu. 
I will my Lord;  
I pray you pardon me.  King. 
It is the poisoned Cup, it is too late.  Ham. 
I dare not drink yet Madam,  
By and by.  Qu. 
Come, let me wipe thy face.  Laer. 
My Lord, I'll hit him now.  King. 
I do not think't.  Laer. 
And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.  Ham. 
Come for the third.  
Laertes, you but daily,  
I pray you pass with your best violence,  
I am afeared you make a wanton of me.  Laer. 
Say you so? Come on.  Play. Osr. 
Nothing neither way.  Laer. 
Have at you now.  In scuffling they change Rapiers. King. 
Part them, they are incensed.  Ham. 
Nay come, again.  Osr. 
Look to the Queen there hoa.  Hor. 
They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord?  Osr. 
How is't Laertes?  Laer. 
Why as a Woodcock  
To mine Springe, Osric,  
I am justly killed with mine own Treachery.  Ham. 
How does the Queen?  King. 
She sounds to see them bleed.  Qu. 
No, no, the drink, the drink.  
Oh my dear Hamlet, the drink, the drink,  
I am poisoned.  Ham. 
Oh Villainy! How? Let the door be locked.  
Treachery, seek it out.  Laer. 
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 envenomed: the foul practice  
Hath turned itself on me. Lo, here I lie,  
Never to rise again: Thy Mother's poisoned:  
I can no more, the King, the King's too blame.  Ham. 
The point envenomed too,  
Then venom to thy work.  Hurts the King. All. 
Treason, Treason.  King. 
O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt.  Ham. 
here thou incestuous, murderous,  
Damned Dane,  
Drink off this Potion: Is thy Union here?  
Fellow my Mother.  King Dies. Laer. 
He is iustly served.  
It is a poison tempered by himself:  
Exchange forgiveness with me, Noble Hamlet;  
Mine and my Father's death come not upon thee,  
Nor thine on me.  Dies. Ham. 
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 stricked in his Arrest) oh I could tell you.  
But let it be: Horatio, I am dead,  
Thou livest, report me and my causes right.  
To the unsatisfied.  Hor. 
Never believe it.  
I am more an Antic Roman then a Dane:  
here's yet some Liquor left.  Ham. 
As th' art a man, give me the Cup.  
Let go, by Heaven I'll have't.  
Oh 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 shout within. 
What warlike noise is this?  Enter Osric. Osr. 
Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland  
To th' Ambassadors of England gives this warlike volley.  Ham. 
O I die Horatio:  
The potent poison quite ore-crowes my spirit,  
I cannot live to hear the News from England,  
But I do prophesy th' 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.  O, o, o, o, Dies Hora. 
Now crack a Noble heart:  
Good-night sweet Prince,  
And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest,  
Why does the Drum come hither?  Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drum, Colours, and Attendants. Fortin. 
Where is this sight?  Hor. 
What is it ye would see;  
If aught of woe, or wonder, cease your search.  For. 
His quarry cries on havoc. Oh proud death,  
What feast is toward in thine eternal Cell.  
That thou so many Princes, at a shoot,  
So bloodily hast strooke.  Amb. 
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 fulfilled,  
That Rosincrance and Guildensterne are dead:  
Where should we have our thankes?  Hor. 
Not from his mouth,  
Had it th' ability of life to thank you:  
He never gave commandment for their death.  
But since so jump upon this bloody question,  
You from the Polake 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 th' yet unknowing world,  
How these things came about. So shall you hear  
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,  
Of accidental judgements, casual slaughters  
Of death's put on by cunning, and forced cause,  
And in this upshot, purposes mistook,  
Fallen on the Inventors heads. All this can I  
Truly deliver.  For. 
Let us haste to hear it,  
And call the Noblest to the Audience.  
For me, with sorrow, I embrace my Fortune,  
I have some Rites of memory in this Kingdom,  
Which are ro claim, my vantage doth  
Invite me,  Hor. 
Of that I shall have always cause to speak,  
And from his mouth  
Whose voice will draw on more:  
But let this same be presently performed,  
Even whiles men's minds are wild,  
Lest more mischance  
On plots, and errors happen.  For. 
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 body; Such a sight as this  
Becomes the Field, but here shows much s.  
Go, bid the Soldiers shoot.  Exeunt Marching: after the which, a Peal of Ordnance are shot off.   
FINIS.   

THE TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmond. Kent. 
I Thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany, than Cornwall.  Glou. 
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 qualities are so weighed, that curiosity in neither, can make choice of either's moiety.  Kent. 
Is not this your Son, my Lord?  Glou. 
His breeding Sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed too't.  Kent. 
I cannot conceive you.  Glou. 
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.  Glou. 
But I have a Son, Sir, by order of Law, some year elder than this; who, yet is no dearer in my account, though this Knave came something saucily to 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, Edmond?  Edm. 
No, my Lord.  Glou. 
My Lord of Kent:  
Remember him hereafter, as my Honourable Friend.  Edm. 
My services to your Lordship.  Kent. 
I must love you, and sue to know you better.  Edm. 
Sir, I shall study deserving.  Glou. 
He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. The King is coming.  Sennet. Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Cordelia, and attendants. Lear. 
Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster.  Glou. 
I shall, my Lord.  Exit. Lear. 
Mean time 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  
Unburdened 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 & Burgundy,  
Great Rivals in our youngest daughters love,  
Long in our Court, have made their amorous sojourn,  
And here are to be answered. 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 borne, speak first.  Gon. 
Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter,  
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty,  
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,  
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour:  
As much as Child ere loved, or Father found.  
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable,  
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.  Cor. 
What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.  Lear. 
Of all these bounds even from this Line, to this,  
With shadowy Forests, and with Champains riched  
With plenteous Rivers, and wide-skirted Meads  
We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies' issues  
Be this perpetual. What says our second Daughter?  
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall?  Reg. 
I am made of that selfe-mettle as my Sister,  
And prise 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 professes,  
And find I am alone felicitate  
In your dear Highness' love.  Cor. 
Then poor Cordelia,  
And yet not so, since I am sure my love's  
More ponderous than my tongue.  Lear. 
To thee, and thine hereditary ever,  
Remain this ample third of our fair Kingdom,  
No less in space, validity, and pleasure  
Then that confeired on goneril. Now our joy,  
Although our last and least; to whose young love▪  
The Vines of France, and Milk of Burgundy,  
Strive to be interest. What can you say, to draw  
A third, more opilent than your Sisters? speak.  Cor. 
Nothing my Lord.  Lear. 
Nothing?  Cor. 
Nothing.  Lear. 
Nothing will come of nothing, speak again.  Cor. 
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave  
My heart into my mouth: I love your Majesty  
According to my bond, no more nor less.  Lear. 
How, how Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,  
Lest you may mar your Fortunes.  Cor. 
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 Sister's Husbands, if they say  
They love you all? Happily 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.  Lear. 
But goes thy heart with this?  Cor. 
I my good Lord.  Lear. 
So young, and so untender?  Cor. 
So young my Lord, and true.  Lear. 
Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowry:  
For by the sacred radiance of the Sun,  
The miseries 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 neighboured, pitied, and relieved,  
As thou my sometime Daughter.  Kent. 
Good my Liege.  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 Dowres, digest the 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 sustained, shall our abode  
Make with you by due turn, only we shall retain  
The name, and all th' addition to a King: the Sway,  
Revennew Execution of the rest,  
Beloved Sons be yours, which to confirm,  
This Coronet part between you.  Kent. 
Royal Lear,  
Whom I have ever honoured as my King▪  
Loved as my Father, as my Master followed,  
As my great Patron thought on in my prayers.  Le. 
The bow is bend & 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 wouldst thou do old man?  
Thinkest thou that duty shall have dread to speak,  
When power to flattery bows?  
To plainness honour's bound,  
When Majesty falls to folly, reserve thy state,  
And in thy best consideration check  
This hideous rashness, answer my life, my judgement:  
Thy youngest Daughter does not love thee least,  
Nor are those empty hearted, whose low found'st  
Reverbe no hollowness.  Lear. 
Kent, on thy life no more.  Kent. 
My life I never held but as pawn  
To wage against thine enemies, ne'er fear to lose it,  
Thy safety being motive.  Lear. 
Out of my sight.  Kent. 
See better Lear, and let me still remain  
The true blank of thine eye.  Kear. 
Now by Apollo,  Lent. 
Now by Apollo, King  
Thou swear'st thy Gods in vain.  Lear. 
O Vassal! Miscreant.  Alb. 
Cor. Dear Sir forbear.  Kent. 
Kill thy Physician, and thy see bestow  
Upon the foul disease, revoke thy gift,  
Or whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,  
I'll tell thee thou dost evil.  Lea. 
Hear me recreant, on thine allegiance hear me;  
That thou hast sought to make us break our vows,  
Which we durst never yet; and with strained pride,  
To come betwixt our sentences, 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 disasters of the world,  
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back  
Upon our kingdom; if on the tenth day following,  
Thy banished trunk be found in our Dominions,  
The moment is thy death, away. By jupiter,  
This shall not be revoked,  Kent. 
Far thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appear,  
Freedom life's hence, and banishment is here;  
The Gods to their dear shelter take thee Maid,  
That justly thinkest, and hast most rightly said:  
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. Enter Gloster with France, and Burgundy Attendants. Cor. 
here's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord.  Lear. 
My Lord of Bugundie,  
We first address toward you, who with this King  
Hath rivaled for our Daughter; what in the least  
Will you require in present Dower with her,  
Or cease your quest of Love?  Bur. 
Most Royal Majesty,  
I crave no more than hath your Highness offered,  
Nor will you tender less?  Lear. 
Right Noble Burgundy,  
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so,  
But now her price is fallen: 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.  Bur. 
I know no answer.  Lear. 
Will you with those infirmities she owes,  
Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,  
Dow'rd with our curse, and strangered with our oath,  
Take her or, leave her.  Bur. 
Pardon me Royal Sir,  
Election makes not up in such conditions.  Le. 
Then leave her sir, for by the power that made me,  
I tell you all her wealth. For you great King,  
I would not from your love make such a stray,  
To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you  
T' avert your liking a more worthier way,  
Then on a wretch whom Nature is ashamed  
Almost t' acknowledge hers.  Fra. 
This is most strange,  
That she whom even but now, was your object.  
The argument of your praise▪ balm of your age,  
The best, the 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-voucht affection  
Fall into taint, which to believe of her  
Must be a faith that reason without miracle  
Should never plant in me.  Cor. 
I yet beseech your Majesty.  
If for I want that glib and oily Art,  
To speak and purpose not, since what I will intent,  
I'll do't before I speak, that you make known  
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,  
No unchaste action or dishonoured 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,  
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,  
Hath loft me in your liking.  Lear. 
Better thou hadst▪  
Not been borne, than not t have pleased me better.  Fra. 
Is it but this? A tardiness in nature,  
Which often leaves the history unspoken  
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 stands  
Aloof from th' entire point, will you have her?  
She is herself a Dowry.  Bur. 
Royal King,  
Give but that portion which yourself proposed,  
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,  
Duchess of Burgundy.  Lear. 
Nothing, I have sworn, I am firm.  Bur. 
I am sorry than you have so lost a Father,  
That you must lose a husband.  Cor. 
Peace be with Burgundy,  
Since that respect and Fortunes are his love,  
I shall not be his wife.  Fra. 
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 coldest neglect  
My Love should kindle to inflamed respect.  
Thy dowrelesse 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.  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. Fra. 
Bid farewell to your Sisters.  Cor. 
The jewels of our Father, with washed 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. Love 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.  Regn. 
Prescribe not us our duty.  Gon. 
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▪  Cor. 
Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides,  
Who covers faults, at last with shame derides:  
Well may you prosper.  Fra. 
Come my fair Cordelia.  Exit France and Cor. Gon. 
Sister, it is not little I have to say,  
Of what most nearly appertains to us both,  
I think our Father will hence to night.  Reg. 
That's most certain, and with you: next month with us.  Gon. 
You see how full of changes his age is, the observation we have made of it hath been little: he always loved our Sister most, and with what poor judgement he hath now cast her off, appears too grossly.  Reg. 
'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.  Gon. 
The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash, then must we look from his age, to receive not alone the imperfections of long engrafted condition, but therewithal the unruly way wardness, that infirm and choleric years bring with them.  Reg. 
Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him, as this of Kent's banishment.  Gon. 
There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him, pray you let us sit together, it our Father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.  Reg. 
We shall further think of it.  Gon. 
We must do something, and i' th' heat.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Bastard. Bast. 
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 Moonshines  
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 Barstadie? Base, Base?  
Who in the lusty stealth of Nature, take  
More composition, and fierce quality,  
Then doth within a dull stolen tired bed  
Go to th' creating a whole tribe of Fops  
Got between a sleep, and wake? Well then,  
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land,  
Our Father's love, is to the Bastard Edmond,  
As to th' legitimate: fine word: Legitimate.  
Well, my Legitimate, if this Letter speed,  
And my invention thrive, Edmond the base  
Shall to ' th' Legitimate: I grow, I prosper:  
Now Gods, stand up for Bastards.  Enter Gloucester. Glo. 
Kent banished thus? and France in choler parted?  
And the King gone to night? Prescribed his power,  
Confined to exhibition? All this done  
Upon the gad? Edmond, how now? What news?  Bast. 
So please your Lordship, none.  Glou. 
Why so earnestly seek you to put up that Letter?  Bast. 
I know no news, my Lord.  Glou. 
What Paper were you reading?  Bast. 
Nothing my Lord.  Glou. 
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.  Bast. 
I beseech you Sir, pardon me; it is a Letter from my Brother, that I have not all oreread; and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your ore-looking.  Glou. 
Give me the Letter, Sir.  Bast. 
I shall offend, either to detain, or give it:  
The Contents, as in part I understand them.  
Are too blame.  Glou. 
Let's see, let's see.  Bast. 
I hope for my Brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay, or taste of my Virtue.  Glou. 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 enjoy half his Revennew for ever, and live the beloved of your Brother.  
Edgar.  
Hum? Conspiracy? Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half his Revennew: my Son Edgar, had he a hand to write this? A heart and brain to breed it in? When came you to this? Who brought it?  Bast. 
It was not brought me, my Lord; there's the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the Casement of my Closet.  Glou. 
You know the character to be your Brothers?  Bast. 
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.  Glou. 
It is his.  Bast. 
It is his hand, my Lord: but I hope his heart is not in the Contents.  Glo. 
Has he never before sounded you in this business?  Bast. 
Never my Lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit, that Sons at perfect age, and Fathers declined, the Father should be as Ward to the Son, and the Son manage his Revennew.  Glou. 
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?  Bast. 
I do not well know my L. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my Brother, till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should 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 writ this to feel my affection to your Honour, & to no other pretence of danger.  Glou. 
Think you so?  Bast. 
If your Honour judge it mere, 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.  Glou. 
He cannot be such a Monster. Edmond 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.  Bast. 
I will seek him Sir, presently: convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.  Glou. 
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 by as 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▪ Edmond, it shall lose thee nothing, do it carefully: and the Noble & true-harted Kent banished; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange.  Exit Bast. 
This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune, often the surfers of our own behaviour, we make guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the Moon, and Stars, as if we were villains on necessity, Fools by heavenly compulsion, Knaves, Thiefs, and Treachers by Spherical predominance. Drunkards, Liars, and Adulterers by an enforced obedience of Planatary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of Whore-master-man, to lay his Goatish disposition on the charge of a Star, My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my Nativity was under Vrsa Maior, so that it follows, I am rough and Lecherous. I should have been that I am, had the maidenlest Star in the Firmament twinkled on my bastardising.  Enter Edgar. 
Pat: he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedy: my Cue is villainous Melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam.— O these Eclipses do portend these divisions. Fa, Sol, Lafoy, Me.  Edg. 
How now Brother Edmond, what serious contemplation are you in?  Bast. 
I am thinking Brother of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these Eclipses.  Edg. 
Do you busy yourself with that?  Bast. 
I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeed unhappily.  
When saw you my Father last?  Edg. 
The night gone by.  Bast. 
Spoke you with him?  Edg. 
I, two hours together.  Bast. 
Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him, by word, nor countenance?  Edg. 
None at all,  Bast. 
Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence, until 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.  Edg. 
Some Villain hath done me wrong.  Edm. 
That's my fear, I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed 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.  Edg. 
Armed, Brother?  Edm. 
Brother, I advice you to the best, I am no honest man, if there be any good meaning toward you: I have told you what I have seen, and heard: But faintly, Nothing like the image, and horror of it, pray you away.  Edg. 
Shall I hear from you anon?  Exit. Edm. 
I do serve you in this business:  
A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,  
Whose nature is so fare from doing harms,  
That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty  
My practices 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Gonerill, and Steward. Gon. 
Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chiding of his Fool?  Ste. 
I Madam.  Gon. 
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.  Ste. 
He's coming Madam, I hear him.  Gon. 
Put on what weary negligence you please,  
You and your Fellows: I'd have it come to question;  
If he distaste it, let him to my Sister,  
Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,  
Remember what I have said.  Ste. 
Well Madam.  Gon. 
And let his Knights have colder looks among you: what grows of it no matter, advice your fellows so, I'll write strait to my Sister to hold my course; prepare for dinner.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Kent. Kent. 
If but as will 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 banished Kent,  
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,  
So may it come, thy Master whom thou Lov'st,  
Shall find thee full of labours.  Horns within. Enter Lear and Attendants. Lear. 
Let me not stay a jot for dinner, go get it ready: how now, what art thou?  Kent. 
A man Sir.  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 judgement, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish.  Lear. 
What art thou?  Kent. 
A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poor as the King.  Lear. 
If thou beest as poor for a subject, as he's for a King, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?  Kent. 
Service.  Lear. 
Who wouldst thou serve?  Kent. 
You.  Lear. 
Dost thou know me fellow?  Kent. 
No Sir, but you have that in your countenance, which I would fain call Master.  Lear. 
What's that?  Kent. 
Authority.  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.  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.  Lear. 
Fellow 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. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter?  Enter Steward. Ste. 
So please you—  Exit. Lear. 
What says the Fellow there? Call the Clot-pole back: where's my Fool? Ho, I think the world's asleep, how now? Where's that Mongrel?  Knigh. 
He says my Lord, your Daughters is not well.  Lear. 
Why came not the slave back to me when I called him?  Knigh. 
Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not.  Lear. 
He would not?  Knight. 
My Lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my judgement 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.  Lear. 
Ha'? Sayest thou so?  Knigh. 
I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I be mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I think your Highness wronged.  Lear. 
Thou but remember'st me of mine own Conception, I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity, then as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness; I will look further intoo't●: but where's my Fool? I have not seen him this two days.  Knight. 
Since my young Ladies going into France  
Sir, the Fool hath much pined away.  Lear. 
No more of that, I have noted it well, go you and tell my Daughter, I would speak with her. Go you call hither my Fool; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither Sir, who am I Sir?  Enter Steward▪ Ste. 
My Lady's Father.  Lear. 
My Lady's Father? my Lord's knave, you whoreson dog, you slave, you cur.  Ste. 
I am none of these my Lord,  
I beseech your pardon.  Lear. 
Do you bandy looks with me, you Rascal?  Ste. 
I'll not be strucken my Lord.  Kent. 
Nor tripped neither, you base Football player.  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 lubbers length again, tarry, but away, go too, have you wisdom, so.  Lear. 
Now my friendly knave I thank thee, there's earnest of thy service.  Enter Foole. Foole. 
Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcomb.  Lear. 
How now my pretty knave, how dost thou?  Foole. 
Sirrah, you were best take my Coxcomb.  Lear. 
Why my Boy?  Foole. 
Why? for taking one's part that's out of favour, nay, & thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly, there take my Coxcombs 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.  Lear. 
Why my Boy?  Fool. 
If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my Coxcombs myself, there's mine, beg another of thy Daughters.  Lear. 
Take heed Sirrah, the whip.  Foole. 
Truth's a dog must to kennel, he must be whipped out, when the Lady Brach may stand by ' th' fire and stink.  Lear. 
A pestilent gall to me.  Foole. 
Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.  Lear. 
Do.  Foole. 
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,  
Then two ten to a score.  Kent. 
This is nothing Foole.  Foole. 
Then 'tis like the breath of an unfeed Lawyer, you gave me nothing for't, can you make no use of nothing Nuncle?  Lear. 
Why no Boy,  
Nothing can be made out of nothing.  Foole. 
Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to, he will not believe a Foole.  Lear. 
A bitter Foole.  Foole. 
Dost thou know the difference my Boy, between a bitter Fool, and a sweet one.  Lear. 
No Lad, teach me.  Foole. 
Nuncle, give me an egg, and I'll give thee two Crowns.  Lear. 
What two Crowns shall they be?  Foole. 
Why after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the meat, the two Crowns of the egg: when thou clovest thy Crowns i' th' middle, and gav'st away both parts, thou boar'st thine Ass on thy back o'er the dirt, thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gav'st thy golden one away; if I speak like myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so.  
Fools had ne'er less grace in a year,  
For wisemen are grown foppish,  
And know not how their wits to wear,  
Their manners are so apish.  Le. 
When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah?  Foole. 
I have used it Nuncle, ere since thou mad'st thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gav'st them the rod, and puttest down thine own breeches, than they  
For sudden joy did weep,  
And I for sorrow sung,  
That such a King should play bopeep,  
And go the Fool among.  
Prie ' thy Nuncle keep a Schoolmaster that can teach  
thy Fool to lie, I would fain learn to lie.  Lear. 
And you lie sirrah, we'll have you whipped.  Foole. 
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 then a fool, and yet I would not be thee Nuncle, thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i' th' middle; here comes one o' the parings.  Enter Gonerill. Lear. 
How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet on? You are too much of late i' th' frown.  Foole. 
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. Yes forsooth I will hold my tongue, so your face bids me, though you say nothing.  
Mum, mum, he that keeps nor crust, not crumb,  
Weary of all, shall want some. That's a shealed Peascod.  Gon. 
Not only Sir this, your all-lycenced 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.  Foole. 
For you know Nuncle, the Hedge-Sparrow fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bitten off by it young, so out went the Candle, and we were left darkling.  Lear. 
Are you our Daughter?  Gon. 
I would you would make use of your good wisdom  
(Whereof I know you are fraught) and put away  
These dispositions, which of late transport you  
From what you rightly are.  Foole. 
May not an Ass know, when the Cart draws the Horse?  
Whoop jug I love thee.  Lear. 
Does any here know me?  
This is not Lear:  
Does Lear walk thus? Speak thus? Where are his eyes?  
Either his Notion weakens, his Discern  
Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so?  
Who is it that can tell me who I am?  Foole. 
Lears shadow.  Lear. 
Your name, fair Gentlewoman?  Gon. 
This admiration Sir, is much o' th' savour  
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you  
To understand my purposes aright:  
As you are Old, and Reverend, should be Wise.  
here do you keep a hundred Knights and Squires,  
Men so disordered, so deboshed, and bold,  
That this our Court infected with their manners,  
Shows like a riotous Inn; Epicurism and Lust  
Makes it more like a Tavern, or a Brothel,  
Then 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 remainders that shall still depend,  
To be such men as may besort your Age,  
Which know themselves, and you.  Lear. 
Darkness, and Devils.  
Saddle my horses: call my Train together.  
Degenerate Bastard, I'll not trouble thee;  
Yet have I left a daughter.  Gon. 
You strike my people, and your disordered rabble, make Servants of their Betters.  Enter Albany. Lear. 
Woe, that too late reputes:  
Is it your will, speak Sir? Prepare my Horses.  
Ingratitude! thou Marblehearted Fiend,  
More hideous when thou show'st thee in a Child,  
Then the Sea-monster.  Alb. 
Pray Sir be patiented.  Lear. 
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?  
Which like an Engine, wrenched my frame of Nature  
From the fixed place: drew from my heart all love,  
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!  
Beat at this gate that let thy Folly in,  
And thy dear judgement out. Go, go, my people.  Alb. 
My Lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant  
Of what hath moved you.  Lear. 
It may be so, my Lord.  
Hear Nature, hear dear Goddess, hear:  
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intent  
To make this Creature fruitful:  
Into her Womb convey stirrility,  
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. Alb. 
Now Gods that we adore,  
Whereof comes this?  Gon. 
Never afflict yourself to know more of it:  
But let his disposition have that scope  
As dotage gives it.  Enter Lear. Lear. 
What fifty of my Followers at a clap?  
Within a fortnight?  Alb. 
What's the matter, Sir?  Lear. 
I'll tell thee:  
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:  
Th' untented wound 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. Ha'? Let it be so.  
I have another daughter,  
Who I am sure is kind and comfortable:  
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails  
she'll slay thy Wolvish visage. Thou shalt find,  
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think  
I have cast off for ever.  Exit Gon. 
Do you mark that?  Alb. 
I cannot be so partial goneril,  
To the great love I bear you.  Gon. 
Pray you content. What Oswald, hoa?  
You Sir, more Knave than Fool, after your Master.  Foole. 
Nunkle Lear, Nunkle Lear,  
Tarry, 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 Gon. 
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.  Alb. 
Well, you may fear too fare.  Gon. 
Safer than trust too fare;  
Let me still take away the harms I fear,  
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart,  
What he hath uttered I have writ my Sister:  
If she sustain him, and his hundred Knights  
When I have showed th' unfitness.  Enter Steward. 
How now Oswald?  
What have you writ that Letter to my Sister?  Stew. 
I Madam.  Gon. 
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; no, no, my Lord,  
This milky gentleness, and course of yours  
Though I condemn not, yet under pardon  
Your are much more at task for want of wisdom,  
Then prai'sd for harmful mildness.  Alb. 
How fare your eyes may pierce I cannot tell;  
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.  Con. 
Nay then—  Alb. 
Well, well, the'uent.  Exeunt  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole. Lear. 
Go you before to Gloster with these Letters; acquaint my Daughter no further with any thing you know, then 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. Foole. 
If a man's brains were in's heels, wert not in danger of kybes?  Lear. 
I Boy.  Foole. 
Then I prithee be merry, thy wit shall not go slipshod.  Lear. 
Ha', ha', ha'.  Fool. 
Shalt see thy other Daughter will use thee kindly, for though she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an Apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.  Lear. 
What canst tell Boy?  Foole. 
She will taste as like this as, a Crab does to a Crab: thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle on's face?  Lear. 
No.  Foole. 
Why to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.  Lear. 
I did her wrong.  Foole. 
Canst tell how an Oyster makes his shell?  Lear. 
No.  Foole. 
Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snail has a house.  Lear. 
Why?  Foole. 
Why to put's head in, not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.  Lear. 
I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be my Horses ready?  Foole. 
Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why the seven Stars are no more than seven, is a pretty reason.  Lear. 
Because they are not eight.  Foole. 
Yes indeed, thou wouldst make a good Foole.  Lear. 
To take't again perforce; Monster Ingratitude!  Foole. 
If thou wert my Fool Nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time.  Lear. 
How's that?  Foole. 
Thou shouldst not have been old, till thou hadst been wise.  Lear. 
O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heaven▪ keep me in temper, I would not be mad. How now are the Horses ready?  Gent. 
Ready my Lord.  Lear. 
Come Boy.  Fool. 
She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure,  
Shall not be a Maid long, unless things be cut shorter.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Bastard, and Curan, severally. Bast. 
Save thee Curan.  Cur. 
And your 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.  Bast. 
How comes that?  Cur. 
Nay I know not, you have heard of the news abroad, I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear●-kissing arguments.  Bast. 
Not I: pray you what are they?  Cur. 
Have you heard of no likely Wars toward,  
'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany?  Bast. 
Not a word.  Cur. 
You may do then in time,  
Far you well Sir.  Exit. Bast. 
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.  Enter Edgar. 
Brother, a word, descend; Brother I say,  
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' th' night, i' th' haste,  
And Regan with him, have you nothing said  
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?  
Advise yourself.  Edg. 
I am sure on't, not a word.  Bast. 
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 hoa, here,  
Fly Brother, Torch's, Torch's, so farewell.  Exit Edgar. 
Some blood drawn on me, would beget opinion  
Of my more fierce endeavour. I have seen drunkards  
Do more than this in sport▪ Father, Father,  
Stop, stop, no help?  Enter Gloster and Servants with Torches. Glo. 
Now Edmund, where's the villain?  Bast. 
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp Sword out,  
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the Moon  
To stand auspicious Mistress.  Glo. 
But where is he?  Bast. 
Look Sir, I bleed.  Glo. 
Where is the villain, Edmund?  Bast. 
Fled this way Sir, when by no means he could.  Glo. 
Pursue him, ho: go after. By no means, what?  Bast. 
Persuade me to the murder of your Lordship,  
But that I told him the revenging Gods,  
'Gainst Parricides did all the thunder bend,  
Spoke with how manifold, and strong a Bond  
The Child was bound to ' th' 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, latched mine arm;  
And when he saw my best alarmed spirits  
Bold in the quarrels right, roused to th' encounter,  
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,  
Full suddenly he fled.  Glost. 
Let him fly fare:  
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 thankes,  
Bringing the murderous Coward to the stake:  
He that conceals him death.  Bast. 
When I dissuaded him from his intent,  
And found him pight to do it, with cursed speech  
I threatened to discover him; he replied,  
Thou unpossessing Bastard, dost thou think,  
If I would stand against thee, would the reposall  
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee  
Make thy words faithed? No, what should I deny,  
(As this I would, though thou didst produce  
My very Character) I'd turn it all  
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice:  
And thou must make a dullard of the world,  
If they not thought the profits of my death  
Were very pregnant and potential spirits  
To make thee seek it.  Tucket within. Glo. 
O strange and fastened Villain,  
Would he deny his Letter, said he?  
Hark, the Duke's Trumpets, I know not where he comes;  
All Ports I'll bar, the villain shall not scape,  
The Duke must grant me that: besides, his picture  
I will send fare and near, that all the kingdom  
May have 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. Corn. 
How now my Noble friend, since I came hither  
(Which I can call but now,) I have heard strangeness.  Reg. 
If it be true; all vengeance comes too short  
Which can pursue th' offender; how dost my Lord?  Glo. 
O Madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked.  Reg. 
What, did my Father's Godson seek your life?  
He whom my Father named, your Edgar?  Glo. 
O Lady, Lady, shame would have it hid.  Reg. 
Was he not companion with the riotous Knights  
That tended upon my Father?  Glo. 
I know not Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad.  Bast. 
Yes Madam, he was of that consort.  Reg. 
No marvel then, though he were ill affected,  
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,  
To have th' expense and waist of his Revenues:  
I have this present evening from my Sister  
Been well informed of them, and with such cautions,  
That if they come to sojourn at my house,  
I'll not be there.  Cor. 
Nor I, assure thee Regan;  
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your Father  
A Childlike Office.  Bast. 
It was my duty Sir.  Glo. 
He did bewray his practice, and received  
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.  Cor. 
Is he pursued?  Glo. 
I my good Lord.  Cor. 
If he be taken, he shall never more  
Be feared 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,  
Nature's of such deep trust, we shall much need:  
You we first seize on.  Bast. 
I shall serve you Sir truly, how ever else.  Glo. 
For him I thank your Grace.  Cor. 
You know not why we came to visit you?  Reg. 
Thus out of season, thredding dark eyed night,  
Occasions Noble Gloster of some prize,  
Wherein we must have use of your advice.  
Our Father he hath writ, so hath our Sister,  
Of differences, which I best though 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 businesses,  
Which craves the instant use.  Glo. 
I serve you Madam,  
Your Graces are right welcome.  Exeunt. Flourish.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Kent, and Steward severally. Stew. 
Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?  Kent. 
I.  Stew. 
Where may we set our horses?  Kent. 
I' th' mire.  Stew. 
Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me.  Kent. 
I love thee not.  Ste. 
Why then I care not for thee.  Kent. 
If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for me.  Ste. 
Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.  Kent. 
Fellow I know thee.  Ste. 
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 woosted-stocking knave, a Lilly-livered, action-taking, whoreson glasse-gazing super-seruiceable finical Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting slave, one that wouldst be a Bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a Knave, Beggar, Coward, Pandarus, and the Son and Heir of a Mongrel Bitch, one whom I will beat into clamours whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.  Stew. 
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 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'th' Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly Barber-monger, draw.  Stew. 
Away, I have nothing to do with thee.  Kent. 
Draw you Rascal, you come with Letters against the King, and take Vanity the puppets part, against the Royalty of her Father: draw you Rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascal, come your ways.  Ste. 
Help, ho, murder, help.  Kent. 
Strike you slave: stand rogue, stand you neat slave, strike.  Stew. 
Helpe hoa, murder, murder.  Enter Bastard, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, Servants. Bast. 
How now, what's the matter? Part.  Kent. 
With you goodman Boy, if you please, come,  
I'll flesh ye, come on young Master.  Glo. 
Weapons? Arms? what's the matter here?  Cor. 
Keep peace upon your lives, he dies that strikes again, what is the matter?  Reg. 
The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?  Cor. 
What is your difference, speak?  Stew. 
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.  Cor. 
Thou art a strange fellow, a Tailor make a man?  Kent. 
A Taylor Sir, a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two years o'th' trade.  Cor. 
Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?  Ste. 
This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I have spared at suit of his graybeard.  Kent. 
Thou whoreson Said, thou unnecessary letter: my Lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unboulted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my graybeard, you wagtail?  Cor. 
Peace sirrah,  
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?  Kent. 
Yes Sir, but anger hath a privilege.  Cor. 
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 it intrince, t' unloose: smooth every passion  
That in the natures of their Lords rebel,  
Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods,  
Revenge, affirm, and turn their Haltion beaks  
With every gall, and vary of their Masters,  
Knowing naught (like dogs) but following:  
A plague upon your Epilepticke visage,  
Smile you my speeches, as I were a Fool?  
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum Plaine,  
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.  Corn. 
What art thou mad old Fellow?  Glost. 
How fell you out, say that?  Kent. 
No contraries hold more antipathy,  
Then I, and such a knave.  Corn. 
Why dost thou call him Knave?  
What is his fault?  Kent. 
His countenance likes me not.  Cor. 
No more perchance does mine, not his, nor hers.  Kent. 
Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain,  
I have seen better faces in my time,  
Then stands on any shoulder that I see  
Before me, at this instant.  Corn. 
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,  
And 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,  
Then twenty silly-ducking observants,  
That stretch their duties nicely.  Kent. 
Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,  
Under th' allowance of your great aspect,  
Whose influence like the wreath of radiant fire  
On flicking Phoebus' front.  Corn. 
What meanest 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 too't.  Corn. 
What was th' offence you gave him?  Ste. 
I never gave him any:  
It pleased the King his Master very late  
To strike at me upon his misconstruction,  
When he compact, and flattering his displeasure  
Tripped me behind: being down, insulted, railed,  
And put upon him such a deal of Man,  
That worthied him, got praises of the King,  
For him attempting, who was selfe-subdued,  
And in the fleshment of this dead exploit,  
Drew on me here again.  Kent. 
None of these Rogues, and Cowards  
But Aiax is there Foole.  Corn. 
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 respects, show too bold malice  
Against the Grace, and Person of my Master,  
Stocking his Messenger.  Corn. 
Fetch forth the Stocks;  
As I have life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noon.  Reg. 
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.  Reg. 
Sir, being his Knave, I will.  Stocks brought out. Cor. 
This is a Fellow of the self same colour,  
Our Sister speaks of. Come, bring away the Stocks.  Glo. 
Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so,  
The King his Master, needs must take it ill  
That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,  
Should have him thus restrained.  Cor. 
I'll answer that.  Reg. 
My Sister may receive it much more worse,  
To have her Gentleman abused, assaulted.  Corn. 
Come my Lord, away.  Exit. Glo. 
I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Duke pleasure,  
Whose disposition all the world well knows  
Will not be rubbed nor stopped, I'll entreat for thee.  Kent. 
Pray do not Sir, I have watched and travailed 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.  Glo. 
The Duke's too 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 informed  
Of my obscured course. And shall find time  
From this enormous State, seeking to give  
Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatched,  
Take vantage heavy eyes, not to behold  
This shameful lodging. Fortune good-night,  
Smile once more, turn thy wheel.  Enter Edgar. Edg. 
I heard myself proclaimed,  
And by the happy hollow of a Tree,  
Escaped the hunt. No Port is free, no place  
That guard, and most unusall 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, else all my hairs in knots,  
And with presented nakedness outface  
The Winds, and persecutions of the sky;  
The Country gives me proof, and precedent  
Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices,  
Strike in their numbed and mortified Arms,  
Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nails, Sprigs of Rosemary:  
And with this horrible object, from low Farms,  
Poor pelting Villages, Sheeps-Coates, and Milles,  
Sometimes with Lunatic bans, sometime with Prayers  
Enforce their charity: poor Turlygod, poor Tom,  
That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.  Exit. Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. Lea. 
'Tis strange that they should so departed from home,  
And not send back my Messengers.  Gent. 
As I learned,  
The night before, there was no purpose in them  
Of this remove.  Kent. 
Hail to thee Noble Master.  Lear. 
Ha'? Makest thou this shame ahy pastime?  Kent. 
No my Lord.  Foole. 
Ha, ha', he wears Cruel Garters Horses are tied by the heads, Dogs and Bears by ' th' neck, Monkeys by ' th' loins, and Men by ' th' legs: when a man overlusty at legs, than he wears wooden nether-stocks.  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.  Lear. 
No.  Kent. 
Yes.  Lear. 
No I say.  Kent. 
I say yea.  Lear. 
By jupiter I swear no.  Kent. 
By juno, I swear I  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 shown  
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking Post,  
Stewed in his haste, half breathless, painting forth  
From goneril his Mistress, salutations;  
Delivered Letters spite of intermission,  
Which presently they read; on those contents  
They summoned up their meiney, strait taken 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 poisoned mine,  
Being the very fellow which of late  
Displayed 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.  Foole. 
Winters not gone yet, if the wiled 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 th' poor.  
But for all this thou shalt have as many Dolours for thy  
Daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.  Lear. 
Oh how this Mother swells up toward my heart!  
Historica passio, down thou climbing sorrow,  
Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?  Kent. 
Wirh the Earl Sir, here within.  Lear. 
Fellow me not, stay here.  Exit. Gen. 
Made you no more offence,  
But what you speak of?  Kent. 
None:  
How chance the the King comes with so small a number?  Foole. 
And thou hadst been set i' th' Stocks for that question, thou'dst well deserved it.  Kent. 
Why Fool?  Foole. 
we'll set thee to school to an Ant, to teach thee there's no labouring i' th' 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. But the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after: when a wiseman gives thee better counsel give me mine again, I would house 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 gins to rain,  
And leave thee in the storm,  
But I will tarry, the Fool will stay,  
And let the wiseman fly:  
The knave turns Fool that runs away,  
The Fool no knave perdie.  Enter Lear, and Gloster: Kent. 
Where learned you this Fool?  Foole. 
Not i' th' Stocks Foole.  Lear. 
Deny to speak with me?  
They are sick, they are weary,  
They have travailed all the night? mere fetches,  
The images of revolt and flying off.  
Fetch me a better answer.  Glo. 
My dear Lord,  
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,  
How unremovable and fixed he is  
In his own course.  Lear. 
Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confusion:  
Fiery? What quality? Why Gloster▪ Gloster,  
I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall, and his wife.  Glo. 
Well my good Lord, I have informed them so.  Lear. 
Informed them? Dost thou understand me man.  Glo. 
I my good Lord.  Lear. 
The King would speak with Cornwall,  
The dear Father  
Would with his Daughter speak, commands, tends, service,  
Are they informed 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 oppressed, commands the mind  
To suffer with the body; I'll forbear,  
And am fallen out with my more headier will,  
To take the indisposed and sickly fit,  
For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore  
Should he sit here? This act persuades me,  
That this emotion of the Duke and her  
Is practise only. Give me my Servant forth;  
Go tell the Duke, and's wife, I'd 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.  Glo. 
I would have all well betwixt you.  Exit. Lear. 
Oh me my heart! My rising heart! But down.  Foole. 
Cry to it Nuncle, as the Cockney did to the Ecles, when she put 'em i' th' Paste alive, she knapped 'em o' th' coxcombs with a stick, and cried down wantoness, down; 'twas her Brother, that in pure kindness to his Horse buttered his Hay.  Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, Servants. Lear. 
Good morrow to you both.  Corn. 
Hail to your Grace.  Kent here set at liberty. Reg 
I am glad to see your Highness.  Lear. 
Regan, I think your are. I know what reason  
I have to think so, if thou shouldst not be glad,  
I would divorce me from thy Mother Tomb,  
Sepulchering an Adultress. O are you free?  
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,  
Thy Sisters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied  
Sharpe-toothed unkindness, like a vulture here,  
I can scarce speak to thee, thou'lt not believe  
With how depraved a quality. Oh Regan.  Reg. 
I pray you Sir, take patience, I have hope  
You less know how to value her desert,  
Then she to scant her duty.  Lear. 
Say? How is that?  Reg. 
I cannot think my Sister in the least  
Would fail her Obligation. If Sir perchance  
She have restrained the Riots of your Followres,  
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,  
As clears her from all blame.  Lear. 
My curses on her.  Reg. 
O Sir, you are old,  
Nature in you stands on the very Verge  
Of his 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 wronged her.  Lear. 
Ask her forgiveness?  
Do you but mark how this becomes the house?  
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;  
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg,  
That you'll vouchsafe me Raiment, Bed, and Food.  Reg. 
Good Sir, no more: these are unsightly tricks:  
Return you to my Sister.  Lear. 
Never Regan:  
She hath abated me of half my Train;  
Looked black upon me, strooke me with her Tongue  
Most Serpentlike, upon the very Heart.  
All the stored Vengeances of Heaven, fall  
On her ingrateful top: strike her young bones  
You taking Airs, with Lameness.  Corn. 
Fie sir. fie.  Le. 
You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames  
Into her scornful eyes: Infect her Beauty,  
You Fen-sucked Fogs, drawn by the powerful Sun,  
To fall, and blister.  Reg▪ 
O the blessed Gods!  
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.  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 knowst  
The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood,  
Effects of Courtesy, dues of Gratitude:  
Thy half o' th' Kingdom hast thou not forgot,  
Wherein I thee endowed.  Reg. 
Good Sir, to ' th' purpose.  Tucket within. Lear. 
Who put my● an i' th' Stocks?  Enter Steward. Corn. 
What Trumpet's that?  Reg. 
I know't, my Sisters: this approves her Letter,  
That she would soon be here. Is your Lady come?  Lear. 
This is a Slave, whose easy borrowed pride  
Dwells in the fickly grace of her he follows.  
Out Varlet, from my sight.  Corn. 
What means your Grace?  Enter Gonerill. Lear. 
Who stocked my Servant? Regan, I have good hope  
Thou didst not know on't.  
Who comes here? O Heavens!  
If you do love old men; if your sweet sway  
Allow Obedience; if you yourselves are old,  
Make it your cause: Send down, and take my part.  
Art not ashamed to look upon this Beard?  
O Regan, will you take her by the hand?  Gon. 
Why not by ' th' hand Sir? How have I offended?  
All's not offence that indiscretion finds,  
And dotage terms so.  Lear. 
O sides, you are too tough!  
Will you yet hold?  
How came my man i' th' Stocks?  Corn. 
I set him there, Sir: but his own Disorders  
Deserved much less advancement.  Lear. 
You? Did you?  Reg. 
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.  Lear. 
Return to her? and fifty men dismissed?  
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose  
To wage against the enmity o'th' air,  
To be a Comrade with the Wolf, and Owl,  
Necessity's sharp pinch. Return with her?  
Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerless took  
Our youngest borne, I could as well be brought  
To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg,  
To keep base life a foot; return with her?  
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter  
To this detested groom.  Gon. 
At your choice Sir.  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, or 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 shore,  
Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging jove,  
Mend when thou canst, be better at thy leisure,  
I can be patiented, I can stay with Regan,  
I and my hundred Knights.  Reg. 
Not altogether so,  
I looked 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.  Lear. 
Is this well spoken?  Reg. 
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.  Gon. 
Why might not you my Lord, receive attendance  
From those that she calls Servants, or from mine?  Reg. 
Why not my Lord?  
If then they chanced to slack ye,  
We could control them; if you will come to me,  
(For now I spie danger) I entreat you  
To bring but five and twenty, to no more  
Will I give place or notice.  Lear. 
I gave you all.  Reg. 
And in good time you gave it.  Lear. 
Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries,  
But kept a reservation to be followed  
With such a number? What, must I come to you  
With five and twenty? Regan, said you so?  Reg. 
And speak't again my Lord, no more with me.  Lea. 
Those wicked Creatures yet do look well favoured  
When others are more wicked, not being the worst  
Stands in some rank of praise, I'll go with thee,  
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,  
And thou art twice her Love..  Gon. 
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?  Reg. 
What need one?  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 is cheap as Beasts. 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 stirs these Daughter's 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 shallbe  
The terrors of the earth? you think I'll weep,  
No, I'll not weep, I have full cause of weeping.  Storm and Tempest. 
But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws  
Or ere I'll weep: O Fool, I shall go mad.  Exeunt. Corn. 
Let us withdraw, 'twill be a Storm.  Reg. 
This house is little, the old man an'ds people,  
Cannot be well bestowed.  Gon. 
'Tis his own blame hath put himself from rest,  
And must needs taste his folly.  Reg. 
For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,  
But not one follower.  Gon. 
So am I purposed,  
Where is my Lord of Gloster?  Enter Gloster. Corn. 
Followed the old man forth, he is returned.  Glo. 
The King is in high rage.  Corn. 
Whether is he going?  Glo. 
He calls to Horse, but will I know not whether.  Corn. 
'Tis best to give him way, he leads himself.  Gon. 
My Lord, entreat him by no means to stay.  Glo. 
Alack the night comes on, and the high winds  
Do sorely ruffle, for many Miles about  
There's scarce a Bush.  Reg. 
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 too, being apt,  
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.  Cor. 
Shut up your ●ores my Lord, 'tis a wiled night,  
My Regan counsels well●: come out o'th' storm.  Exeunt.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Storm still. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, severally. Kent. 
Who's there besides foul weather?  Gen. 
One minded like the weather, most unquietly.  Kent. 
I know you: Where's the King?  Gent. 
Contending with the fretful Elements;  
Bids the wind blow the Earth into the Sea,  
Or swell the curled Waters 'boue the main,  
That things might change, or cease.  Kent. 
But who is with him?  Gent. 
None but the Fool, who labours to out-iest  
His heartstruck 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 is covered  
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 pack of the Dukes,  
Or the hard Rhine which both of them hath borne  
Against the old kind King; or something deeper,  
Whereof (perchance) these are but furnish.  Gent. 
I will talk further with you.  Kent. 
No, do not:  
For confirmation that I am much more  
Than my outwall; 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 that Fellow is  
That yet you do not know. Fie on this Storm,  
I will go seek the King.  Gent. 
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.  

Scena Secunda.  Storm still. Enter Lear, and Foole. Lear. 
Blow winds, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow  
You Cataracts, and Hyrricano's spout,  
Till you have drenched our Steeples, drown the Cocks.  
You Sulphurous and Thought-executing Fires,  
Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleaving Thunderbolts,  
Sing my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder,  
Strike flat the thick Rotundity o' th' world,  
Crack Nature's moulds, all germans spill at once  
That makes ingrateful Man.  Foole. 
O Nunkle, Court holy-water in a dry house, is better than this Rain-water out o' door. Good Nunkle, in, ask thy Daughter's blessing, here's a night pities neither Wisemen, nor Fools.  Lear. 
Rumble thy belly full: spit Fire, spout Raine:  
Nor Rain, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters;  
I tax not you, you Elements with unkindness.  
I never gave you Kingdom, called you Children;  
You own 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 will with two pernicious Daughters join  
Your high-engendered Battles, 'gainst a head  
So old, and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foul.  Foole. 
He that has a house to put's head in, has a good Head-piece:  
The Codpiece 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 Hart 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.  Enter Kent. Lear. 
No, I will be the pattern of all patience,  
I will say nothing.  Kent. 
Who's there?  Foole. 
Marry here's Grace, and a Codpiece, that's a Wiseman, and a Foole.  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  
Th' affliction, nor the fear.  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  
Vnwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou Bloody hand;  
Thou Perjured, and thou Simular of Virtue  
That art Incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake  
That under covert, and convenient seeming  
Has practised on man's life. Close pent-up guilts,  
Rive your concealing Continents, and cry  
These dreadful Summoners grace. I am a man,  
More sinned against, then sinning.  Kent. 
Alack, bareheaded?  
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,  
(Moore 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.  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,  
And can make vild things precious. Come, your Hovel;  
Poor Fool, and Knave, I have one part in my heart  
That's sorry yet for thee.  Foole. 
He that has and a little-tyne wit,  
With heigh-ho, the Wind and the Rain,  
Must make content with his Fort ●es fit,  
Though the Rain it raineth every day.  Le. 
True Boy: Come bring us to this Hovel.  Exit. Foole. 
This is a brave night to cool a Courtesan:  
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 Tailor's Tutors,  
No Heretics burned, 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' th' Field,  
And Bawds, and whores, do Churches build,  
Then shall the Realm of Albion, come to great confusion:  
Then comes the time, who life's to see't,  
That going shallbe used with feet.  
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time.  Exit.  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Gloster, and Edmund. Glo. 
Alack, alack Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing; when I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house, charged me on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speake of him entreat for him, or any way sustain him.  Bast. 
Most savage and unnatural.  Glo. 
Go too; say you nothing. There is division between 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 is part of a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I will look 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, if I die for it, (as no less is threatened me) the King my old Master must be relieved. There is strange things toward Edmund, pray you be careful.  Exit. Bast. 
This Courtesy forbidden 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.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole. 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 Lear. 
Let me alone.  Kent. 
Good my Lord enter here.  Lear. 
Wilt break my heart?  Kent. 
I had rather break mine own,  
Good my Lord enter.  Lear. 
Thou thinkest 'tis much that this contentious storm  
Invades us to the skinso: 'tis to thee,  
But where the greater malady is fixed,  
The lesser is scarce felt. thou'dst shun a Bear,  
But if they flight lay toward the roaring Sea,  
thou'dst meet the Bear i' th' mouth, when the mind's free,  
The bodies 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 too'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, Gonerill,  
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.  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,  
In Boy, go first. You houselesse poverty,  Exit. 
Nay get thee in; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.  
Poor naked wretches, where so ere you are  
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,  
How shall your Houselesse heads, and unfed sides,  
Your loped, and windowed 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.  Enter Edgar, and Foole. Edg. 
Fathom, and half, Fathom and half; poor Tom.  Foole. 
Come not in here Nuncle, here's a spirit, help me, help me.  Kent. 
Give me thy hand, who's there?  Foole. 
A spirit, a spirit, he says his name's poor Tom.  Kent. 
What art thou that dost grumble there i' th' straw? Come forth.  Edg. 
Away, the foul Fiend follows me, through the sharp Hauthorne blow the winds. Humh, go to thy bed and warm thee.  Lear. 
Didst thou give all to thy Daughters? And art thou come to this?  Edgar. 
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? Whom the foul fiend hath led though Fire, and through Flame, through Sword, and Whirlpool, o'er Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid Knives under his Pillow, and Halters in his Pew, set Ratsbane by his Porridge, made him Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, over four incht Bridges, to coarse his own shadow for a Traitor. Bliss thy five Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do de, bliss thee from Whirlwinds, Starre-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. Lear. 
Has his Daughters brought him to this pass?  
Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give 'em all?  Foole. 
Nay, he reserved a Blanket, else we had been all shamed.  Lea. 
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.  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 Pelicane Daughters.  Edg. 
Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill, allow: allow, loo, loo.  Foole. 
This cold night will turn us all to Fools, and Madmen.  Edgar. 
Take heed o' th' fool Fiend, obey thy Parents, keep thy words justice, swear not, commit not, with man's sworn Spouse: set not thy Sweetheart on proud array. Tom's a cold.  Lear. 
What hast thou been?  Edg. 
A Servingman? 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 spoke words, & broke them in the sweet face of Heaven. One, that slept in the contriving of Lust, and waked to do it. Wine loved I dearly, 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 Lender's Books, and defy the foul Fiend. Still through the Hauthorne blows the cold wind: Says suum, must, nonny, Dolphin my Boy, Boy Sesey: let him troth by.  Storm still. Lear. 
Thou wert better in a Grave, then to answer with thy uncovered body, this extremity of the Skies. Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st 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 Lend: Come, unbutton here.  Enter Gloucester, with a Torch. Foole. 
Prithee Nuncle be contented, 'tis a naughty night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild Field, were like an old Lechers heart, a small spark, all the rest on's body, cold: Look, here comes a walking fire.  Edg. 
This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he gins at Curfew, and walks at first Cock: He gives the Web and the Pin, squints the eye, and makes the Hare-lippe; Mildews the white Wheat, and hurts the poor Creature of earth.  
Swithold footed thrice the old,  
He met the Nightmare, and her ninefold;  
Bid her a-light, and her trothplight,  
And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee.  Kent. 
How fares your Grace?  Lear. 
What's he?  Kent. 
Who's there? What is't you seek?  Glou. 
What are you there? Your Names?  Edg. 
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming Frog, the Toad, the Tod-pole, the wall-Neut, and the water: that in the fury of his heart, when the foul Fiend rages, eats Cowdung for Salads; swallows the old Rat, and the ditch-Dogge; drinks the green Mantle of the standing Pool: who is whipped from Tything to Tything, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned: who hath three Suits to his back, six shirts to his body:  
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear:  
But Mice, and Rats, and such small Dear,  
Have been Tom's food, for seven long year:  
Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend.  Glou. 
What, hath your Grace no better company?  Edg. 
The Prince of Darkness is a Gentleman. Modo he's called, and Mahu.  Glou. 
Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is grown so vild, that it doth hate what gets it.  Edg. 
Poor Tom's a cold.  Glou. 
Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer  
T' 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.  Lear. 
First let me talk with this Philosopher,  
What is the cause of Thunder?  Kent. 
Good my Lord take his offer,  
Go into th' house.  Lear. 
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban:  
What is your study?  Edg. 
How to prevent the Fiend, and to kill Vermin.  Lear. 
Let me ask you one word in private.  Kent. 
Importune him once more to go my Lord,  
His wits begin t' unsettle.  Glou. 
Canst thou blame him?  Storm still 
His Daughters seek his death: Ah, that good Kent,  
He said it would be thus: poor banished man:  
Thou sayest the King grows mad, I'll tell thee Friend  
I am almost mad myself. I had a Son,  
Now outlawed from my blood: he sought my life  
But lately: very late: I loved him (Friend)  
No Father his Son dearer: true to tell thee,  
The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this?  
I do beseech your grace.  Lear. 
O cry you mercy, Sir:  
Noble Philosopher, your company.  Edg. 
Tom's a cold.  Glou. 
In fellow there, into th' Hovel; keep thee warm.  Lear. 
Come, let's in all.  Kent. 
This way, my Lord.  Lear. 
With him;  
I will keep still with my Philosopher.  Kent. 
Good my Lord, soothe him:  
Let him take the Fellow.  Glou. 
Take him you on.  Kent. 
Sirrah, come on: go along with us.  Lear. 
Come, good Athenian.  Glou. 
No words, no words, hush.  Edg. 
Child Rowland to the dark Tower came,  
His word was still, fie, foh, and fumme,  
I smell the blood of a British man.  Exeunt  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Cornwall, and Edmund. Corn. 
I will have my revenge, ere I depart his house.  Bast. 
How my Lord, I may be censured, that Nature thus gives way to Loyalty, something fears me to think of.  Cornw. 
I now perceive, it was not altogether your Brothers evil disposition made him seek his death: but a provoking merit set a-work by a reprovable badness in himself.  Bast. 
How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be just? This is the Letter which 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.  Corn. 
Go with me to the Duchess.  Bast. 
If the matter of this Paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.  Corn. 
True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester: seek out where thy Father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.  Bast. 
If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his suspicion more fully. I will persever in my course of Loyalty, though the conflict be sore between that, and my blood.  Corn. 
I will lay trust upon thee: and thou shalt find a dear Father in my love.  Exeunt.  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Kent, and Gloucester. Glou. 
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.  Exit Kent. 
All the power of his wits, have given way to his impatience: the Gods reward your kindness.  Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole. Edg. 
Fraterretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an Angler in the Lake of Darkness: pray Innocent, and beware the foul Fiend.  Foole. 
Prithee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be a Gentleman, or a Yeoman.  Lear. 
A King, a King.  Foole. 
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.  Lear. 
To have a thousand with red burning spits  
Come hizzing in upon 'em.  Edg. 
Bless thy five wits.  Kent. 
O pity: Sir, where is the patience now  
That you so oft have boasted to retain?  Edg. 
My tears begin to take his part so much,  
They mar my counterfeiting.  Lear. 
The little dogs, and all;  
Trey, Blanch, and Sweetheart: see, they bark at me.  Edg. 
Tom, will throw his head at them: Avaunt you  
Curs, be thy mouth or black or white:  
Tooth that poisons if it bite:  
Mastiff, Greyhound, Mongrill, Grim,  
Hound or Spaniel, Brach, or Him:  
Or Bobtaile tied, or Troudle tail,  
Tom will make him weep and wail,  
For with throwing thus my head;  
Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.  
Do, de, de, de: seize: Come, march to Wakes and Fairs,  
And Market Towns: poor Tom thy horn is dry,  Lear. 
Then let them Anatomize Regan: See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in Nature that make these hard-hearts. 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; but let them be changed.  Enter Gloster. Kent. 
Now good my Lord, lie here, and rest awhile.  Lear. 
Make no noise, make no noise, draw the Curtains: so, so, we'll go to Supper i' th' morning.  Foole. 
And I'll go to bed at noon.  Glou. 
Come hither Friend:  
Where is the King my Master?  Kent. 
Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gone.  Glou. 
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 toward 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. Come, come, away.  Exeunt  

Scena Septima.  Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Servants. Corn. 
Post speedily to my Lord your husband, show him this Letter, the Army of France is landed: seek out the Traitor Glouster.  Reg. 
Hang him instantly.  Gon. 
Pluck out his eyes.  Corn. 
Leave him to my displeasure. Edmond, keep you our Sister company: the revenges we are bound to take upon your Traitorous Father, are not fit for your beholding. Advice the Duke where you are going, to a most festivate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our Posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell dear Sister, farewell my Lord of Glouster.  Enter Steward. 
How now? Where's the King?  Stew. 
My Lord of Glouster hath conveyed 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 toward Dover; where they boast  
To have well armed Friends.  Corn. 
Get horses for your Mistress.  Gon. 
Farewell sweet Lord, and Sister.  Exit Corn. 
Edmund farewell: go seek the Traitor Gloster,  
Opinion him like a Thief, bring him before us:  
Though well we may not pass upon his life  
Without the form of justice: yet our power  
Shall do a curtsy to our wrath, which men  
May blame, but not control.  Enter Gloucester, and Servants. 
Who's there? the Traitor?  Reg. 
Ingrateful Fox, 'tis he.  Corn. 
Bind fast his corky arms.  Glou. 
What means your Graces?  
Good my Friends consider you are my Guests:  
Do me no foul play, Friend's.  Corn. 
Bind him I say.  Reg. 
Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor.  Glou. 
Unmerciful Lady, as you are, I'm none.  Corn. 
To this Chair bind him,  
Villain, thou shalt find.  Glou. 
By the kind Gods, 'tis most ignobly done  
To pluck me by the Beard.  Reg. 
So white, and such a Traitor?  Glou. 
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?  Corn. 
Come Sir.  
What Letters had you late from France?  Reg. 
Be simple answered, for we know the truth.  Corn. 
And what confederacy have you with the Traitors, late footed in the Kingdom?  Reg. 
To whose hands  
You have sent the Lunatic King: Speak.  Glou. 
I have a Letter guessingly set down  
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,  
And not from one opposed.  Corn. 
Cunning.  Reg. 
And false.  Corn. 
Where hast thou sent the King?  Glou. 
To Dover.  Reg. 
Wherefore to Dover?  
Was't thou not charged at peril.  Corn. 
Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that.  Glou. 
I am tied to ' th' Stake,  
And I must stand the Course.  Reg. 
Wherefore to Dover?  Glou. 
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-blacke-night endured, would have buoyed up  
And quenched the Stelled fires:  
Yet poor old heart, he holp the Heavens to rain.  
If Wolves had at thy Gate howled that stern time,  
Thou shouldst have said, good Porter turn the Key:  
All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see  
The winged Vengeance overtake such Children.  Corn. 
See't shalt thou never. Fellows hold the Chair,  
Upon these eyes of thine, I'll set my foot.  Glou. 
He that will think to live, till he be old,  
Give me some help.— O cruel! O you Gods.  Reg. 
One side will mock another: Th' other too.  Corn. 
If you see vengeance.  Seru. 
Hold your hand, my Lord:  
I have served you ever since I was a Child:  
But better service have I never done you,  
Then now to bid you hold.  Reg. 
How now, you dog?  Ser. 
If you did wear a beard upon your chin,  
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?  Corn. 
My Villain?  Seru. 
Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger.  Reg. 
Give me thy Sword. A peasant stand up thus?  Kills him. Ser. 
Oh I am slain: my Lord, you have one eye left  
To see some mischief on him▪ Oh.  Corn. 
Lest it see more, prevent it; Out vild jelly:  
Where is thy lustre now?  Glou. 
All dark and comfortless?  
Where's my Son Edmund?  
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of Nature  
To quit this horrid act.  Reg. 
Out treacherous Villain,  
Thou call'st on him, that hates thee. It was be  
That made the overture of thy Treasons to us:  
Who is too good to pity thee.  Glou. 
O my Follies! then Edgar was abused,  
Kind Gods, forgive me that, and prosper him.  Reg. 
Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell  
His way to Dover.  Exit with Glouster. 
How is't my Lord? How look you?  Corn. 
I have received a hurt: Fellow 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.  Exeunt,   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Edgar. Edg. 
Yet better thus, and known to be contemned,  
Then still contemned and flattered, to be worst:  
The lowest, and most dejected thing of Fortune,  
Stands still in esperance, life's 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.  Enter Glouster, and an Oldman. 
But who comes here? My Father poorly led?  
World, World, O world!  
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,  
Life would not yield to age.  Oldm. 
O my good Lord, I have been your Tenant,  
And your Father's Tenant, these fourscore years.  Glou. 
Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone,  
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,  
thou, they may hurt.  Oldm. 
You cannot see your way.  Glou. 
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. Oh dear Son Edgar,  
The food of thy abused Father's wrath:  
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,  
I'd say I had eyes again.  Oldm. 
How now? who's there?  Edg. 
O Gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst?  
I am worse than ere I was.  Old. 
'Tis poor mad Tom.  Edg. 
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not,  
So long as we can say this is the worst.  Oldm. 
Fellow, where goest?  Glou. 
Is it a Beggar-man?  Oldm. 
Madman, and beggar too.  Glou. 
He has some reason, else he could not beg.  
I' th' 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 th' Gods,  
They kill us for their sport.  Edg. 
How should this be?  
Bad is the Trade that must play Fool to sorrow,  
Ang'ring itself, and others. Bless thee Master.  Glou. 
Is that the naked Fellow?  Oldm. 
I, my Lord.  Glou. 
Get thee away: If for my sake  
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain  
I' th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love,  
And bring some covering for this naked Soul,  
Which I'll entreat to lead me.  Old. 
Alack sir, he is mad.  Glou. 
'Tis the time's plague,  
When Madmen lead the blind:  
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure:  
Above the rest, be gone.  Oldm. 
He bring him the best Apparel that I have  
Come on't, what will.  Exit Glou. 
Sirrah, naked fellow.  Edg. 
Poor Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further.  Glou. 
Come hither fellow.  Edg. 
And yet I must:  
Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.  Glou. 
knowst thou the way to Dover?  Edg. 
Both style, and gate; Horseway, and footpath: poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless thee good man's son, from the foul Fiend.  Glou. 
Here take this purse, thou whom the heaven's 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 does not feel, feel your power quickly:  
So distribution should undo excess,  
And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?  Edg. 
I Master.  Glou. 
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.  Edg. 
Give me thy arm;  
Poor Tom shall lead thee.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward. Gon. 
Welcome my Lord. I marvel our mild husband  
Not met us on the way. Now, where's your Master?  Stew. 
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 informed him, than he called me Sot,  
And told me I had turned the wrong side out:  
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;  
What like, offensive.  Gon. 
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 Edmond to my Brother,  
Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powers.  
I must change names 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' command. Wear this; spare speech,  
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak  
Would stretch thy Spirits up into the air:  
Conceive, and far thee well.  Bast. 
Yours in the ranks of death.  Exit. Gon. 
My most dear Gloster.  
Oh, the difference of man, and man,  
To thee a Woman's services are due,  
My Fool usurps my body.  Stew. 
Madam, here comes my Lord.  Enter Albany. Gon. 
I have been worth the whistle.  Alb. 
Oh goneril,  
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind  
Blows in your face.  Gon. 
Milke-liuered man,  
That bearest a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs,  
Who hast not in thy brows an eye-discerning  
Thine Honour, from thy suffering.  Alb. 
See thyself devil:  
Proper deformity seems not in the Fiend  
So horrid as in woman.  Gon. 
Oh vain Foole.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead,  
Slain by his Servant, going to put out  
The other eye of Glouster.  Alb. 
Glousters' eyes.  Mes. 
A Servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse,  
Opposed against the act: bending his Sword  
To his great Master, who, threat-enraged  
Flew on him, and amongst them felled him dead,  
But not without that harmful stroke, which since  
Hath plucked him after.  Alb. 
This shows you are above  
You justices, that these our neither crimes  
So speedily can venge. But (O poor Glouster)  
Lost he his other eye?  Mes. 
Both, both, my Lord.  
This Letter Madam, craves a speedy answer:  
'Tis from your Sister.  Gon. 
One way I like this well.  
But being widow, and my Glouster 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.  Alb. 
Where was his Son,  
When they did take his eyes?  Mes. 
Come with my Lady hither.  Alb. 
He is not here.  Mes. 
No my good Lord, I met him back again.  Alb. 
Knows he the wickedness?  Mes. 
I my good Lord: 'twas he informed against him  
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment  
Might have the freer course.  Alb. 
Glouster, I live  
To thank thee for the love thou showd'st the King,  
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend,  
Tell me what more thou knowst.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, gentlemans, and Soldiers. Cor. 
Alack, 'tis he: why he was met even now  
As mad as the vexed Sea, singing aloud,  
Crowned with rank Fenitar, and furrow weeds,  
With Hardokes, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo flowers,  
Darnell, and all the idle weeds that grow  
In our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth;  
Search every Acre in the high-growne field,  
And bring him to our eye. What can man's wisdom  
In the restoring his bereft Sense; he that helps him,  
Take all my outward worth.  Cent. 
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.  Cord. 
All blessed Secrets,  
All you vnpublished Virtues of the earth  
Spring with my tears; be aydant, and remediate  
In the Goodman's desires: seek, seek for him,  
Lest his ungoverned rage, dissolve the life  
That wants the means to lead it.  Enter Messenger. Mes. 
News Madam,  
The British Powers are marching hitherward.  Cor. 
'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 importuned tears hath pitied:  
No blown Ambition doth our Arms incite,  
But love, dear love, and our aged Father's Rite:  
Soon may I hear, and see him.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Regan, and Steward. Reg. 
But are my Brother's Powers set forth?  Stew. 
I Madam▪  Reg. 
Himself in person there?  Stew. 
Madam with much ado:  
Your Sister is the better Soldier.  Reg. 
Lord Edmund spoke not with your Lord at home?  Stew. 
No Madam.  Reg. 
What night import my Sister's Letter to him?  Stew. 
I know not, Lady.  Reg. 
Faith he is posted hence on serious matter:  
It was great ignorance, Glousters 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' th' Enemy.  Stew. 
I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter.  Reg. 
Our troops set forth to morrow, stay with us:  
The ways are dangerous.  Stew. 
I may not Madam:  
My Lady charged my duty in this business.  Reg. 
Why should she write to Edmund?  
Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike,  
Some things, I know not what. I'll love thee much  
Let me unseal the Letter.  Stew. 
Madam, I had rather—  Reg. 
I know your Lady does not love her Husband,  
I am sure of that: and at her late being here,  
She gave strange Eliads, and most speaking looks  
To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.  Stew. 
I, Madam?  Reg. 
I speak in understanding: YE are: I know't,  
Therefore I do advice you take this note:  
My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I have talked,  
And more convenient is he for my hand  
Then for your Ladies: 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 far you well:  
If you do chance to hear of that blind Traitor,  
Preferment falls on him, that cuts him off.  Stew. 
Would I could meet Madam, I should show  
What party I do follow.  Reg. 
Far thee well.  Exeunt  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Gloucester, and Edgar. Glou. 
When shall I come to th' top of that same hill?  Edg. 
You do climb up it now. Look how we labour.  Glou. 
Me thinks the ground is eeuen.  Edg. 
Horrible steep.  
Hark, do you hear the Sea?  Glou. 
No truly.  Edg. 
Why then your other Senses grow imperfect  
By your eyes anguish.  Glou. 
So may it be indeed.  
Me thinks thy voice is altered, and thou speakest  
In better phrase, and matter than thou didst.  Edg. 
YE are much deceived: In nothing am I changed  
But in my Garments.  Glou. 
Me thinks ye are better spoken.  Edg. 
Come on Sir,  
here's the place: stand still: how fearful  
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low,  
The Crows and Choughes, that wing the midway air  
Show scarce so gross as Beetles. Half way down  
Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadful Trade:  
methinks he seems no bigger than his head.  
The Fishermen, that walked upon the beach  
Appear like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Bark,  
Diminished to her Cock: her Cock, a Buoy  
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge,  
That on th' unnumbered idle Pibble chafes  
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,  
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight  
Topple down headlong.  Glou. 
Set me where you stand.  Edg. 
Give me your hand:  
You are now within a foot of th' extreme Verge:  
For all beneath the Moon would I not leap upright.  Glou. 
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 further off,  
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.  Edg. 
Now far ye well, good Sir.  Glou. 
With all my heart.  Edg. 
Why I do trifle thus with his despair,  
Is done to cure it.  Glou. 
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 opposelesse wills,  
My snuff, and loathed part of Nature should  
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O bless him:  
Now Fellow, far thee well.  Edg. 
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?  
Hoa, you Sir: Friend, hear you Sir, speak:  
Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives.  
What are you Sir?  Glou. 
Away, and let me dye.  Edg. 
Hadst thou been aught  
But Gozemore, Feathers, Air,  
(So many fathom down precipitating)  
thou'dst shivered like an Egg: but thou dost breath:  
Hast heavy substance, bleedest not, speakest, art sound,  
Ten Masts at each, make not the altitude  
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell,  
Thy life's a Miracle. Speak yet again.  Glou. 
But have I fall'n, or no?  Edg. 
From the dread Somnet of this Chalky Bourne  
Look up a height, the shrill-gorged Lark so fare  
Cannot be seen, or heard: Do but look up.  Glou. 
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.  Edg. 
Give me your arm.  
up, so: How is't? Feel you your Legs? You stand.  Glou. 
Too well, too well.  Edg. 
This is above all strangeness,  
Upon the crown o' th' Cliff. What thing was that  
Which parted from you?  Glou. 
A poor unfortunate Beggar.  Edg. 
As I stood here below, me thought his eyes  
Were two full Moons: he had a thousand Noses,  
Horns wealked, and waved like the enraged 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.  Glou. 
I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear  
Affliction, till it do cry out itself  
Enough, enough, and dye. 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 patiented thoughts.  Enter Lear. 
But who comes here?  
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate  
His Master thus.  Lear. 
No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the King himself.  Edg. 
O thou side-piercing sight!  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 Cloathiers' 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' th' clout, i' th' clout: Hewgh. Give the word.  Edg. 
Sweet Mariorum.  Lear. 
Pass.  Glou. 
I know that voice.  Lear. 
Ha! goneril with a white beard? They flattered me like a Dog, and told me I had the white hairs in my Beard, ere the black ones were there. To say I, and no, to every thing that I said: I, 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 smelled 'em out. Go too, they are not men o' their words; they told me, I was every thing: 'Tis a Lie, I am not Agu-proofe.  Glou. 
The trick of that voice, I do well remember:  
Is't not the King?  Lear 
I, 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 dye: die for Adultery?  
No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly  
Does lecher in my sight. Let Copulation thrive:  
For Glousters' bastard Son was kinder to his Father,  
Then my Daughters got between the lawful sheets.  
Too't Luxury pellmell, for I lack Soldiers.  
Behold yond simpering Dame, whose face between her Forks presages Snow; that minces Virtue, & does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name. The Fitchow, nor the soiled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite▪ Down from the waste 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 is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption: Fie, fie, fie; pah, pah: Give me an Ounce of Civet; good Apothecary sweeten my imagination: There's money for thee.  Glou. 
O let me kiss that hand.  Lear. 
Let me wipe it first,  
It smells of Mortality.  Glou. 
O ruined piece of Nature, this great world  
Shall so wear out to naught.  
Dost thou know me?  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.  Glou. 
Were all thy Letters Suns, I could not see.  Edg. 
I would not take this from report,  
It is, and my heart breaks at it.  Lear. 
Read.  Glou. 
What with the Case of eyes?  Lear. 
Oh 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.  Glou. 
I see it feelingly.  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?  Glou. 
I Sir.  Lear. 
And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou mightst behold the great image of Authority, a Dogg's obeyed in Office. Thou, Rascal Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy own back, thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind, for which thou whip'st her. The Usurer hangs the Cozener. Through tattered clothes great Vices do appear: Robes, and Furred gowns hide all. Place sins 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 th' accusers lips. Get thee glasse-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.  Edg. 
O matter, and impertinency mixed,  
Reason in Madness.  Lear. 
If thou wilt weep my Fortunes, take my eyes.  
I know thee well enough, thy name is Glouster:  
Thou must be patiented; we came crying hither:  
Thou knowst, the first time that we smell the Air  
We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Mark.  Glou. 
Alack, alack the day.  Lear. 
When we are borne, 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 puted in proof,  
And when I have stolen upon these Son in Laws,  
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.  Enter a Gentleman. Gent. 
Oh here he is: lay hand upon him, Sir▪  
Your most dear Daughter—  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 ' th' Brains.  Gent. 
You shall have any thing.  Lear. 
No Seconds? All myself?  
Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt  
To use his eyes for Garden water-pots. I will die bravely,  
Like a smug Bridegroom. What? I will be jovial:  
Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that?  Gent. 
You are a Royal one, and we obey you.  Lear. 
Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it,  
You shall get it by running: Sa, sa, sa, sa.  Exit. Gent. 
A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,  
Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast a Daughter  
Who redeems Nature from the general curse  
Which twain have brought her to.  Edg. 
Hail gentle Sir.  Gent. 
Sir, speed you: what's your will?  Edg. 
Do you hear aught (Sir) of a Battle toward.  Gent. 
Most sure, and vulgar:  
Every one hears that; which can distinguish sound.  Edg. 
But by your favour:  
How near's the other Army?  Gent. 
near, and on speedy foot: the main descry  
Stands on the hourly thought.  Edg. 
I thank you Sir, that's all.  Gent. 
Though that the Queen on special cause is here  
Her Army is moved on.  Exit. Edg. 
I thank you Sir.  Glou. 
You ever gentle Gods, take my breath from me,  
Let not my worse Spirit tempt me again  
To dye before you please.  Edg. 
Well pray you Father.  Glou. 
Now good sir, what are you?  Edg. 
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.  Glou. 
Heartie thankes:  
The bounty, and the benison of Heaven  
To boot, and boot.  Enter Steward. Stew. 
A proclaimed 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.  Glou. 
Now let thy friendly hand  
Put strength enough too't.  Stew. 
Wherefore, bold Peasant,  
Darest thou support a published Traitor? Hence,  
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take  
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.  Edg. 
I'll not let go Sir,  
Without further ' casion.  Stew. 
Let go Slave, or thou diest.  Edg. 
Good Gentleman go your gate, and let poor volke pass: and ' I'd ha' been zwaggerd out of my life, 'twould not ha'bin so long as 'tis, by a fortnight. Nay, come not near th' old man: keep out i vor'ye, or ice try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder; I'll be plain with you.  Stew. 
Out Dunghill.  Edg. 
I'll pick your teeth Sir: come, no matter vor your foins.  Stew. 
Slave thou hast slain me: Villain, take my purse;  
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body,  
And give the Letters which thou findest about me,  
To Edmund Earl of Glouster: seek him out  
Upon the English party. Oh untimely death, death.  Edg. 
I know thee well. A serviceable Villain,  
As duteous to the vices of thy Mistress,  
As badness would desire.  Glou. 
What, is he dead?  Edg. 
Sat 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 Deathsman. Let us see:  
Leave gentle wax, and manners: blame us not  
To know our enemy's minds, we rip their hearts,  
Their Papers is more lawful.  Reads the Letter. 
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 Gaol, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliver me, and supply the place for your Labour.  
Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate Servant. goneril.  
Oh indinguished 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-practiced Duke: for him 'tis well,  
That of thy death, and business, I can tell.  Glou. 
The King is mad:  
How stiff is my vild sense  
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling  
Of my huge Sorrows? Better I were distract,  
So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs,  Drum afar off. 
And woes, by wrong imaginations lose  
The knowledge of themselves.  Edg. 
Give me your hand:  
Fare off methinks I hear the beaten Drum.  
Come Father, I'll bestow you with a Friend.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Septima.  Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman. Cor. 
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 ore-paied,  
All my reports go with the modest truth,  
Nor more, nor clipped, but so.  Cor. 
Be better suited,  
These weeds are memories of those worse hours:  
I prithee put them off.  Kent. 
Pardon 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.  Cor. 
Then be't so my good Lord:  
How does the King?  Gent. 
Madam sleeps still.  Cor. 
O you kind Gods!  
Cure this great breach in his abused Nature,  
Th' untuned and jarring senses, O wind up,  
Of this childe-changed Father.  Gent. 
So please your Majesty,  
That we may wake the King, he hath slept long?  Cor. 
Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed  
I' th' sway of your own will: is he arrayed?  Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants Gent. 
I Madam: in the heaviness of sleep,  
We put fresh garments on him.  
Be by good Madam when we do awake him,  
I doubt of his Temperance.  Cor. 
O my dear Father, restauratian 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.  Cor. 
Had you not been their Father, these white flakes  
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face  
To be opposed against the jarring winds?  
Mine Enemy's dog, though he had bit me,  
Should have stood that night against my fire,  
And was't 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.  Gen. 
Madam do you, 'tis fittest.  Cor. 
How does my Royal Lord?  
How fares your Majesty?  Lear. 
You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave,  
Thou art a Soul in bliss, but I am bound  
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears  
Do scaled, like molten Lead.  Cor. 
Sir, do you know me?  Lear. 
You are a spirit I know, where did you dye?  Cor. 
Still, still, fare wide.  Gen. 
He's scarce awake,  
Let him alone a while.  Lear▪ 
Where have I been?  
Where am I? Fair day light?  
I am mightily abused; I should even dye 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.  Cor. 
O look upon me Sir,  
And hold your hand in benediction o'er me,  
You must not kneel.  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.  
Me thinks 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.  Cor. 
And so I am: I am.  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.  Cor. 
No cause, no cause.  Lear. 
Am I in France?  Kent. 
In your own kingdom Sir.  Lear. 
Do not abuse me.  Gent. 
Be comforted good Madam, the great rage  
You see is killed in him: desire him to go in,  
Trouble him no more till further settling.  Cor. 
Wilt please your Highness' walk?  Lear. 
You must bear with me:  
Pray you now forget, and forgive,  
I am old and foolish.  Exeunt   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Regan▪ Gentlemen, and Soldiers. Bast. 
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.  Reg. 
Our Sister's man is certainly miscarried.  Bast. 
'Tis to be doubted Madam.  Reg. 
Now sweet Lord,  
You know the goodness I intent upon you:  
Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth,  
Do you not love my Sister?  Bast. 
In honoured Love..  Reg. 
But have you never found my Brother's way,  
To the forefended place?  Bast. 
No by mine honour, Madam.  Reg. 
I never shall endure her, dear my Lord  
Be not familiar with her.  Bast. 
Fear not, she and the Duke her husband.  Enter with Drum and Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Soldiers. Alb. 
Our very loving Sister, well bemet:  
Sir, this I heard, the King is come to his Daughter  
With others, whom the rigour of our State  
Forced to cry out.  Regan. 
Why is this reasoned?  Gone. 
Combine together 'gainst the Enemy:  
For these domestic and particurlar broils,  
Are not the question here.  Alb. 
Let's then determine with th' ancient of war  
On our proceeding.  Reg. 
Sister you'll go with us?  Gon. 
No.  Reg. 
'Tis most convenient, pray go with us.  Gon. 
Oh ho, I know the Riddle, I will go.  Exeunt both the Armies. Enter Edgar. Edg. 
If ere your Grace had speech with man so poor,  
Hear me one word.  Alb. 
I'll overtake you, speak.  Edg. 
Before you fight the Battle, open 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's you.  Alb. 
Stay till I have read the Letter.  Edg. 
I was forbid it:  
When time shall serve, let but the Herald cry,  
And I'll appear again.  Exit. Alb. 
Why farethee well, I will o'erlook thy paper.  Enter Edmund. Bast. 
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.  Alb. 
We will greet the time.  Exit. Bast. 
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 enjoyed  
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, device  
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.  

Scena Secunda.  Alarm within. Enter with Drum and Colours, Lear, Cordelia, and Soldiers, over the Stage, and Exeunt. Enter Edgar, and Gloster. Edg. 
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.  Glo. 
Grace go with you Sir.  Exit. Alarm and Retreat within. Enter Edgar. Egdar. 
Away old man, give me thy hand, away:  
King Lear hath lost▪ he and his Daughter ta'en,  
Give me thy hand: Come on.  Glo. 
No further Sir, a man may rot even here.  Edg. 
What in ill thoughts again?  
Men must endure  
Their going hence, even as their coming hither,  
Ripeness is all come on.  Glo. 
And that's true too.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter in conquest with Drum and Colours, Edmund Lear, and Cordelia, as prisoner's, Soldiers, Captain. Bast. 
Some Officers take them away: good guard,  
Until their greater pleasures first be known  
That are to censure them.  Cor. 
We are not the first,  
Who with best meaning have incurred the worst:  
For thee oppressed King I am cast down,  
Myself could else out-frowne false Fortune's frown.  
Shall we not see these Daughters, and these Sisters?  Lear. 
No, no, no, no: come let's away to prison,  
We two alone will sing like Birds i' th' 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 here (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 walled prison, packs and sects of great ones,  
That ebb and flow by th' Moon.  Bast. 
Take them away.  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 starved first: come.  Exit. Bast. 
Come hither Captain, hark.  
Take thou this note, 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.  Capt. 
I'll do't my Lord.  Bast. 
About it, and write happy, when th' hast done,  
Mark I say instantly, and carry it so  
As I have set it down.  Exit Captain. Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Soldier's. Alb. 
Sir, you have showed to day your valiant strain  
And Fortune led you well: you have the Captives  
Who were the opposites of this day's strife:  
I do require them of you so to use them,  
As we shall find their merits, and our safety  
May equally determine.  Bast. 
Sir, I thought it fit,  
To send the old and miserable King to some retention,  
Whose age had Charms in it, whose Title more,  
To pluck the common bosom on his side,  
And turn our impressed 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, t'appear  
Where you shall hold your Session.  Alb. 
Sir, by your patience,  
I hold you but a subject of this War,  
Not as a Brother.  Reg. 
That's as we list to grace him.  
Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded  
E'er you had spoke so fare. He led our Powers,  
Bore the Commission of my place and person,  
The which immediacie may well stand up,  
And call itself your Brother.  Gon. 
Not so hot:  
In his own grace he doth exalt himself,  
More than in your addition.  Reg. 
In my rights,  
By me invested, he compeetes the best.  Alb. 
That were the most, if he should husband you.  Reg. 
jester's do oft prove Prophets.  Gon. 
Hola, hola,  
That eye that told you so, looked but a squint.  Rega. 
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 is thine:  
Witness the world, that I create thee here  
My Lord, and Master.  Gon. 
Mean you to enjoy him?  Alb. 
The let alone lies not in your good will.  Bast. 
Nor in thine Lord.  Alb. 
Halfe-blooded fellow, yes.  Reg. 
Let the Drum strike, and prove my title thine.  Alb. 
Stay yet, hear reason: Edmund, I arrest thee  
On capital Treason; and in thy arrest,  
This guilded Serpent: for your claim fair Sisters,  
I bore it in the interest of my wife,  
'Tis she is sub-contracted to this Lord,  
And I her husband contradict your banns.  
If you will marry, make your loves to me,  
My Lady is bespoke.  Gon. 
An interlude.  Alb. 
Thou art armed Gloster,  
Let the Trmpet sound:  
If none appear to prove upon thy person,  
Thy heinous, manifest, and many Treasons,  
There is my pledge: I'll make it on thy heart  
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less  
Than I have here proclaimed thee.  Reg. 
Sick, O sick.  Gon. 
If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine.  Bast. 
There's my exchange, what in the world lies  
That names me Traitor, villain-like he lies,  
Call by the Trumpet: he that dares approach;  
On him, on you, who not, I will maintain  
My truth and honour firmly.  Enter a Herald. Alb. 
A Herald, ho.  
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.  Alb. 
She is not well, convey her to my Tent.  
Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound,  
And read out this.  A Tumpet sounds. Herald reads. 
IF any man of quality or degree, within the lists of the Army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloster, that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence.  1 Trumpet. 2 Trumpet. 3 Trumpet. Trumpet answers within. Her. 
Again.  Her. 
Again.  Enter Edgar armed. Alb. 
Ask him his purposes, why he appears  
Upon this Call o' th' Trumpet.  Her. 
What are you?  
Your name, your quality, and why you answer  
This present Summons?  Edg. 
Know my name is lost  
By Treason's tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit,  
Yet am I Noble as the Adversary  
I come to cope.  Alb. 
Which is that Adversary?  Edg. 
What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloster?  Bast. 
Himself, what sayest thou to him?  Edg. 
Draw thy Sword,  
That if my speech offend a Noble heart,  
Thy arm may do thee justice, here is mine:  
Behold it is my privilege,  
The privilege of mine Honours,  
My oath, and my profession. I protest,  
Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,  
Despise 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 illustirous Prince,  
And from th' 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 bend  
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,  
Thou liest.  Bast. 
In wisdom I should ask thy name,  
But since thy outside looks so fair and Warlike,  
And that thy tongue (some say) of breeding breaths,  
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 scarely bruise,  
This Sword of mine shall give them instant way,  
Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets speak.  Alb. 
Save him, save him.  Alarms. Fights. Gon. 
This is practice Gloster,  
By th' law of War, thou wast not bound to answer  
An unknown opposite: thou art not vanquished,  
But cozened, and be gild.  Alb. 
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.  Gon. 
Say if I do, the Laws are mine not thine,  
Who can arraign me for't?  Exit. Alb. 
Most monstrous! O, knowst thou this paper?  Bast. 
Ask me not what I know.  Alb. 
Go after her, she's desperate, govern her.  Bast. 
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.  Edg. 
Let's exchange charity:  
I am no less in blood then thou art Edmond,  
If more, the more th' hast wronged 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.  Bast. 
The hast spoken right, 'tis true,  
The Wheel is come full circle, I am here.  Alb. 
Me thought thy very gate did prophesy  
A Royal Nobleness: I must embrace thee,  
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I  
Did hate thee, or thy Father.  Edg. 
Worthy Prince I know't.  Alb. 
Where have you hid yourself?  
How have you known the miseries of your Father?  Edg. 
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 followed me so near, (O our life's sweetness,  
That we the pain of death would hourly dye,  
Rather than die at once) taught me to shift  
Into a madman's rags, t'assume a semblance  
That very Dogs disdained: and in this habit  
Met I my Father with his bleeding Rings,  
Their precious Stones new lost: became his guide,  
Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair.  
Never (O fault) revealed myself unto him,  
Until some half hour past when I was armed,  
Not sure, though hoping of this good success,  
I asked his blessing, and from first to last  
Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawed heart  
(Alack too weak the conflict to support)  
Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,  
Burst smilingly.  Bast. 
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.  Alb. 
If there be more, more woeful, hold it in,  
For I am almost ready to dissolve,  
Hearing of this.  Enter a Gentleman. Gen. 
Help, help: O help.  Edg. 
What kind of help?  Alb. 
Speak man.  Edg. 
What means this bloody Knife?  Gen. 
'Tis hot, it smokes, it came even from the heart of— O she's dead.  Alb. 
Who dead? Speak man.  Gen. 
Your Lady Sir, your Lady; and her Sister  
By her is poisoned: she confesses it.  Bast. 
I was contracted to them both, all three  
Now marry in an instant.  Edg. 
Here comes Kent.  Enter Kent. Alb. 
Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead;  goneril and Regans bodies brought out. 
This judgement of the Heavens that makes us tremble.  
Touches us not with pity: 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?  Alb. 
Great thing of us forgot,  
Speak Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia?  
Seest thou this object Kent?  Kent. 
Alack, why thus?  Bast. 
Yet Edmund was beloved:  
The one the other poisoned for my sake,  
And after slew herself.  Alb. 
Even so: cover their faces.  Bast. 
I pant for life: some good I mean to do  
Despite of mine own Nature. Quickly send,  
(Be brief in it) to ' th' Castle, for my Writ  
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:  
Nay, send in time.  Alb. 
Run, run, O run.  Edg. 
To who my Lord? Who has the Office?  
Send thy token of reprieve.  Bast. 
Well thought on, take my Sword,  
Give it the Captain.  Edg. 
Hast thee for thy life.  Bast. 
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.  Alb. 
The Gods defend her, bear him hence awhile.  Enter Lear with Cordelia in his arms. Lear. 
howl, howl, howl: O your are men of stones,  
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd 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 missed or stain the stone,  
Why then she life's.  Kent. 
Is this the promised end?  Edg. 
Or image of that horror.  Alb. 
Fall and cease.  Lear. 
This feather stirs, she life's: if it be so,  
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows  
That ever I have felt.  Kent. 
O my good Master.  Lear. 
Prithee away.  Edg. 
'Tis Noble Kent your Friend.  Lear. 
A plague upon you Murderors, Traitors all,  
I might have saved her, now she's gone for ever:  
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha':  
What is't thou sayest? Her voice was ever soft,  
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.  
I killed the Slave that was a hanging thee.  Gent. 
'Tis true (my Lords) he did.  Lear. 
Did I not fellow?  
I have seen the day, with my good biting Falchion  
I would have made him skip: I am old now,  
And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?  
Mine eyes are not o' th' best, I'll tell you strait.  Kent. 
If Fortune brag of two, she loved and hated,  
One of them we behold.  Lear. 
This is a dull sight, are you not Kent?  Kent. 
The same: your Servant Kent,  
Where is your Servant Caius?  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.  Lear. 
I'll see that strait.  Kent. 
That from your first of difference and decay,  
Have followed your sad steps.  Lear. 
Your are welcome hither.  Kent. 
Nor no man else:  
All's cheerless, dark, and deadly,  
Your eldest Daughters have fore-done themselves,  
And desperately are dead  Lear. 
I so I think.  Alb. 
He knows not what he says, and vain is it  
That we present us to him.  Enter a Messenger. Edg. 
Very bootless.  Mess. 
Edmund is dead my Lord.  Alb. 
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, you to your rights,  
With boot, and such addition as your Honours  
Have more then merited. All Friends shall  
Taste the wages of their virtue, and all Foes  
The cup of their deservings: O see, see.  Lear. 
And my poor Fool is hanged: 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.  He dis. Edg. 
He faints, my Lord, my Lord.  Kent. 
Break heart, I prithee break.  Edg. 
Look up my Lord.  Kent. 
Vex not his ghost, O let him pass, he hates him,  
That would upon the wrack of this tough world  
Stretch him out longer.  Edg. 
He is gone indeed.  Kent. 
The wonder is, he hath endured so long,  
He but usurped his life.  Alb. 
Bear them from hence, our present business  
Is general woe: 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.  Edg. 
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.   
FINIS.   

THE TRAGEDY OF Othello, the Moor of Venice.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter Rodorigo, and jago. Rodorigo. 
Never tell me, I take it much unkindly  
That thou (jago) who hast had my purse,  
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.  ja. 
But you'll not hear me. If ever I did dream  
Of such a matter, abhor me.  Rodo. 
Thou told'st me,  
Thou didst hold him in thy hate.  jago. 
Despise me  
If I do not. Three Great-ones of the City,  
(In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant)  
Off-capt 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)  
Euades them, with a bombast Circumstance,  
Horribly stuffed with Epithets of war,  
Nonsuits my Mediators. For certes, says he,  
I have already chose my Officer. And what was he?  
Forsooth, a great Arithmatician,  
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,  
(A Fellow almost damned 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 Tongued Consuls can propose  
As Masterly as he. Mere prattle (without practice)  
Is all his Soldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election;  
And I (of whom his eyes had seen the proof  
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on others grounds  
Christened, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calmed  
By Debtor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster,  
He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be,  
And I (bless the mark) his Mooreships Ancient.  Rod. 
By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.  jago. 
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 ' th' first. Now Sir, be judge yourself,  
Whether I in any just term am Affined  
To love the Moor?  Rod. 
I would not follow him then.  jago. 
O Sir content you.  
I follow him, to serve my turn upon him.  
We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters  
Cannot be truly followed. 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 naught but Provender, & when he's old Cashiered.  
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are  
Who trymed 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 Rodorigo,  
Were I the Moor, I would not be jago:  
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.  Rod. 
What a fall Fortune does the Thicks-lips own  
If he can carry't thus?  jago. 
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 chances of vexation on't,  
As it may lose some colour.  Rodo. 
here is her Father's house, I'll call aloud.  jago. 
Do, with like timorous accent, and dire yell,  
As when (by Night and Negligence) the Fire  
Is spied in populus Cities.  Rodo. 
What hoa: Brabantio, Siginor Brabantio, hoa.  jago. 
Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Thiefs, Thiefs.  
Look to your house, your daughter, and your Bags,  
Thiefs, Thiefs.  Bra. 
Above. What is the reason of this terrible  
Summon●? What is the matter there?  Rodo. 
Signior is all your Family within?  jago. 
Are your Doors locked?  Bra. 
Why? Wherefore ask you this?  jago. 
Sir, ye are robbed, 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 tupping 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.  Bra. 
What, have you lost your wits?  Rod. 
Most reverend Signior, do you know my voice?  Bra. 
Not I: what are you?  Rod. 
My name is Rodorigo.  Bra. 
The worsser 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 distempring draughts)  
Upon malicious knavery, dost thou come  
To start my quiet.  Rod. 
Sir, Sir, Sir.  Bra. 
But thou must needs be sure,  
My spirits and my place have in their power  
To make this bitter to thee.  Rodo. 
Patience good Sir.  Bra. 
What tell'st thou me of Robbing?  
This is Venice: my house is not a Grange.  Rodo. 
Most grave Brabantio,  
In simple and pure soul, I come to you.  ja. 
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 Russians, you'll have your Daughter covered with a Barbary horse, you'll have your Nephew's neigh to you, you'll have Coursers for Cousins: and Gennets for Germans.  Bra. 
What profane wretch art thou?  ja. 
I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughter and the Moor, are making the Beast with two backs.  Bra. 
Thou art a Villain.  jago. 
You are a Senator.  Bra. 
This thou shalt answer. I know thee Rodorigo.  Rod. 
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' th' night  
Transported with no worse nor better guard,  
But with a knave of common hire, a Gundelier,  
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: strait satisfy yourself.  
If she be in her Chamber, or your house,  
Let lose on me the justice of the State  
For thus deluding you.  Bra. 
Strike on the Tinder, hoa:  
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. jag. 
Farewell: for I must leave you.  
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place  
To be producted, (as if I stay, I shall,)  
Against the Moor. For I do know the State,  
(How ever this may gall him with some check)  
Cannot with safety cast-him. For he's embarked  
With such loud reason to the Cyprus Wars,  
(Which even now stands 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 apines,  
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  
Led to the Sagitary the raised Search:  
And there will I be with him. So farewell.  Exit. Enter Brabantio, with Servants and Torches. Bra. 
It is too true an evil. Gone she is,  
And what's to come of my despised time,  
Is naught but bitterness. Now Rodorigo,  
Where didst thou see her? (Oh unhappy Girl)  
With the Moor sayest thou? (Who would be a Father?)  
How didst thou know 'twas she? (Oh she deceives me  
Past thought:) what said she to you? Get more Tapers▪  
Raise all my Kindred. Are they married think you?  Rodo. 
Truly I thinke they are.  Bra. 
Oh Hea●n: how got she out?  
Oh treason of the blood.  
Fathers, from hence trust not your Daughter's 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 Rodorigo,  
Of some such thing?  Rod. 
Yes Sir: I have indeed.  Bra. 
Call up my Brother: oh would you had had her.  
Some one way, some another. Do you know  
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moor?  Rod. 
I think I can discover him, if you please  
To get good Guard, and go along with me.  Bra. 
Pray you lead on. At every house I'll call,  
(I may command at most) get Weapons (hoa)  
And raise some special Officers of might:  
On good Rodorigo, I will deserve your pains.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torch's. ja. 
Though in the trade of War I have slain men,  
Yet do I hold it very stuff o' th' conscience  
To do no contrived Murder: I lack Iniquity  
Sometime to do me service. Nine, or ten times  
I had thought t'have yerked him here under the Ribs.  Othello. 
'Tis better as it is.  jago. 
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 Dukes: He will divorce you.  
Or put upon you, what restraint or grievance,  
The Law (with all his might, to enforce it on)  
Will give him Cable.  Othel. 
Let him do his spite;  
My Services, which I have done the Signory  
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 (unbonnetted) to as proud a Fortune  
As this that I have reached. For know jago,  
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,  
I would not my unhoused free condition  
Put into Circumscription, and Confine,  
For the Seas worth. But look, what Lights come yond?  Enter Cassio, with Torch's. jago. 
Those are the raised Father, and his Friends:  
You were best go in.  Othel. 
Not I: I must be found.  
My Parts, my Title, and my perfect Soul  
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?  jago. 
By janus, I think no.  Othel. 
The Servants of the Dukes?  
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,  
Enen 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 Dukes already. You have been hotly called for,  
When being not at your Lodging to be found,  
The Senate hath sent about three several Quests,  
To search you out.  Othel. 
'Tis well I am found by you:  
I will but spend a word here in the house,  
And go with you.  Cassio. 
Aunciant, what makes he here?  jago. 
Faith, he to night hath boarded a Land Carack,  
If it prove lawful prize, he ' made for ever.  Cassio. 
I do not understand.  jago. 
He's married.  Cassio. 
To who?  jago. 
Marry to— Come Captain, will you go?  Othel. 
Have with you.  Cassio. 
Here comes another Troop to seek for you.  Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers, and Torch's. jago. 
It is Brabantio: General be advised,  
He comes to bad intent.  Othello. 
Holla, stand there.  Rodo: 
Signior, it is the Moor.  Bra. 
down with him, Thief.  jago. 
You, Rodorigoc? Cme Sir, I am for you.  Oath. 
Keep up your bright Swords, for the dew will rust them. Good Signior, you shall more command with years, then with your Weapons.  Bra. 
Oh thou foul Thief,  
Where hast thou stowed my Daughter?  
Damned 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 Darling of our Nation,  
Would ever have (t'encurre a general mock)  
Run from her Guard age 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 weakens 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.  Oath. 
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. Whether will you that I go  
To answer this your charge?  Bra. 
To Prison, till fit time  
Of Law, and course of direct Session  
Call thee to answer.  Oath. 
What if 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.  Officer. 
'Tis true most worthy Signior,  
The Dukes in Counsel, and your Noble self,  
I am sure is sent for.  Bra. 
How? The Duke in Counsel?  
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,  
Bondslaves, and Pagans shall our Statesmen be.  Exeunt  

Scaena Tertia.  Enter Duke, Senator's, and Officers. Duke. 
There's no composition in this News,  
That gives them Credit.  1. Sen. 
Indeed, they are disproportioned;  
My Letters say, a Hundred and seven Galleys.  Duke. 
And mine a Hundred forty.  2. Sena. 
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. 
Nay, it is possible enough to judgement:  
I do not so secure me in the Error,  
But the main Article I do approve  
In fearful sense.  Sailor within. 
What hoa, what hoa, what hoa.  Enter Saylor. Officer. 
A Messenger from the Galleys.  Duke. 
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. 
How say you by this change?  1. Sen. 
This cannot be  
By no assay of reason. 'Tis a Pageant  
To keep us in false gaze, when we consider  
Th' importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;  
And let ourselves again but understand,  
That as it more concerns the Turk then Rhodes,  
So may he, with more facile question bear it,  
For that it stands not in such Warlike brace,  
But altogether lacks th' abilities  
The Rhodes is dressed 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. 
Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes.  Officer. 
Here is more News.  Enter a Messenger. Messen. 
The Ottamites, Reuerened, and Gracious,  
Steering with due course toward the I'll of Rhodes,  
Have there injointed them with an after Fleet.  1. Sen. 
I, so I thought: how many, as you guess?  Mess. 
Of thirty Sail: and now they do re-stem  
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. 
'Tis certain then for Cyprus:  
Marcus Luccico, is not he in Town?  1. Sen. 
He's now in Florence.  Duke. 
Writ from us,  
To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch.  1. Sen. 
Here comes Brabantio, and the Valiant Moor.  Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers. Duke. 
Valiant Othello, we must strait employ you,  
Against the general Enemy Ottoman.  
I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior,  
We lacked your Counsel, and your help to night.  Bra. 
So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me.  
Neither my place, hor ought 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 floodgate, and ore-bearing Nature,  
That it engluts, and swallows other sorrows,  
And it is still itself.  Duke. 
Why? What's the matter?  Bra. 
My Daughter: oh my Daughter!  Sen. 
Dead?  Bra. 
I, to me.  
She is abused, stolen 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. 
Who ere 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.  Bra. 
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.  All. 
We are very sorry for't.  Duke. 
What in your own part, can you say to this?  Bra. 
Nothing, but this is so.  Oath. 
Most Potent, Grave, and Reuerened 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 blessed with the soft phrase of Peace;  
For since these Arms of mine, had seven year's 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 Broils, and Battle,  
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,  
In speaking for myself. Yet, (by your gracious patience)  
I will a round vn-varnished ● 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.  Bra. 
A Maiden, never bold:  
Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion  
Blushed at herself, and she, in spite of Nature,  
Of Years, of Country, Credit, every thing  
To fall in Love, with what she feared to look on;  
It is a judgement maimed, and most imperfect.  
That will confess Perfection so could err  
Against all rules of Nature, and must be driven  
To find out practices 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 wtought up on her.  
To vouch this, is no proof,  
Without more wider, and more over Test  
Then these thin habits, and poor likelihoods  
Of modern seeming, do prefer against him.  Sen. 
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?  Othel. 
I do beseech you,  
Send for the Lady to the Sagitary.  
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. 
Fetch Desdemona hither.  Oath. 
Aunciant, conduct them:  
You best know the place.  
And tell 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. 
Say it Othello.  Oath. 
Her Father loved me, oft invited me:  
Still questioned me the Story of my life,  
From year to year: the Battle, Sieges, Fortune,  
That I have passed.  
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,  
To th' very moment that he bade me tell it.  
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:  
Of moving Accidents by Flood and Field,  
Of haire-breadth escapes i' th' imminent deadly breach;  
Of being taken by the Insolent Foe,  
And sold to slavery. Of my redemption thence,  
And portance in my Travellours history.  
Wherein of Antars' vast, and Deserts idle,  
Rough Quarries, Rocks, Hills, whose head touch heaven,  
It was my hint to speak. Such was my Process,  
And of the Cannibals that each others eat,  
The Antropophague, and men whose heads  
Grew beneath their shoulders. These things to hear,  
Would Desdemona seriously incline:  
But still the house Affaires would draw her hence:  
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,  
She'led 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 instinctively: I did consent,  
And often did beguile her of her tears,  
When I did speak of some distressful stroke  
That my youth suffered: My Story being done,  
She gave me for my pains a world of kisses:  
She swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange,  
'Twas pitiful: 'twas wondrous pitiful.  
She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished  
That Heaven had made her such a man. She thanked 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 spoke,  
She loved me for the dangers I had passed,  
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, Attendants. Duke. 
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,  
Then their bare hands.  Bra. 
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 own obedience?  Des. 
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 showed  
To you, preferring you before her Father:  
So much I challenge, that I may profess  
Due to the Moor my Lord.  Bra. 
God be with you: I have done.  
Please it your Grace, on to the State Affairs;  
I had rather to adopt a Child, then 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. 
Let me speak like yourself:  
And lay a Sentence,  
Which as a grise, or step may help these Lovers.  
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 preserned, when Fortune takes:  
Patience, her Injury a mock'ry makes.  
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the Thief,  
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.  Bra. 
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 ears.  
I humbly beseech you proceed to th' Affairs of State.  Duke. 
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 more 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.  Oath. 
The Tyrant Custom, most Grave Senators,  
Hath made the flinty and Steel Coach of War  
My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize  
A Natural and prompt Alacartie,  
I find in hardness: and do undertake  
This present Wars against the Ottamites.  
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. 
Why at her Fathers?  Bra. 
I will not have it so.  Oath. 
Nor I.  Des. 
Nor would I there reside,  
To put my Father in impatient thoughts  
By being in his eye. Most Grcaious Duke,  
To my unfolding, lend your prosperous ear,  
And let me find a Charter in your voice  
T'assist my simpleness.  Duke. 
What would you Desdemona?  Des. 
That I 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 Honours 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 why I love him, are bereft me:  
And I a heavy interim shall support  
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.  Oath. 
Let her have your voice.  
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 my 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  
When she is with me. No, when light winged Toys  
Of feathered Cupid, seal with wanton dulness  
My speculative, and officed Instrument:  
That my Disports corrupt, and taint my business:  
Let Housewives make a Skillet of my Helm,  
And all indigne, and base adversities,  
Make head against my Estimation.  Duke. 
Be it as you shall privately determine,  
Either for her stay, or going: th' Affair cries haste:  
And speed must answer it.  Sen. 
You must away to night.  Oath. 
With all my heart.  Duke. 
At nine i' th' morning, here we'll meet again.  
Othello, leave some Officer behind  
And he shall our Commission bring to you:  
And such things else of quality and respect  
As doth import you.  Oath. 
So please your Grace, my Ancient,  
A man he is of honesty and trust:  
To his conveyance I assign my wife,  
With what else needful, your good Grace shall think  
To be sent after me.  Duke. 
Let it be so:  
Good night to every one. And Noble Signior,  
If Virtue no delighted Beauty lack,  
Your Son-in-law is fare more Fair than Black.  Sen. 
Adieu brave Moor, use Desdemona well.  Bra. 
Look to her (Moor) if thou hast eyes to see:  
She has deceived her Father, and may thee.  Exit. Oath. 
My life upon her faith. Honest jago,  
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 matter, and direction  
To spend with thee. We must obey the the time.  Exit. Rod. 
jago.  jago. 
What sayest thou Noble heart?  Rod. 
What will I do, thinkest thou?  jago. 
Why go to bed and sleep.  Rod. 
I will incontinently drown myself.  jago. 
If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why thou silly Gentleman?  Rod. 
It is silliness to live, when to live is torment: and then have we a prescription to dye, when death is our Physician.  jago. 
Oh 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 Gynney Hen, I would change my Humanity with a Baboon.  Rod. 
What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.  jago. 
Virtue? A fig, 'tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which, our Wills are gardiner's. So that if we will plant Nettles, or sow Lettuce: Set Hisope, and weed up Time▪ 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 Corrigeable authority of this lies in our Wills. If the brain 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, or unbitted Lusts: whereof I take this, that you call Love, to be a Sect, or Seyen.  Rod. 
It cannot be.  jago. 
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 steed thee then 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 long that Desdemona should continue her love to the Moor. Put Money in thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement in her, 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, shallbe to him shortly, as bitter as Coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way then drowning. Make all the Money thou canst: If Sanctimony, and a frail vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be 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, then to be drowned, and go without her.  Rodo. 
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?  jago. 
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 coniunctive 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 willbe delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy Money. We will have more of this to morrow. Adieu.  Rod. 
Where shall we meet i' th' morning?  jago. 
At my Lodging.  Rod. 
I'll be with thee betimes.  jago. 
Go too, farewell. Do you hear Rodorigo?  Rod. 
I'll sell all my Land.  Exit. jago. 
Thus do I ever make my Fool, my purse:  
For I mine own gained knowledge should profane  
If I would time expend with such Snpe,  
But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moor,  
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets  
She 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 ears,  
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 lead by ' th' Nose  
As Asses are:  
I have't: it is engendered: Hell, and Night,  
Must bring this monstrous Birth, to the world's light.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen. Mon. 
What from the Cape, can you discern at Sea?  1. Gent. 
Nothing at all, it is a high wrought Flood:  
I cannot 'twixt the Heaven, and the main,  
Descry a Sail.  Mon. 
Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land,  
A fuller blast ne'er shaken our Battlements:  
If it hath ruffiand so upon the Sea,  
What ribs of Oak, when Mountains melt on them,  
Can hold the Morties. What shall we hear of this?  2 
A Segregation of the Turkish Fleet:  
For do but stand upon the Foaming Shore,  
The chidden Billow seems to pelt the Clouds,  
The winde-shak'd-Surge, with high & monstrous Maine  
Seems to cast water on the burning Bear,  
And quench the Guards of th' ever-fixed Pole:  
I never did like molestation view  
On the enchafed Flood.  Mon. 
If that the Turkish Fleet  
Be not ensheltered, and embayed, they are drowned,  
It is impossible to bear it out.  Enter a Gentleman. 3 
News Lads: our wars are done:  
The desperate Tempest hath so banged the Turks,  
That their designment halts. A Noble ship of Venice,  
Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance  
On most part of their Fleet.  Mon. 
How? Is this true?  3 
The Ship is here put in: A Verennessa, 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.  Mon. 
I am glad on't:  
'Tis a worthy Governor.  3 
But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort,  
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,  
And pray the Moor be safe; for they were ●ted  
With fowl and violent Tempest.  Mon. 
Pray Heavens he be:  
For I have served him, and the man commands  
Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Seaside (hoa)  
As well to see the Vessel that's come in,  
As to throwout our eyes for brave Othello,  
Even till we make the main, and th' Eriall blue,  
An indistinct regard.  Gent. 
Come, let's do so;  
For every Minute is expectancy  
Of more Arrivancie.  Enter Cassio. Cassi. 
Thanks you, the valiant of the warlike Isle,  
That so approve the Moor: Oh let the Heavens  
Give him defence against the Elements,  
For I have lost him on a dangerous Sea.  Mon. 
Is he well shipped?  Cassio. 
His Bark is stoutly Timbered, and his Pilot  
Of very expert, and approved Allowance;  
Therefore my hope's (not surfeited to death)  
Stand in bold Cure.  Within. 
A Sail, a Sail, a Sail.  Cassio. 
What noise?  Gent. 
The Town is empty; on the brow o' th' Sea  
Stand ranks of People, and they cry, a Sail.  Cassio. 
My hopes do shape him for the Governor.  Gent. 
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.  Gent. 
I shall.  Exit. Mon. 
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 th' essential Vesture of Creation,  
Does tire the Ingeniver.  Enter Gentleman. 
How now? Who has put in?  Gent. 
'Tis one jago, Ancient to the General.  Cassio. 
ha's had most favourable, and happy speed:  
Tempests themselves, high Seas, and howling winds,  
The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands,  
Traitors insteeped, to enclogge the guiltless Keel,  
As having sense of Beauty, do omit  
Their mortal Natures, letting go safely by  
The Divine Desdemona.  Mon. 
What is she?  Cassio. 
She that I spoke of:  
Our great Captain's Captain,  
Left in the conduct of the bold jago,  
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,  
A Senights' 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 loves quick pants in Desdemonaes' Arms,  
Give renewed fire to our extincted Spirits.  Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia. 
Oh behold,  
The Riches of the Ship is come on shore:  
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.  
Hail to thee Lady: and the grace of Heaven,  
Before, behind thee, and on every hand  
Enwheele thee round.  Des. 
I thank you, Valiant Cassio,  
What tidings can you tell of my Lord?  Cas. 
He is not yet arrived, nor know I ought  
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.  Des. 
Oh, but I fear:  
How lost you company?  Cassio. 
The great Contention of Sea, and Skies  
Parted our fellowship. But hark, a Sail.  Within. 
A Sail, a Sail.  Gent. 
They give this greeting to the Citadel:  
This likewise is a Friend.  Cassio. 
See for the News:  
Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome Mistress:  
Let it not gall your patience (good jago)  
That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my breeding,  
That gives me this bold show of Courtesy.  jago. 
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips,  
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,  
You would have enough.  Des. 
Alas: she has no speech.  jago. 
Infaith too much:  
I find it still, when I have leave to sleep.  
Marry before your Ladyship, I grant,  
She puts haet tongue a little in her heart,  
And chides with thinking.  Aemil. 
You have little cause to say so.  jago. 
Come on, come on: you are Pictures out of door: Bells in your Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens: Saints in your Injuries: Devils being offended: Players in your Housewifry, and Huswives in your Beds.  Des. 
Oh, fie upon thee, Slanderer.  jago. 
Nay, it is true: or else I am a Turk,  
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.  Aemil. 
You shall not write my praise.  jago. 
No, let me not.  Desde. 
What wouldst write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?  jago. 
Oh, gentle Lady, do not put me too't,  
For I am nothing, if not Critical.  Des. 
Come on, assay.  
There's one gone to the Harbour?  jago. 
I Madam.  Des. 
I am not merry: but I do beguile  
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.  
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?  jago. 
I am about it, but indeed my invention comes from my pate, as Birdlime does from Frieze, it plucks out Brains and all. But my Muse labours, and thus she is delivered.  
If she be fair, and wise: fairness, and wit,  
The one's for use, the other useth it.  Des. 
Well praised:  
How if she be Black and Witty?  jago. 
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,  
She'll find a white, that shall her blackness fit.  Des. 
Worse, and worse.  Aemil. 
How if Fair, and Foolish?  jago. 
She never yet was foolish that was fair,  
For even her folly helped her to an heir.  Desde. 
These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fools laugh i' th' Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's Fowl, and Foolish.  jago. 
There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,  
But does foul pranks, which fair, and wise-ones do.  Desde. 
Oh heavy ignorance: thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself.  jago. 
She that was ever fair, and never proud,  
Had Tongue at will, and yet was never loud:  
Never lacked Gold, and yet went never gay,  
Fled from her wish, and yet said now I may.  
She that being angered, her revenge being nigh,  
Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly:  
She that in wisdom never was so frail,  
To change the Codshead 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 wights were)  Des. 
To do what?  jago. 
To suckle Fools, and chronicle small Beer.  Desde. 
Oh most lame and impotent conclusion. Do not learn of him Aemillia, 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, then in the Scholar.  jago. 
He takes her by the palm: I, well said, whisper. With as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a Fly as Cassio. I smile upon her, do: I will give thee in thine own Courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed. If such tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenantrie, 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, and excellent Curtsy: 'tis so indeed. Yet again, your fingers to your lips? Would they were Cluster-pipes for your sake.  
The Moor I know his Trumpet.  Cassio, 
'Tis truly so.  Des. 
Let's meet him, and receive him.  Cassio. 
Lo, where he comes.  Enter Othello, and Attendants. Oth. 
O, my fair Warrior.  Des. 
My dear Othello.  Oath. 
It gives me wonder great, as my content  
To see you here before me.  
Oh my Souls joy:  
If after every Tempest, come such Calms,  
May the winds blow, till they have wakened 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 dye,  
'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.  Des. 
The heaven's forbid  
But that our Loves  
And Comforts should increase  
Even as our days do grow.  Oath. 
Amen to rhat (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  
That ere our hearts shall make.  jago. 
Oh you are well tuned now: But I'll set down the pegs that make this Music, as honest as I am.  Oath. 
Come: let us to the Castle.  
News (Friends) our Wars are done:  
The Turks are drowned.  
How does my old Acquaintance of this Isle?  
(Honey) you shall be well desired in Cyprus,  
I have round great love amongst them. Oh my Sweet,  
I prattle out of fashion, and I do eaten  
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good jago,  
Go to the Bay, and disimbarke 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.  Exit Othello and Desdemona. jago. 
Do thou meet me presently at the Harbour. Come thither, if thou beest Valiant, (as they say base men being in Love, have then a Nobility in their Natures, more than is native to them) lift-me; the Lieutenant to night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell thee this: Desdemona, is directly in love with him.  Rod. 
With him? Why, 'tis not possible.  jago. 
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. To 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 a game 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 Conueniences, 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 Forune, as Cassio does: a knave very voluble: no further conscionable, then in putting on the mere form of Civil, and humane seeming, for the better compass of his salt, and most hidden lose Affection? Why none, why none: A slipper, and subtle knave, a finder of occasion: that he's 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.  Rodo. 
I cannot believe that in her, she's full of most blessed condition.  jago. 
Blessed figges-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?  Rod. 
Yes, that I did: but that was but courtesy.  jago. 
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. Villainous thoughts Rodorigo, when these mutabilities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the Master, and main exercise, th' 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 fare 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.  Rod. 
Well.  jago. 
Sir, he's rash, and very sudden in Choler: and happily 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 displan●ng 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.  Rodo. 
I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.  jago. 
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the Citadel. I must fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell.  Rodo. 
Adieu.  Exit. jago. 
That Cassio love's her, I do well believe't:  
That she love's him, 'tis apt, and of great Credit.  
The Moor (how be it 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 leaped 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 eeuened with him, wife, for wift.  
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor,  
At least into a jelouzie so strong  
That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,  
If this poor Trash of Venice, whom I trace  
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,  
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,  
Abuse him to the Moor, in the right garb  
(For I fear Cassio with my Night-Cape too)  
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,  
Fo● making him egregiously an Ass,  
And practising upon his peace, and quiet,  
Even to madness. 'Tis here: but yet confused,  
Knaveries plain face, is never seen, till used.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Othello's, Herald with a Proclamation. 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 addition 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, & there is full liberty of Feasting from this present hour of five, till the Bell have told eleven. Bless the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble General Othello.  Exit. Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants. Oath. 
Good Michael, look you to the guard to night.  
Let's teach ourselves that Honourable stop,  
Not to out-sport discretion.  Cas. 
Iago, hath direction what to do.  
But notwithstanding with my personal eye  
Will I look to't.  Oath. 
Iago, is most honest:  
Michael, good-night. To morrow with your earliest,  
Let me have speech with you. Come my dear Love,  
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue,  
That profit yet to come between me, and you.  
Good-night.  Exit. Enter Iago. Cas. 
Welcome jago: we must to the Watch.  jago. 
Not this hour Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o' th' 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.  Cas. 
She's a most exquisite Lady.  jago. 
And I'll warrant her, full of Game.  Cas. 
Indeed she's a most fresh and delicate creature.  jago. 
What an eye she has?  
Methinks it sounds a parley to provocation.  Cas. 
An inviting eye:  
And yet me thinks right modest.  jago. 
And when she speaks,  
Is it not an Alarm to Love?  Cas. 
She is indeed perfection.  jago. 
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.  Cas. 
Not to night, good jago, I have very poor, and unhappy Brains for drinking. I could well wish Courtesy would invent some other Custom of entertainment.  jago. 
Oh, 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 inovation it makes here. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.  jago. 
What man? 'Tis a night of Revels, the Gallants desire it.  Cas. 
Where are they?  jago. 
here, at the door: I pray you call them in.  Cas. 
I'll do't, but it dislikes me.  Exit. jago. 
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 Rodorigo,  
Whom Love hath turned almost the wrong side out,  
To Desdemona hath to night Carrowsed.  
Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch.  
Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirits,  
(That hold their Honours in a wary distance,  
The very Elements of this Warlike Isle)  
Have I to night flustered with flowing Cups,  
And they Watch too.  
Now 'mongst this Flock of drunkards  
Am I put to our Cassio in some Action  
That may offend the Isle. But here they come.  Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen. 
If Consequence do but approve my dream,  
My Boat sails freely, both with wind and Stream.  Cas. 
'Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse already.  Mon. 
Goodfaith a little one: not past a pint, as I am a Soldier.  jago. 
Some Wine hoa.  
And let me the Cannakin clink, clink:  
And let me the Cannakin clink.  
A Soldiers a man: Oh, man's life's but a span,  
Why then let a Soldier drink.  
Some Wine Boys.  Cas. 
'Fore Heaven: an excellent Song.  jago. 
I learned it in England: where indeed they are most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your german, and your swag-bellyed Hollander, (drink hoa) are nothing to your English.  Cassio. 
Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?  jago. 
Why, he drinks you with facility, your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrew your Almain. He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next Pottle can be filled.  Cas. 
To the health of our General.  Mon. 
I am for it Lieutenant: and I'll do you justice.  jago. 
Oh sweet England.  
King Stephen was and worthy Peer,  
His Breeches cost him but a Crown,  
He held them Six pence all to dear,  
With that he called the Tailor Lowne:  
He was a wight of high Renown,  
And thou art but of low degree:  
'Tis Pride that pulls the Country down,  
And take thy awled Cloak about thee.  
Some Wine hoa.  Cassio. 
Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other.  jago. 
Will you hear't again?  Cas. 
No: for I hold him to be unworthy of his Place, that does those things. Well: heavens above all: and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.  jago. 
It's true, good Lieutenant.  Cas. 
For mine own part, no offence to the General, nor any man of quality: I hope to be saved.  jago. 
And so do I too Lieutenant.  Cassio. 
I: (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 I speak well enough.  Gent. 
Excellent well.  Cas. 
Why very well then: you must not think then, that I am drunk.  Exit. Monta. 
To th' Platform (Masters) come, let's set the Watch.  jago. 
You see this Fellow, that is gone before,  
He's 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 th' other. 'Tis pity of him:  
I fear the trust Othello puts him in,  
On some odd time of his infirmity  
Will shake this Island.  Mont. 
But is he often thus?  jago. 
'Tis evermore his prologue to his sleep,  
He'll watch the Horologe a double Set,  
If Drink rock not his Cradle.  Mont. 
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 Rodorigo. jago. 
How now Rodorigo?  
I pray you after the Lieutenant, go.  Mon. 
And 'tis great pity, that the Noble Moor  
Should hazard such a Place, as his own Second  
With one of an engraft Infirmity,  
It were an honest Action, to say so  
To the Moor.  jago. 
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?  Enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo. Cas. 
You Rogue: you Rascal.  Mon. 
What's the matter Lieutenant?  Cas. 
A Knave teach me my duty? I'll beat the  
Knave into a Twiggen-Bottle.  Rod. 
Beat me?  Cas. 
Dost thou prate, Rogue?  Mon. 
Nay, good Lieutenant:  
I pray you Sir, hold your hand.  Cassio. 
Let me go (Sir)  
Or I'll knock you o'er the Mazzard.  Mon. 
Come, come: you're drunk.  Cassio. 
Drunk?  jago. 
Away I say: go out and cry a Mutiny.  
Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen:  
Help hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:  
Help Masters. here's a goodly Watch indeed.  
Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa:  
The Town will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant,  
You'll be ashamed for ever.  Enter Othello, and Attendants. Oath. 
What is the matter here?  Mon. 
I bleed still, I am hurt to th' death. He dies.  Oath. 
Hold for your lives.  jag. 
Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen:  
Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?  
Hold. The General speaks to you: hold for shame.  Oth. 
Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this?  
Are we turned Turks? and to ourselves do that  
Which Heaven hath forbid the Ottamittes.  
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 jago that looks dead with grieving,  
Speak: who began this? On thy love I charge thee?  jago. 
I do not know: Friends all, but now, even now.  
In Quarter, and in terms like Bride, and Groom  
Divesting them for Bed: and then, but now:  
(As if some Planet had unwitted men)  
Swords out, and tilting one at others breasts,  
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.  Oath. 
How comes it (Michael) you are thus forgot?  C● 
I pray you pardon me, I cannot speak.  Oath. 
Worthy Montano, you were wont to 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.  Mon. 
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,  
Your Officer jago, can inform you,  
While I spare speech which something now offends me.  
Of all that I do know, nor know I ought  
By me, that's said, or done amiss this night,  
Unless selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice,  
And to defend ourselves, it be a sin  
When violence assails us.  Oath. 
Now by Heaven,  
My blood gins my safer Guides to rule,  
And passion (having my best judgement 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 twinned 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: jago, who beganed?  Mon. 
If partially Affined, or league in office,  
Thou dost deliver more, or less than Truth.  
Thou art no Soldier.  jago. 
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. This 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 returned then 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.  Oath. 
I know jago  
Thy honesty, and love doth mince this matter,  
Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I love thee,  
But never more be Officer of mine.  Enter Desdemona attended. 
Look if my gentle Love be not raised up:  
I'll make thee an example.  Des. 
What is the matter (Deer?)  Oath. 
All's well, Sweeting:  
Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,  
Myself will be your Surgeon. Led him off:  
jago, look with care about the Town,  
And silence those whom this vild brawl distracted.  
Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldier's life,  
To have their Balmy slumbers waked with strife.  Exit. jago. 
What are you hurt Lieutenant?  Cas. 
I, past all Surgery.  jago. 
Marry Heaven forbid.  Cas. 
Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I have lost my Reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My Reputation, jago, my Reputation.  jago. 
As I am an honest man I had thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that then 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 more ways to recover the General again. You are but now cast in his mood, (a punishment more in policy, then in malice) even so as one would beat his offenceless dog, ro affright an Imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he's yours.  Cas. 
I will rather sue to be despised, then 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 ones own shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of Wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee Devil.  jago. 
What was he that you followed with your Sword? What had he done to you?  Cas. 
I know not.  jago. 
Is't possible?  Cas. 
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly: a Quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, 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.  jago. 
Why? But you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?  Cas. 
It hath pleased the devil drunkenness, to give place to the devil wrath, one vnpe●fectnesse, shows me another to make me frankly despise myself.  jago. 
Come, you are too seuere a Moraller. As the Time, the Place, & 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.  Cas. 
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. Oh strange! Every inordinate cup is vnblessed, and the Ingredient is a devil.  jago. 
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?  jago. 
You, or any man living, may be drunk at a time man. I tell you what you shall do: Our General's Wife, is now the General. I may say so, in this respect, for that he hath devoted, and given up himself to the Contemplation, mark: and devotement 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 advice me well.  jago. 
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 check me.  jago. 
You are in the right: good night Lieutenant, I must to the Watch.  Cassio. 
Good night, honest jago.  Exit Cassio. jago. 
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  
Th' 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 to renounce his Baptism,  
All Seals, and Simbols of redeemed sin:  
His Soul is so enfettered 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 Fortune,  
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 en-mash them all.  
How now Rodorigo?  Enter Rodorigo. Rodorigo. 
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.  jago. 
How poor are they that have not Patience?  
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?  
Thou knowst we work by Wit, and not by Witchcraft  
And Wit depends on dilatory time:  
Dost not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,  
And thou by that small hurt hath cashiered Cassio:  
Though other things grow fair against the Sun,  
Yet Fruits that blossom first, will first be ripe:  
Content thyself, awhile. Introth 'tis Morning;  
Pleasure, and Action, make the hours seem short.  
Retire thee, go where thou art Billeted:  
A way, I say, thou shalt know more hereafter:  
Nay get thee gone.  Exit Rodorigo. 
Two things are to be done:  
My Wife must move for Cassio to her Mistress:  
I'll set her on myself, a while, to draw the Moor apart,  
And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find  
Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way:  
Dull not Device, by coldness, and delay.  Exit.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Cassio, Musicians, and Clown. Cassio. 
Masters, play here, I will content your pains,  
Something that's brief: and bid, good-morrow General.  Clo. 
Why Masters, have your Instruments been in Naples, that they speak i' th' Nose thus?  Mus. 
How Sir? how?  Clo. 
Are these I pray you, winde Instruments?  Mus. 
I marry are they sir.  Clo. 
Oh, thereby hangs a tale.  Mus. 
Whereby hangs a tale, sir?  Clow. 
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.  Mus. 
Well Sir, we will not.  Clo. 
If you have any Music that may not be heard, too't again. But (as they say) to hear Music, the General does not greatly care.  Mus. 
We have none such, sir.  Clow. 
Then put up your Pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go, vanish into air, away.  Exit Mu. Cassio 
Dost thou hear me, mine honest Friend?  Clo. 
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 be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of Speech. Wilt thou do this?  Clo. 
She is stirring sir: if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her.  Exit Clo. Enter. jago. 
In happy time, jago.  jago. 
You have not been a-bed then?  Cassio. 
Why no: the day had broke before we parted.  
I have made bold (jago) to send in to your wife:  
My suit to her is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona  
Procure me some access.  jago. 
I'll send her to you presently:  
And I'll device a mean to draw the Moor  
Out of the way, that your converse and business  
May be more free.  Exit Cassio. 
I humbly thank you for't. I never knew  
A Flo●ntine more kind, and honest.  Enter Aemilia. Aemil. 
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 love's you  
And needs no other Suitor, but his like  
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.  Aemil. 
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.   

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen. Oath. 
These Letters give (jago) 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.  jago. 
Well, my good Lord, I'll do't.  Oth. 
This Fortification (Gentlemen) shall we see't?  Gent. 
Well wait upon your Lordship.  Exeunt  

Scoena Tertia.  Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Aemilia. Des. 
Be thou assured (good Cassio) I will do  
All my abilities in thy behalf.  Aemil. 
Good Madam do:  
I warrant it grieves my Husband,  
As if the cause were his.  Des. 
Oh 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,  
What ever shall become of Michael Cassio,  
He's never any thing but your true Servant.  Des. 
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 farther off,  
Then in a politic distance.  Cassio. 
I, but Lady,  
That policy may either last so long,  
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,  
Or breed itself so out of Circumstances,  
That I being absent, and my place supplied,  
My General will forget my Love, and Service.  Des. 
Do not doubt ●hat: before Aemilia 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 dye,  
Then give thy cause away.  Enter Othello, and Iago. Aemil. 
Madam, here comes my Lord.  Cassio. 
Madam, I'll take my leave.  Des. 
Why stay, and hear me speak.  Cassio. 
Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,  
Unfit for mine own purposes.  Des. 
Well, do your discretion.  Exit Cassio. jago. 
Ha? I like not that,  Othel. 
What dost thou say?  jago. 
Nothing my Lord; or if— I know not what.  Othel. 
Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?  jago. 
Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot think it  
That he would steal away so guilty-like,  
Seeing your coming.  Oth. 
I do believe 'twas he.  Des. 
How now my Lord?  
I have been talking with a Suitor here,  
A man that languishes in your displeasure.  Oth. 
Who is't you mean?  Des. 
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 love's you,  
That errs in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,  
I have no judgement in an honest face.  
I prithee call him back.  Oth. 
Went he hence now?  Des. 
I sooth; so humbled,  
That he hath left part of his grief with me  
To suffer with him. Good Love, call him back.  Othel. 
Not now (sweet Desdemona) some other time.  Des. 
But shall't be shortly?  Oth. 
The sooner (Sweet) for you.  Des. 
Shall't be to night, at Supper?  Oth. 
No, not to night.  Des. 
To morrow Dinner then?  Oth. 
I shall not dine at home:  
I meet the Captains at the Citadel.  Des. 
Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morn,  
On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday Morn.  
I prithee name the time, but let it not  
Exceed three days. Infaith he's penitent:  
And yet his Trespass, in our common reason  
(Save that they say the wars must make example)  
Out of her best, is not almost a fault  
T' incur a private check. When shall he come?  
Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soul  
What you would ask me, that I should deny.  
Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,  
That came a wooing wirh 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.  Oth. 
Prithee no more: Let him come when he will:  
I will deny thee nothing.  Des. 
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.  Oth. 
I will deny thee nothing.  
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,  
To leave me but a little to myself.  Des. 
Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord.  Oth. 
Farewell my Desdemona, I'll come to thee straight.  Des. 
Aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you:  
What ere you be, I am obedient.  Exit. Oth. 
Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soul  
But I do love thee: and when I love thee not,  
Chaos is come again.  jago. 
My Noble Lord.  Oth. 
What dost thou say, jago?  jago. 
Did Michael Cassio  
When he wooed my Lady, know of your love?  Oth. 
He did, from first to last:  
Why dost thou ask?  jago. 
But for a satisfaction of my Thought,  
No further harm.  Oth. 
Why of thy thought, jago?  jago. 
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.  Oth. 
O yes, and went between us very oft.  jago. 
Indeed?  Oth. 
Indeed? I indeed. Discernest thou ought in that?  
Is he not honest?  jago. 
Honest, my Lord?  Oth. 
Honest? I, Honest.  jago. 
My Lord, for aught I know.  Oth. 
What dost thou think?  jago. 
Think, my Lord?  Oth. 
Think, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchosed me;  
As if there were some Monster in thy thought  
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:  
I heard thee say even now, thou lik'st not that,  
When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?  
And when I told thee, he was of my Counsel,  
Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeed?  
And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,  
As if thou than hadst shut up in thy Brain  
Some horrible Conceit. If thou dost love me,  
Show me thy thought.  jago. 
My Lord, you know I love you.  Oth. 
I think thou dost:  
And for I know thou'rt full of Love, and Honesty,  
And weighest thy words before thou giv'st 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're close dilations, working from the heart,  
That Passion cannot rule.  jago. 
For Michael Cassio,  
I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.  Oth. 
I think so too.  jago. 
Men should be what they seem,  
Or those that be not, would they might seem none.  Oth. 
Certain, men should be what they seem.  jago. 
Why then I think Cassio's an honest man.  Oth. 
Nay, yet there's more in this?  
I prithee speak to me, as to thy think,  
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts  
The worst of words.  jago. 
Good my Lord pardon me,  
Though I am bound to every Act of duty,  
I am not bound to that: All Slaves are free:  
Utter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and false?  
As where's that Palace, whereinto foul things  
Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so pure,  
Wherein uncleanly Apprehensions  
Keep Leetes, and Lawdayes, and in Sessions sit  
With meditations lawful?  Oth. 
Thou dost conspire against thy Friend (jago)  
If thou but thinkest him wronged, and makest his ear  
A stranger to thy Thoughts.  jago. 
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 of my jealousy  
Shapes faults that are not) that your wisdom  
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, and Wisdom,  
To let you know my thoughts.  Oth. 
What dost thou mean?  jago. 
Good name in Man, & 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.  Oth. 
I'll know thy Thoughts.  jago. 
You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,  
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.  Oth. 
Ha'?  jago. 
Oh, beware my Lord, of jealousy,  
It is the greene-eyed Monster, which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on. That Cuckold life's in bliss,  
Who certain of his Fate, love's not his wronger:  
But oh, what damned minutes ●els he over,  
Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet sound love's?  Oth. 
O misery.  jago. 
Poor, and Content, is rich, and rich enough,  
But Riches finelesse, 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.  Oth. 
Why? why is this?  
Thinkest thou, I'd make a Life of jealousy;  
To follow still the changes of the Moon  
With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt,  
Is to be resolved: Exchange me for a Goat,  
When I shall turn the business of my Soul  
To such exufflicate, and blowed Surmises,  
Matching thy inference. 'tis not to make me jealous,  
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, love's company,  
Is free of Speech, Sings, Plays, and Dances:  
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 jago,  
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.  ja. 
I am glad of this: 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 eyes, thus: not jealous, nor Secure:  
I would not have your free, and Noble Nature,  
Out of selfe-Bounty, be abused: Look too'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 kept unknown.  Oth. 
Dost thou say so?  jago. 
She did deceive her Father, marrying you,  
And when she seemed to shake, and fear your looks,  
She loved them most.  Oth. 
And so she did.  jago. 
Why go too then:  
She that so young could give out such a Seeming  
To seel her Father's eyes up, close as Oak,  
He thought 'twas Witchcraft.  
But I am much too blame:  
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon  
For too much loving you.  Oth. 
I am bound to thee for ever.  jago. 
I see this hath a little dashed your Spirits:  Oth. 
Not a jot, not a jot.  jago. 
Trust me, I fear it has:  
I hope you will consider what is spoke  
Comes from your 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,  
Then to Suspicion.  Oth. 
I will not.  jago. 
Should you do so (my Lord)  
My speech should fall into such vild success,  
Which my Thoughts aimed not.  
Cassio's my worthy Friend:  
My Lord, I see you're moved.  Oth. 
No, not much moved:  
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.  jago. 
Long live she so;  
And long live you to think so.  Oth. 
And yet how Nature erring from itself.  jago. 
I, 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,  
Fowl disproportions, Thoughts unnatural.  
But (pardon me) I do not in position  
Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear  
Her will, recoiling to her better judgement,  
May fall to match you with her Country forms,  
And happily repent.  Oth. 
Farewell, farewell:  
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:  
Set on thy wife to observe.  
Leave me jago.  jago. 
My Lord, I take my leave.  Othel. 
Why did I marry?  
This honest Creature (doubtless)  
Sees, and knows more, much more than he unfolds.  jago. 
My Lord, I would I might entreat your Honour  
To scan this thing no farther: Leave it to time,  
Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his Place;  
For sure he fills it up with great Ability;  
Yet if you please, to 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 Honor.  Oth. 
Fear not my government.  jago. 
I once more take my leave.  Exit. Oth. 
This Fellow's of exceeding honesty,  
And knows all Quantities with a learned Spirit  
Of humane dealings. If I do prove her Haggard,  
Though that her loesses were my dear heartstrings,  
I'd 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. Oh 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,  
Then keep a corner in the thing I love  
For others uses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,  
Prerogatiued are they less than the Base,  
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:  
Even then, this forked plague is Fated to us,  
When we do quicken. Look where she comes:  Enter Desdemona and Aemilia. 
If she be false, Heaven mocked itself:  
I'll not believe't.  Des. 
How now, my dear Othello?  
Your dinner, and the generous Islanders  
By you invited, do attend your presence.  Oth. 
I am too blame.  Des. 
Why do you speak so faintly?  
Are you not well?  Oth. 
I have a pain upon my Forehead, here.  Des. 
Why that's with watching, 'twill away again.  
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour  
It will be well.  Oth. 
Your Napkin is too little:  
Let it alone: Come, I'll go in with you.  Exit. Des. 
I am very sorry that you are not well.  Aemil. 
I am glad I have found this Napkin:  
This was her first remembrance from the Moor,  
My wayward Husband hath a hundred times  
Wooed me to steal it. But she so love's the Token,  
(For he conjured her, she should ever keep it)  
That she reserves it evermore about her,  
To kiss, and talk too. I'll have the work ta'en out,  
And give't jago: what he will do with it  
Heaven knows, not I:  
I nothing, but to please his Fantasy.  Enter Iago. jago. 
How now? What do you here alone?  Aemil. 
Do not you chide: I have a thing for you.  jago. 
You have a thing for me?  
It is a common thing—  Aemil. 
Ha?  jago. 
To have a foolish wife.  Aemil. 
Oh, is that all? What will you give me now  
For that same Handkerchief.  jago. 
What Handkerchief?  Aemil. 
What Handkerchief?  
Why that the Moor first gave to Desdemona,  
That which so often you did bid me steal.  jago. 
Hast stolen it from her?  Aemil. 
No: but she let it drop by negligence,  
And to th' advantage, I being here, took't up:  
Look, here ' 'tis.  jago. 
A good wench, give it me.  Aemil. 
What will you do with't, that you have been so earnest to have me filch it?  jago. 
Why, what is that to you?  Aemil. 
If it be not for some purpose of import,  
Give't me again. Poor Lady, she'll run mad  
When she shall lack it.  jago. 
Be not acknown on't:  
I have use for it. Go, leave me.  Exit Aemil. 
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 Nature's 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.  Enter Othello. 
Look where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,  
Nor all the drowsy Syrrups of the world  
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep  
Which thou owd'st yesterday.  Oth. 
Ha', Ha', false to me?  jago. 
Why how now General? No more of that.  Oth. 
Avaunt, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Rack:  
I swear 'tis better to be much abused,  
Then but to know't a little.  jago. 
How now, my Lord?  Oth. 
What sense had I, in her stolen hours of Lust?  
I saw't not, thought it not: it harmed not me:  
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merry.  
I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lips:  
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen,  
Let him not know't, and he's not robbed at all.  jago. 
I am sorry to hear this?  Oth. 
I had been happy, if the general Camp,  
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet Body,  
So I had nothing known. Oh now, for ever  
Farewell the Tranquill mind; farewell Content;  
Farewell the plumed Troops, and the big Wars,  
That makes Ambition, Virtue! Oh farewell;  
Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trump,  
The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife,  
The Royal Banner, and all Quality,  
Pride, Pomp, and Circumstance of glorious War:  
And O you mortal Engines, whose rude throats  
Th' immortal Jove's dread Clamours, counterfeit,  
Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone.  jago. 
Is't possible my Lord?  Oth. 
Villain, be sure thou prove my Love a Whore;  
Be sure of it: Give me the Ocular proof,  
Or by the worth of mine eternal Soul,  
Thou hadst been better have been borne a Dog  
Then answer my waked wrath.  jago. 
Is't come to this?  Oth. 
Make me to see't: or (at the least) so prove it,  
That the probation bear no Hinge, nor Loope,  
To hang a doubt on: Or woe upon thy life.  jago. 
My Noble Lord.  Oth. 
If thou dost slander her, and torture me,  
Never pray more: Abandon all remorse  
On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate:  
Do deeds to make Heaven weep, all Earth amazed;  
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,  
Greater than that.  jago. 
O Grace! O Heaven forgive me!  
Are you a Man? Have you a Soul? or Sense?  
God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Fool,  
That lov'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice!  
Oh 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.  Oth. 
Nay stay: thou shouldst be honest.  jago. 
I should be wise; for honesty's a Fool,  
And loses that it works for.  Oth. 
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. My name that was as fresh  
As Diane'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.  jago. 
I see you are eaten up with Passion:  
I do repent me, that I put it to you.  
You would be satisfied?  Oth. 
Would? Nay, and I will.  jago. 
And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord?  
Would you the super-vision grossly gape on?  
Behold her topped?  Oth. 
Death, and damnation. Oh!  jago. 
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 might have't.  Oth. 
Give me a living reason she's disloyal.  jago. 
I do not like the Office.  
But sith I am entered in this cause so fare  
(Pricked too'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 lose 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, oh sweet Creature: then kiss me hard,  
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots,  
That grew upon my lips, laid his Leg o'er my Thigh,  
And sigh, and kiss, and then cry cursed Fate,  
That gave thee to the Moor.  Oth. 
O monstrous! monstrous!  jago. 
Nay, this was but his Dream.  Oth. 
But this denoted a foregone conclusion,  
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a Dream.  jago. 
And this may help to thicken other proofs,  
That do demonstrate thinly.  Oth. 
I'll tear her all to pieces.  jago. 
Nay yet 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?  Oth. 
I gave her such a one: 'twas my first gift.  jago. 
I know not that: but such a Handkerchief  
(I am sure it was your wives) did I to day  
See Cassio wipe his Beard with.  Oth. 
If it be that.  jago. 
If it be that, or any, it was hers.  
It speaks against her with the other proofs.  Othel. 
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 jago,  
All my fond love thus do I blow to Heaven. 'Tis gone,  
Arise black vengeance, from the hollow hell,  
Yield up (O Love) thy Crown, and hearted Throne  
To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosom with thy fraught,  
For 'tis of Aspickes tongues.  jago. 
Yet be content.  Oth. 
Oh blood, blood, blood.  jago. 
Patience I say: your mind may change.  Oth. 
Never jago. Like to the Pontic Sea,  
Whose Icy Current, and compulsive course,  
Ne'er keeps retiring ebb, but keeps due on  
To the Proponticke, 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,  
In the due reverence of a Sacred vow,  
I here engage my words.  jago. 
Do not rise yet:  
Witness you everburning Lights above,  
You Elements, that clip us round about,  
Witness that here jago doth give up  
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,  
To wronged Othello's Service. Let him command,  
And to obey shall be in me remorse,  
What bloody business ever.  Oth. 
I greet thy love,  
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,  
And will upon the instant put thee too't.  
Within these three days let me hear thee say,  
That Cassio's not alive.  jago. 
My Friend is dead:  
'Tis done at your Request.  
But let her live.  Oth. 
Damn her lewd Minx:  
O damn her, 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.  jago. 
I am your own for ever.  Exeunt.  

Scaena Quarta.  Enter Desdemona, Aemilia, and Clown. Des. 
Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?  Clow. 
I dare not say he lies any where.  Des. 
Why man?  Clo. 
He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Soldier lies, 'tis stabbing.  Des. 
Go too: where lodges he?  Clo. 
To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.  Des. 
Can any thing be made of this?  Clo. 
I know not where he lodges, and for me to device a lodging, and say he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat.  Des. 
Can you inquire him out? and be edified by report?  Clo. 
I will Catechise the world for him, that is, make Questions, and by them answer.  Des. 
Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have moved my Lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.  Clo. 
To do this, is within the compass of man's Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.  Exit Clo. Des. 
Where should I lose the Handkerchief, Aemilia?  Aemil. 
I know not Madam.  Des. 
Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse  
Full of Cruzadoes. 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.  Aemil. 
Is he not jealous?  Des. 
Who, he? I think the Sun where he was borne,  
Drew all such humours from him.  Aemil. 
Look where he comes.  Enter Othello. Des. 
I will not leave him now, till Cassio be  
Called to him. How is't with you, my Lord?  Oth. 
Well my good Lady. Oh hardness to dissemble!  
How do you, Desdemona?  Des. 
Well, my good Lord.  Oth. 
Give me your hand.  
This hand is moist my Lady.  Des. 
It hath felt no age, nor known no sorrow.  Oth. 
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 sweeting Devil here  
That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand,  
A frank one.  Des. 
You may (indeed) say so:  
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.  Oth. 
A liberal hand. The hearts of old, gave hands:  
But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts.  Des. 
I cannot speak of this:  
Come, now your promise.  Oth. 
What promise, Chuck?  Des. 
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.  Oth. 
I have a salt and sorry Rheum offends me:  
Lend me thy Handkerchief.  Des. 
here my Lord.  Oth. 
That which I gave you.  Des. 
I have it not about me.  Oth. 
Not?  Des. 
No indeed, my Lord.  Oth. 
That's 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,  
IT would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father  
Entirely to her love: But if she lost it,  
Or made a 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 Wived)  
To give it her. I did to; and take heed on't,  
Make it a Darling, like your precious eye:  
To looseed, or give't away, were such perdition,  
As nothing else could match.  Des, 
Is't possible?  Oth. 
'Tis true: There's Magic in the web of it:  
A Sibyl that had numbered in the world  
The Sun to course, two hundred compasses,  
In her Prophetticke fury sowed the Work:  
The Worms were hallowed, that did breed the Silk,  
And it was died in Mummey, which the Skilful  
Conserved of Maidens hearts.  Des. 
Indeed? Is't true?  Oth. 
Most veritable, therefore look too't well.  Des. 
Then would to Heaven, that I had never seen't?  Oth. 
Ha'? wherefore?  Des. 
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?  Oth. 
Is't lost? Is't gone? Speak, is't out o' th' way?  Des. 
Bless us.  Oth. 
Say you?  Des. 
It is not lost: but what and if it were?  Oth. 
How?  Des. 
I say it is not lost.  Oth. 
Fetched, let me see't.  Des. 
Why so I can: but I will not now:  
This is a trick to put me from my suit,  
Pray you let Cassio be received again.  Oth. 
Fetch me the Handkerchief,  
My mind mis-gives.  Des. 
Come, come: you'll never meet a more sufficient man.  Oth. 
The Handkerchief.  Des. 
A man that all his time  
Hath founded his good Fortunes on your love;  
Shared dangers with you.  Oth. 
The Handkerchief.  Des. 
Insooth, you are too blame.  Oth. 
Away.  Exit Othello. Aemil. 
Is not this man jealous?  Des. 
I ne'er saw this before.  
Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchikfe,  
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.  Aemil. 
'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:  
They are all but Stomaches, and we all but Food,  
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full  
They belch us.  Enter jago, and Cassio. 
Look you, Cassio and my Husband.  jago. 
There is no other way: 'tis she must do't:  
And lo the happiness: go, and importune her.  Des. 
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 delayed.  
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.  Des. 
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 altered.  
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 patiented:  
What I can do, I will: and more I will  
Then for myself, I dare. Let that suffice you.  jago. 
Is my Lord angry?  Aemil. 
He went hence but now:  
And certainly in strange unquietness.  jago. 
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  
Puffed his own Brother: And is he angry?  
Something of moment then: I will go meet him,  
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.  Exit Des. 
I prithee do so. Something sure of State,  
Either from Venice, or some vnhatched practice  
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus, to him,  
Hath pudled 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 endues  
Our other healthful members, even to a sense  
Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not Gods,  
Nor of them look for such observancy  
As fits the Bridal. Beshrew me much, Aemilia,  
I was (unhandsome Warrior, as I am)  
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul:  
But now I find, I had suborned the Witness,  
And he's Indicted falsely.  Aemil. 
Pray heaven it be  
State matters, as you think, and no Conception,  
Nor no jealous Toy, concerning you.  Des. 
Alas the day, I never gave him cause.  Aemil. 
But jealous souls will not be answered so;  
They are not ever jealous for the cause,  
But jealous, for they're jealous. It is a Monster  
Begot upon itself, borne on itself.  Des. 
Heaven keep the Monster from Othello's mind.  Aemil. 
Lady, Amen.  Des. 
I will go seek him. Cassio, walk here about:  
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,  
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.  Exit Cas. 
I humbly thank your Ladyship.  Enter Bianca. Bian. 
'Saue you (Friend Cassio.)  Cassio. 
What make you from home?  
How is't with you, my most fair Bianca?  
Indeed (sweet Love) I was coming to your house.  Bian. 
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?  
Oh weary reckoning.  Cassio. 
Pardon me, Bianca:  
I have this while with leaden thoughts been pressed,  
But I shall in a more continuate time  
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca  
Take me this work out.  Bianca. 
Oh 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 too, woman:  
Throw your vild 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.  Bian. 
Why, who's is it?  Cassio. 
I know not neither:  
I found it in my Chamber,  
I like the work well; Ere it be demanded  
(As like enough it will) I would have it copied:  
Take it, and do't, and leave me for this time.  Bian. 
Leave you? Wherefore?  Cassio. 
I do attend here on the General,  
And think it no addition nor my wish  
To have him see me womaned.  Bian. 
Why, I ptay you?  Cassio. 
Not that I love you not.  Bian. 
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.  Bian. 
'Tis very good: I must be circumstanced.  Exeunt omnes.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Othello, and Iago. jago. 
Will you think so?  Oth. 
Think so, jago?  jago. 
What, to kiss in private?  Oth. 
An vnauthorized kiss?  jago. 
Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,  
An hour, or more, not meaning any harm?  Oth. 
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.  jago. 
If they do nothing, 'tis a Venial slip:  
But if I give my wife a Handkerchief.  Oth. 
What then?  jago. 
Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers,  
She may (I think) bestowed on any man.  Oth. 
She is Protectress of her honour too:  
May she give that?  jago. 
Her honour is an Essence that's not seen,  
They have it very oft, that have it not.  
But for the Handkerchief.  Oath. 
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it:  
Thou saidst (oh, it comes over my memory,  
As doth the Raven o'er the infectious house:  
Boding to all) he had my Handkerchief.  jago. 
I: what of that?  Oath. 
That's not so good now.  jag. 
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.)  Oth. 
Hath he said any thing?  jago. 
He hath (my Lord) but be you well assured,  
No more than he'll unswear.  Oth. 
What hath he said?  jago. 
Why, that he did: I know not what he did.  Oath. 
What? What?  jago. 
Lye.  Oth. 
With her?  jago. 
With her? On her: what you will.  Oath. 
Lie with her? lie on her? We say lie on her, when they be-lye-her. Lie with her: that's fullsome: 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 shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Ears, and Lips: is't possible. Confess? Handkerchief? O devil.  Falls in a Trance. jago. 
Work on,  
My Medicine works. Thus credulous Fools are caught,  
And many worthy, and chaste Dames even thus,  
(All guiltless) meet reproach: what hoa? My Lord?  
My Lord, I say: Othello.  Enter Cassio. 
How now Cassio?  Cas. 
What's the matter?  jago. 
My Lord is fall'n into an Epilepsy,  
This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday.  Cas. 
Rub him about the Temples.  jago. 
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 strait: when he is gone,  
I would on great occasion, speak with you.  
How is it General? Have you not hurt your head?  Oath. 
Dost thou mock me?  jago. 
I mock you not, by Heaven:  
Would you would bear your Fortune like a Man.  Oath. 
A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast.  jago. 
there's many a Beast then in a populous City,  
And many a civil Monster.  Oath. 
Did he confess it?  jago. 
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.  
Oh, 'tis the spite of hell, the Fiends 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.  Oth. 
Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certain.  jago. 
Stand you a while apart,  
Confine yourself but in a patiented Lis●,  
Whilst you were here, overwhelmed with your grief  
(A passion most resulting such a man)  
Cassio came hither. I shifted him away,  
And laid good scuses upon your Ecstasy,  
Bade him anon return: and here speak with me,  
The which he promised. Do but encave yourself,  
And mark the Fleeres, the Gybes, 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 ye are all in all in Spleen,  
And nothing of a man.  Oath. 
Dost thou hear, jago,  
I will be found most cunning in my Patience:  
But (dost thou hear) most bloody.  jago. 
That's not amiss,  
But yet keep time in all: will you withdraw?  
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,  
A Huswife, that by selling her desires  
Buys herself Bread, and Cloth. It is a Creature  
That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpet's plague  
To be-guile many, and be beguiled by one)  
He, when he hears of her, cannot restrain  
From the excess of Laughter. here he comes.  Enter Cassio. 
As he shall smile, Othells shall go mad:  
And his unbookish jealousy must conserve  
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviours  
Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?  Cas. 
The worse, that you give me the addition,  
Whose want even kills me.  jago. 
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:  
Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowry,  
How quickly should you speed?  Cas. 
Alas poor Caitiff.  Oth. 
Look how he laughs already.  jago. 
I never knew woman love man so.  Cas. 
Alas poor Rogue, I think indeed she love's me.  Oth. 
Now he denies it faintly: and laughs it out.  jago. 
Do you hear Cassio?  Oth. 
Now he importunes him  
To tell it o'er: go too, well said, well said.  jago. 
She gives it out, that you shall marry her.  
Do you intent it?  Cas. 
Ha', ha', ha'.  Oth. 
Do ye triumph, Roman? do you triumph?  Cas. 
I marry. What? A customer; prithee bear  
Some Charity to my wit, do not think it  
So unwholesome. Ha', ha', ha'.  Oth. 
So, so, so, so: they laugh, that wins.  jago. 
Why the cry goes, that you marry her.  Cas. 
Prithee say true.  jago. 
I am a very Villain else.  Oth. 
Have you scored me? Well.  Cas. 
This is the Monkeys own giving out:  
She is persuaded I will marry her  
Out of her own love & flattery, not out of my promise.  Oth. 
jago becomes me: now he gins 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 falls me thus about my neck.  Oth. 
Crying ohs dear Cassio, as it were: his gesture imports it.  Cassio. 
So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me:  
So shakes, and pulls me. Ha', ha', ha'.  Oth. 
Now he tells how she plucked him to my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog, I shall throw it to.  Cassio. 
Well, I must leave her company.  jago. 
Before me: look where she comes.  Enter Bianca. Cas 
'Tis such another Fitchow: marry a perfumed one?  
What do you mean by this haunting of me?  Bian. 
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 know not who left it there. This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the work●? There, give it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't.  Cassio. 
How now, my sweet Bianca?  
How now? How now?  Oath. 
By Heaven, that should be my Handkerchief.  Bian. 
If you'll come to supper to night you may, if you will not, come when you are next prepared for.  Exit jago. 
After her: after her.  Cas. 
I must, she'll rail in the streets else.  jago. 
Will you sup there?  Cassio. 
Yes, I intent so.  jago. 
Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very fame speak with you.  Cas. 
Prithee come: will you?  jago. 
Go too: say no more.  Oth. 
How shall I murder him, Iago.  jago. 
Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?  Oth. 
Oh, jago.  jago. 
And did you see the Handkerchief?  Oth. 
Was that mine?  jago. 
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.  Oth. 
I would have him nine years a killing:  
A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman?  jago. 
Nay, you must forget that.  Othello. 
I, let her ●ot 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. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lie by an Emperor's side, and command him Tasks.  jago. 
Nay, that's not your way.  Oath. 
Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate with her Needle: an admirable Musician. Oh she will sing the Savageness out of a Bear: of so high and plenteous wit, and invention?  jago. 
She's the worse for all this.  Oath. 
Oh, a thousand, a thousand times:  
And the● of so gentle a condition?  jago. 
I too gentle.  Oath. 
Nay that's certain:  
But yet the pity of it, Iago: oh jago, the pity of it jago.  jago. 
If you are so fond over her iniquity: give her patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes near no body.  Oth. 
I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me?  jago. 
Oh, 'tis foul in her.  Oth. 
With mine Officer?  jago. 
That's fouler.  Oath. 
Get me some poison, jago, this night. I'll not expostulate with her: lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again: this night jago.  jago. 
Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed,  
Even the bed she hath contaminated.  Oth. 
Good, good:  
The justice of it pleases: very good.  jago. 
And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker:  
You shall hear more by midnight.  Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants. Oath. 
Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same?  jago. 
I warrant something from Venice,  
'Tis Lodovico, this, comes from the Duke.  
See, your wife's with him.  Lodo. 
Save you worthy General.  Oath. 
With all my heart Sir.  Lod. 
The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you.  Oath. 
I kiss the Instrument of their pleasures.  Des. 
And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?  jago. 
I am very glad to see you Signior:  
Welcome to Cyprus.  Lod. 
I thank you: how does Lieutenant Cassio?  jago. 
Life's Sir,  Des. 
Cousin, there's fall'n between him, & my Lord,  
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.  Oath. 
Are you sure of that?  Des. 
My Lord?  Oath. 
This fail you not to do, as you will—  Lod. 
He did not call: he's busy in the paper,  
Is there division 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?  Des. 
A most unhappy one: I would do much  
T' atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.  Oth. 
Fire, and brimstone.  Des. 
My Lord.  Oth. 
Are you wise?  Des. 
What is he angry?  Lod. 
May be th' Letter moved him.  
For as I think, they do command him home,  
Deputing Cassio in his Government.  Des. 
Trust me, I am glad on't.  Oath. 
Indeed?  Des. 
My Lord?  Oath. 
I am glad to see you mad.  Des. 
Why, sweet Othello?  Oath. 
Devil.  Des. 
I have not deserved this.  Lod. 
My Lord, this would not be believed in Venice,  
Though I should swear I saw't. 'Tis very much,  
Make her amends: she weeps.  Oath. 
Oh devil, devil:  
If that the Earth could teem with woman's tears,  
Each drop she falls, would prove a Crocodile:  
Out of my sight.  Des. 
I will not stay to offend you.  Lod. 
Truly obedient Lady:  
I do beseech your Lordship call her back.  Oath. 
Mistress.  Des. 
My Lord.  Oath. 
What would you with her, Sir?  Lod. 
Who I, my Lord?  Oath. 
I, 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, (oh 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:  
Cassio shall have my Place. And Sir, to night  
I do entreat, that we may sup together.  
You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.  
Goats, and Monkeys.  Exit. Lod. 
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  
Can neither graze, nor pierce?  jago. 
He is much changed.  Lod. 
Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Brain?  jago. 
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.  Lod. 
What? Strike his wife?  jago. 
I'faith that was not so well: yet would I knew  
That stroke would prove the worst.  Lod. 
Is it his use?  
Or did the Letters, work upon his blood,  
And new create his fault?  jago. 
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 deonte him so,  
That I may save my speech: do but go after  
And mark how he continues.  Lod. 
I am sorry that I am deceived in him.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Othello▪ and Aemilia. Oath. 
You have seen nothing then?  Aemil. 
Nor ever heard: nor ever did suspect.  Oath. 
Yes; you have seen Cassio, and she together.  Aemi. 
But then I saw no harm: and then I heard,  
Each syllable that breath made up between them.  Oath. 
What? Did they never whisper?  Aemil. 
Never my Lord.  Oath. 
Nor send you out o' th' way?  Aemil. 
Never.  Oath. 
To fetch her Fan, her Gloves, her Mask, nor nothing?  Aemil. 
Never my Lord.  Oath. 
That's strange.  Aemil. 
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 requited 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.  Oath. 
Bid her come hither: go.  Exit Aemilia. 
She says enough: yet she's a simple Bawd  
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle Whore:  
A Closet Locke and Key of Villainous Secrets,  
And yet she'll kneel, and pray: I have seen her do't.  Enter Desdemona, and Aemilia. Des. 
My Lord, what is your will?  Oath. 
Pray you Chuck come hither.  Des. 
What is your pleasure?  Oth. 
Let me see your eyes: look in my face.  Des. 
What horrible Fancy's this?  Oath. 
Some of your Function Mistress:  
Leave Procreants alone, and shut the door:  
Cough, or cry 'em; if any body come:  
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.  Exit Aemilia▪ Des. 
Upon my knee, what doth your speech import▪  
I understand a Fury in your words.  Oath. 
Why? What art thou?  Des. 
Your wife my Lord: your true and loyal wife.  Othello. 
Come swear it: damn thyself, least being like one of Heaven, the devils themselves should fear to cease thee. Therefore be double damned: swear thou art honest.  Des. 
Heaven doth truly know it.  Oath. 
Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell.  Des. 
To whom my Lord?  
With whom? How am I false?  Oath. 
Ah Desdemona, away, away, away.  Des. 
Alas the heavy day: why do you weep?  
Am I the motive of these tears my Lord?  
If happily you my Father do suspect,  
An Instrument of this your calling back,  
Lay not your blame on me: if you have lost him,  
I have lost him too.  Oath. 
Hadst pleased Heaven,  
To try me with Affliction, had they reigned  
All kind of Sores, and Shames on my barehead:  
Steeped 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  
The fixed Figure for the time of Scorn,  
To point his slow, and moving finger at.  
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well:  
But there where I have garnerd up my heart,  
Where either I must live, or bear no life,  
The Fountain from the which my currant 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-liped Cherubin,  
I here look grim as hell.  Des. 
I hope my Noble Lord esteems me honest.  Oth●. 
Oh I, as Summer Flies are in the Shambles,  
That quicken even with blowing. Oh thou weed:  
Who art so lovely fair, and smellest so sweet,  
That the Sense aches at thee,  
Would thou hadst never been borne.  Des. 
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?  Oath. 
Was this fair Paper? This most goodly Book  
Made to write Whore upon? What committed,  
Committed? Oh, 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 hushed within the hollow Mine of Earth  
And will not hear't. What committed?  Des. 
By Heaven you do me wrong.  Oath. 
Are not you a Strumpet?  Des. 
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.  Oath. 
What, not a Whore?  Des. 
No, as I shall be saved.  Oath. 
Is't possible?  Des. 
Oh Heaven forgive us.  Oath. 
I cry you mercy then.  
I took you for that cunning Whore of Venice,  
That married with Othello. You Mistress,  Enter Aemilia. 
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,  
And keeps the gate of hell. You, you: I you.  
We have done our course: there's money for your pains:  
I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel.  Exit. Aemil. 
Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceive?  
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?  Des. 
Faith, half a sleep.  Aemi. 
Good Madam,  
What's the matter with my Lord?  Des. 
With who?  Aemil. 
Why, with my Lord, Madam?  Des. 
Who is thy Lord?  Aemil. 
He that is yours, sweet Lady.  Des. 
I have none: do not talk to me, Aemilia,  
I cannot weep: nor answers have I none,  
But what should go by water. Prithee to night,  
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember,  
And call thy husband hither.  Aemil. 
here's a change indeed.  Exit. Des. 
'Tis meet I should be used so: very meet.  
How have I been behaved, that he might stick  
The smallest opinion on my least misuse?  Enter jago, and Aemilia. jago. 
What is your pleasure Madam?  
How is't with you?  Des. 
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.  jago. 
What is the matter Lady?  Aemil. 
Alas (jago) my Lord hath so bewhored her,  
Thrown such despite, and heavy terms upon her  
That true hearts cannot bear it.  Des. 
Am I that name, jago?  jago. 
What name (fair Lady?)  Des. 
Such as she said my Lord did say I was.  Aemil. 
He called her whore: a Beggar in his drink:  
Can not have laid such terms upon his Callet.  jago. 
Why did he so?  Des. 
I do not know: I am sure I am none such.  jago. 
Do not weep, do not weep: alas the day.  Aemil. 
Hath she forsook so many Noble Matches?  
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?  
To be called Whore? Would it not make one weep?  Des. 
It is my wretched Fortune.  jago. 
Beshrew him for't:  
How comes this Trick upon him?  Des. 
Nay, Heaven doth know.  Aemi. 
I will be hanged, if some eternal Villain,  
Some busy and insinuating Rogue,  
Some cogging, cozening Slave, to get some Office,  
Have not devised this Slander: I will be hanged else.  jago. 
Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible.  Des. 
If any such there be, Heaven pardon him.  Aemil. 
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 liklyhood?  
The moor's abused by some most villainous Knave,  
Some base notorious Knave, some scurvy Fellow.  
Oh Heavens, that such companions thou'dst unfold,  
And put in every honest hand a whip  
To lash the Rascals naked through the world,  
Even from the East to th' West.  jago. 
Speak within door.  Aemil. 
Oh fie upon them: some such Squire he was  
That turned your wit, the seamy-side without,  
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.  jago. 
You are a Fool: go too.  Des. 
Alas jago,  
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 ere 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: or 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.  jago. 
I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour:  
The business of the State does him offence.  Des. 
If 'twere no other.  jago. 
It is but so, I warrant,  
Hark how these Instruments summon to supper:  
The Messengers of Venice stays the meat,  
Go in, and weep not: all things shall be well.  Exeunt Desdemona and Aemilia. Enter Rodorigo. 
How now Rodorigo?  Rod. 
I do not find  
That thou dealest justly with me.  jago. 
What in the contrary?  Rodori. 
Every day thou dafts me with some devise jago, and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st 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.  jago. 
Will you hear me Rodorigo?  Rodori. 
I have heard too much: and your words and Performances are no kin together.  jago. 
You charge me most unjustly.  Rodo. 
With naught but truth: I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver 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.  jago. 
Well, go too: very well.  Rod. 
Very well▪ go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor 'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scurvy: and begin to find myself fopt in it.  jago. 
Very well.  Rodor. 
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.  jago. 
You have said now.  Rodo. 
I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.  jago. 
Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before: give me thy ●and Rodorigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just exception: but yet I protest I have dealt most directly in thy Affair.  Rod. 
It hath not appeared.  jago. 
I grant indeed it hath not appeared: and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement. But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to▪ believe now then 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 device Engines for my life.  Rod. 
Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compass?  jago. 
Sir, there is especial Commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place.  Rod. 
Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.  jago. 
Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh 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.  Rod. 
How do you mean removing him?  jago. 
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place: knocking out his brains.  Rod. 
And that you would have me to do.  jago. 
I: 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 Honourable 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 supper time: and the night grows to waste. About it.  Rod. 
I will hear further reason for this.  jago. 
And you shallbe satisfied.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona Aemilia, and Atendants. Lod. 
I do beseech you Sir, trouble yourself no further.  Oth. 
Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.  Lodovi. 
Madam, good night: I humbly thank your Ladyship.  Des. 
Your Honour is most welcome.  Oth. 
Will you walk Sir? Oh Desdemona.  Des. 
My Lord.  Othello. 
Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be returned forth with: dismiss your Attendant there: looked be done.  Exit. Des. 
I will my Lord.  Aem. 
How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.  Des. 
He says he will return incontinent,  
And hath commanded me to go to bed,  
And bid me to dismiss you.  Aemi. 
Dismiss me?  Des. 
It was his bidding: therefore good Aemilia,  
Give me my nightly wearing▪ and adieu.  
We must not now displease him.  Aemil. 
I, would you had never seen him.  Des. 
So would not I: my love doth so approve him,  
That even his stubborness, his checks, his frowns,  
(Prithee un-pin me) have grace and favour.  Aemi. 
I have laid those Sheets you bade me on the bed.  Des. 
All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds?  
If I do die before, prithee shroud me  
In one of these same Sheets.  Aemil. 
Come, come: you talk.  Des. 
My Mother had a Maid called Barbary,  
She was in love: and he she loved proved mad,  
And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,  
An old thing 'twas: but it expressed 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 Brabarie: prithee dispatch.  Aemi. 
Shall I go fetch your Nightgown?  Des. 
No▪ va-pin me here,  
This Lodovico is a proper man.  Aemil. 
A very handsome man.  Des. 
He speaks well.  Aemil. 
I know a Lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.  Des. 
The poor Soul sat singing, by a Sicamour tree.  
Sing all a green Willough:  
Her hand on her bosom her head on her knee,  
Sing Willough, Willough, Willough.  
The fresh Streams ran by her, and murmured her moans  
Sing Willough, etc.  
Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones,  
Sing Willough, etc. (Lay by these)  
Willough, Willough. (Prithee high thee: he'll come anon)  
Sing all a green Willough must be my Garland.  
Let no body blame him, his scorn I approve.  
(Nay that's not next. Hark, who is't that knocks?  Aemil. 
It's the wind.  Des. 
I called my Love false Love: but what said he then?  
Sing Willough, etc.  
If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.  
So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch:  
Doth that bode weeping?  Aemil, 
'Tis neither here, nor there.  Des. 
I have heard it said so. O these Men, these men!  
Dost thou in conscience think (tell me Aemilia)  
That there be women do abuse their husbands  
In such gross kind?  Aemil. 
There be some such, no question.  Des. 
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?  Aemil. 
Why, would not you?  Des. 
No, by this Heavenly light.  Aemil. 
Nor I neither, by this Heavenly light:  
I might do't as well i' th' dark.  Des. 
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?  Aemil. 
The world's a huge thing:  
It is a great price, for a small vice.  Des. 
Introth, I think thou wouldst not.  Aemil. 
Introth 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 all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture Purgatory for't.  Des. 
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong  
For the whole world.  Aemil. 
Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' th' world; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.  Des. 
I do not think there is any such woman.  Aemil. 
Yes, a dozen: and as many to ' th' vantage, as would store the world they played for.  
But I do think it is their Husband's 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.  Des. 
Good night, good night:  
Heaven me such uses send,  
Not to pick bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.  Exeunt   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter jago, and Rodorigo. jago. 
here, stand behind this Bark,  
Strait 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.  Rod. 
Be near at hand, I may miscarry in't.  jago. 
here, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand.  Rod. 
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.  jago. 
I have rubbed 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 Rodorigo,  
He calls me to a restitution large  
Of Gold, and jewels, that I bobbed 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 dye. But so, I heard him coming.  Enter Cassio. Rod. 
I know his gate, 'tis he: Villain thou diest.  Cas. 
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,  
But that my Coat is better than thou knowst:  
I will make proof of thine.  Rod. 
Oh, I am slain.  Cassio. 
I am maimed for ever:  
Help hoa: Murder, murder.  Enter Othello. Oth. 
The voice of Cassio▪ jago keeps his word.  Rod. 
O Villain that I am.  Oth. 
It is even so.  Cas. 
Oh help hoa: Light, a Surgeon.  Oth. 
'Tis he: O brave jago, honest, and just,  
That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong,  
Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,  
And your unblessed Fate highes: Strumpet I come:  
For of my heart, those Charms thine Eyes, are blotted.  
Thy Bed lust-stained, shall with Lust's blood be spotted.  Exit Othello. Enter Lodovico and Gratiano. Cas. 
What hoa? no Watch? No passage?  
Murder, Murder.  Gra. 
'Tis some mischance, the voice is very direful.  Cas. 
Oh help.  Lodo. 
Hark.  Rod. 
Oh wretched Villain.  Lod. 
Two or three groan. 'Tis heavy night;  
These may be counterfeits: Let's think't unsafe  
To come into the cry, without more help.  Rod. 
Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death.  Enter Iago. Lod. 
Hark.  Gra. 
Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and Weapons.  jago. 
Who's there?  
Who's noise is this that cries on murder?  Lodo. 
We do not know.  jago▪ 
Do not you hear a cry?  Cas. 
here, here: for heaven sake help me.  jago. 
What's the matter?  Gra. 
This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it.  Lodo. 
The same indeed, a very valiant Fellow.  jago. 
What are you here, that cry so grievously?  Cas. 
jago? Oh I am spoiled, undone by Villains:  
Give me some help.  jago. 
O me, Lieutenant!  
What Villains have done this?  Cas. 
I think that one of them is hereabout▪  
And cannot make away.  jago. 
Oh treacherous Villains:  
What are you there? Come in, and give some help.  Rod. 
O help me there.  Cassio. 
That's one of them.  jago. 
Oh murderous Slave! O Villain!  Rod. 
O damned jago! O inhuman Dog▪  jago. 
Kill men i' th' dark?  
Where be these bloody Thiefs?  
How silent is this Town? Hoa, murder, murder.  
What may you be? Are you of good, or evil?  Lod. 
As you shall prove us, praise us.  jago. 
Signior Lodovico?  Lod. 
He Sir.  jago. 
I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villains.  Gra. 
Cassio?  jago. 
How is't Brother?  Cas. 
My Leg is cut in two.  jago. 
Marry heaven forbid:  
Light Gentlemen, I'll bind it with my shirt.  Enter Bianca. Bian. 
What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cried?  jago. 
Who is't that cried?  Bian. 
Oh my dear Cassio,  
My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.  jago. 
O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect  
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?  Cas. 
No.  Gra. 
I am sorry to find you thus;  
I have been to seek you.  jago. 
Lend me a Garter. So:— Oh for a Chair  
To bear him easily hence.  Bian. 
Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.  jago. 
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash  
To be a party in this Injury.  
Patience a while, good Cassio. Come, come;  
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?  
Alas my Friend, and my dear Countryman  
Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo.  Gra. 
What, of Venice?  jago. 
Even he Sir: Did you know him?  Gra. 
Know him? I.  jago. 
Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon:  
These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners,  
That so neglected you.  Gra. 
I am glad to see you.  jago. 
How do you Cassio? Oh▪ a Chair, a Chair.  Gra. 
Rodorigo?  jago. 
He, he, 'tis he:  
Oh that's well said, the Chair.  
Some good man bear him carefully from hence,  
I'll fetch the general's Surgeon. For you Mistress,  
Save you your labour. He that lies slain here (Cassio)  
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?  Cas. 
None in the world: nor do I know the man?  jago. 
What? look you pale? Oh bear him o' th' Air.  
Stay you good Gentlemen. Look you pale, Mistress?  
Do you perceive the gastnesse 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.  Aemil. 
Alas, what is the matter?  
What is the matter, Husband?  jago. 
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark  
By Rodorigo, and Fellows that are scaped:  
He's almost slain, and Rodorigo quite dead.  Aemil. 
Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio.  jago. 
This is the fruits of whoring. Prithee Aemilia,  
Go know of Cassio where he supped to night.  
What, do you shake at that?  Bian. 
He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not.  jago. 
O did he so? I charge you go with me.  Aemil. 
Oh fie upon thee Strumpet.  Bian. 
I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest,  
As you that thus abuse me.  Aemil. 
As I? Fie upon thee.  jago. 
Kind Gentlemen:  
Let's go see poor Cassio dressed.  
Come Mistress, you must tells another Tale.  
Aemilia, run you to the Citadel,  
And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happened:  
Will you go on afore? This is the night  
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.  Exeunt  

Scoena Secunda.  Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed. Oth. 
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 scare that whiter skin of hers, than Snow▪  
And smooth as Monumental Alabaster:  
Yet she must dye, 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 cunningest Pattern of excelling Nature,  
I know not where is that Promethae● heat  
That can thy Light re-Lume.  
When I have plucked thy Rose,  
I cannot give it vital growth again,  
It needs must whither. I'll smell thee on the Tree.  
Oh 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 that's 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.  Des. 
Who's there? Othello?  Othel. 
I Desdemona.  Des. 
Will you come to bed, my Lord?  Oth. 
Have you prayed to night, Desdemona?  Des. 
I my Lord.  Oth. 
If you bethink yourself of any Crime  
Unreconciled as yet to Heaven, and Grace,  
Solicit for it strait.  Des. 
Alack, my Lord,  
What may you mean by that?  Oth. 
Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by:  
I would not kill thy unprepared Spirit,  
No, Heavens forefend) I would not kill thy Soul.  Des. 
Talk you of killing?  Oth. 
I, I do.  Des. 
Then Heaven have mercy on me.  Oth. 
Amen, with all my heart.  Des. 
If you say, I hope you will not kill me.  Oth. 
Humh.  Des. 
And yet I fear you: for you're 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.  Oth. 
Think on thy sins.  Des. 
They are Loue● I bear to you.  Oth. 
I, and for that thou diest.  Des. 
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.  Oth. 
Peace, and be still.  Des. 
I will so: What's the matter?  Oth. 
That Handkerchief  
Which I so loved, and gave thee, thou gav'st to Cassio.  Des. 
No by my Life, and Soul: send for the man,  
And ask him.  Oth. 
Sweet Soul, take heed, take heed of Perjury,  
Thou art on thy deathbed.  Des. 
I, but not yet to dye.  Oth. 
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 dye.  Des. 
O Heaven have mercy on me.  Oth. 
I say, Amen.  Des. 
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.  Oth. 
By Heaven I saw my Handkerchief in's hand.  
O perjured woman, thou dost stone my heart,  
And makes me call, what I intent to do,  
A Murder, which I thought a Sacrifice.  
I saw the Handkerchief.  Des. 
He found it then:  
I never gave it him: Send, for him hither:  
Let him confess a truth.  Oth. 
He hath confessed.  Des. 
What, my Lord?  Oth. 
That he hath used thee.  Des. 
How? unlawfully?  Oth. 
I.  Des. 
He will not say so.  Oth. 
No: his mouth is stopped:  
Honest jago hath ' ta'en order for't.  Des. 
Oh, my fear interprets. What is he dead?  Oth. 
Had all his hairs been lives, my great Revenge  
Had stomach for them all.  Des. 
Alas, he is betrayed, and I undone.  Oth. 
Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face?  Des. 
O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not.  Oth. 
down Strumpet.  Des. 
Kill me to morrow, let me live to night.  Oth. 
Nay, if you strive.  Des. 
But half an hour.  Oth. 
Being done, there is no pause.  Des. 
But while I say one prayer.  Oth. 
It is too late.  Smothers her. Aemilia at the door. Aemil. 
My Lord, my Lord? What hoa?  
My Lord, my Lord.  Oth. 
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.  Aemil. within. 
What hoa? my Lord, my Lord?  Oth. 
Who's there?  Aemil. 
Oh good my Lord, I would speak a word with you.  Oth. 
Yes: 'Tis Aemilia: by and by. she's dead.  
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death:  
The noise was high. Ha, no more moving?  
Still as the Grave. Shall ●he 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.  
Oh insupportable! Oh heavy hour!  
Me thinks, it should be now a huge Eclipse  
Of Sun, and Moon; and that th' affrighted Globe  
Did yawn at Alteration.  Aemil. 
I do beseech you  
That I may speak with you. Oh good my Lord.  Oth. 
I had forgot thee: oh come in Aemilia.  
Soft, by and by, let me the Curtains draw.  
Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now?  Enter Aemilia. Aemil. 
Oh my good Lord, yonder's foul Murders done.  Oth. 
What? now?  Aemil. 
But now, my Lord.  Oth. 
It is the very error of the Moon,  
She comes more nearer Earth than she was wont,  
And makes men mad.  Aemil. 
Cassio, my Lord, hath killed  
A young Venetian, called Rodorigo.  Oth. 
Rodorigo killed? and Cassio killed?  Aemil 
No▪ Cassio is not killed.  Oth. 
Not Cassio killed? Then murder's out of tune,  
And sweet Revenge grows harsh.  Des. 
O falsely, falsely murdered.  Aemil. 
Alas! what cry is that?  Oth. 
That? What?  Aemil. 
Out, and alas, that was my Lady's voice.  
Help, help hoa, help. Oh Lady speak again,  
Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistress, speak.  Des. 
A guiltless death, I die.  Aemil. 
Oh who hath done this deed?  Des. 
No body: I myself, farewell:  
Commend me to my kind Lord: oh farewell.  Oth. 
Why, how should she be murdered?  Aemil. 
Alas: who knows?  Oth. 
You hear her say herself, it was not I.  Aemil. 
She said so: I must needs report the truth.  Oth. 
She's like a Liar gone to burning hell,  
'Twas I that killed her.  Aemil. 
Oh the more Angel she, and you the blacker Devil.  Oth. 
She turned to folly: and she was a whore.  Aemil. 
Thou dost belly her, and thou art a devil.  Oth. 
She wa● false as water.  Aemil. 
Thou a●t rash as fire, to say  
That she was false. Oh she was heavenly true.  Oth. 
Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else.  
O, I were damned beneath all depth in hell:  
But that I did proceed upon just grounds  
To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all.  Aemil. 
My Husband?  Oth. 
Thy Husband.  Aemil. 
That she was false to Wedlock?  Oth. 
I, with Cassio: had she been true,  
If Heaven would make me such another world,  
Of one entire and perfect Chrysolite,  
I'd not have sold her for it.  Aemil. 
My Husband?  Oth. 
I, 'twas he that told me on her first,  
An honest man he is, and hates the slime  
That sticks on filthy deeds.  Aemil. 
My Husband?  Oth. 
What needs this itterance, Woman?  
I say, thy Husband.  Aemil. 
Oh Mistress,  
Villainy hath made mocks with love:  
My Husband say she was false?  Oth. 
He, Woman;  
I say thy Husband: Dost understand the word?  
My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest jago.  Aemil. 
If he say so, may his pernicious Soul  
Rot half a grain a day: he lies to ' th' heart,  
She was too fond of her most filthy Bargain.  Oth. 
Ha?  Aemil. 
Do thy worst:  
This deed of thine is no more worthy Heaven,  
Then thou was't worthy her.  Oth. 
Peace, you were best.  Aemil. 
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm,  
As I have to be hurt. Oh Gull, oh 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, hoa, help:  
The Moor hath killed my Mistress. Murder, murder.  Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago. Mon. 
What is the matter? How now General?  Aemil. 
Oh, are you come, jago: you have done well,  
That men must lay their Murders on your neck.  Gra. 
What is the matter?  Aemil. 
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.  jago. 
I told him what I thought,  
And told no more  
Than what he found himself was apt, and true.  Aemil. 
But did you ever tell him,  
She was false?  jago. 
I did.  Aemil. 
You ●old a Lie an odious damned Lie:  
Upon my Soul, a Lie; a wicked Lye.  
She false with Cassio?  
Did you say with Cassio?  jago. 
With Cassio, Mistress?  
Go too, charm your tongue.  Emil. 
I will not charm my Tongue;  
I am bound to speak,  
My Mistress here lies murdered in her bed.  All. 
Oh Heavens, forfend.  Emil. 
And your reports have set the Murder on.  Othello. 
Nay stare not Masters,  
It is true indeed.  Gra. 
'Tis a strange Truth.  Mont. 
O monstrous Act.  Emil. 
Villainy, villainy, villainy:  
I think upon't, I think: I smeled: O Villainy:  
I thought so then: I'll kill myself for grief.  
O villainy! villainy!  jago. 
What, are you mad?  
I charge you get you home.  Emil. 
Good Gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:  
'Tis proper I obey him; but not now:  
Perchance jago, I will ne'er go home.  Oth. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Emil. 
Nay, lay thee down, and roar:  
For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent,  
That ere did lift up eye.  Oth. 
Oh she was fowl!  
I scarce did know you Uncle, there lies your Niece,  
Whose breath (indeed) these hands have newly stopped:  
I know this act shows horrible and grim.  Gra. 
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 Reprobance.  Oth. 
'Tis pitiful: but yet jago knows  
That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame▪  
A thousand times committed. Cassio confessed 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.  Emil. 
Oh Heaven! oh heavenly Powers!  jago. 
Come, hold your peace.  Emil. 
'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.  jago. 
Be wise, and get you home.  Emil. 
I will not.  Gra. 
Fie, your Sword upon a Woman.  Emil. 
Oh thou dull Moor,  
That Handkerchief thou speakest of  
I found by Fortune, and did give my Husband:  
For often, with a solemn earnestness,  
(More than indeed belonged to such a Trifle)  
He begged of me, to stealeed.  jago. 
Villainous Whore.  Emil. 
She give it Cassio? No, alas I found it,  
And I did give't my Husband.  jago. 
Filth, thou liest.  Emil. 
By Heaven I do not, I do not Gentlemen:  
Oh murderous Coxcomb, what should such a Fool  
Do with so good a wife?  Oth. 
Are there no stones in Heaven,  
But what serves for the Thunder?  
Precious Villain.  Gra. 
The woman falls:  
Sure he hath killed his Wife.  Emil. 
I, I: oh lay me by my Mistress side.  Gra. 
he's gone, but his wife's killed.  Mon. 
'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon  
Which I have recovered 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.  Exit. Oth. 
I am not valiant neither:  
But every Puny whipster gets my Sword.  
But why should Honour outlive Honesty?  
Let it go all.  Aemil. 
What did thy Song bode Lady?  
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the Swan,  
And dye in Music: Willough, Willough, Willough.  
Moor, she was chaste: She loved thee, cruel Moor,  
So come my Soul to bliss, as I speak true:  
So speaking as I think, alas, I die.  Oth. 
I have another weapon in this Chamber,  
It was a Sword of Spain, the Ice brooks temper:  
Oh here it is: Uncle I must come forth.  Gra. 
If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear;  
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.  Oth. 
Look in upon me then, and speak with me,  
Or naked as I am I will assault thee.  Gra. 
What is the matter?  Othel. 
Behold, I have a weapon:  
A better never did itself sustain  
Upon a Soldiers Thigh. I have seen the day,  
That with this little Arm, and this good Sword,  
I have made my way through more impediments  
Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vain boast)  
Who can control his Fate? 'Tis not so now.  
Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed:  
here is my journey's end, here is my butt  
And very Sea-mark of my utmost Sail.  
Do you go back dismayed? '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? Oh ill-starred wench,  
Pale as thy Smock: when we shall meet at count,  
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, 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 steepe-downe gulfs of Liquid fire.  
Oh Desdemona! dead Desdemona: dead. Oh, oh!  Enter Lodovico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers. Lod. 
Where is this rash, and most unfortunate man?  Oth. 
That's he that was Othello: here I am.  Lod. 
Where is that Viper?  
Bring the Villain forth.  Oth. 
I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable,  
If that thou be'st a Devil, I cannot kill thee.  Lod. 
Wrench his Sword from him.  jago. 
I bleed Sir, but not killed.  Othel. 
I am not sorry neither, I'd have thee live:  
For in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.  Lod. 
Oh thou Othello, that was once so good,  
Fallen in the practice of a cursed Slave,  
What shall be said to thee.  Oth. 
Why any thing:  
An honourable Murderer, if you will:  
For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour.  Lod. 
This wretch hath part confessed his Villainy:  
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death.  Oth. 
I.  Cas. 
Dear General, I never gave you cause.  Oth. 
I do believe it, and I ask your pardon:  
Will you, I pray, demand that demy-divell,  
Why he hath thus ensnared my Soul and Body.  jag. 
Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:  
From this time forth, I never will speak word.  Lod. 
What? not to pray?  Gra. 
Torments will open your lips.  Oth. 
Well, thou dost best.  Lod. 
Sir,  
You shall understand what hath befallen,  
(Which, as I think, you know not) here is a Letter  
Found in the pocket of the slain Rodorigo,  
And here another, the one of them imports  
The death of Cassio, to be undertook  
By Rodorigo.  Oth. 
O Villain!  Cassio. 
Most Heathenish, and most gross.  Lod. 
Now, here's another discontented paper  
Found in his pocket too: and this it seems  
Rodorigo meant t' have sent this damned villain:  
But that (belike) jago in the interim  
Came in, and satisfied him.  Oth. 
Oh thou pernicious Caitiff;  
How came you (Cassio) by that Handkerchief  
That was my wives?  Cassio. 
I found it in my Chamber:  
And he himself confessed it but even now,  
That there he dropped it for a special purpose,  
Which wrought to his desire.  Othel. 
O Fool, fool, fool!  Cassio. 
There is besides, in Rodorigo's Letter,  
How he upbraids jago, that he made him  
Brave me upon the Watch: whereon it came  
That I was cast: and even but now he spoke  
(After long seeming dead) Iago hurt him,  
Iago set him on.  Lod. 
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 away.  Oth. 
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,  
Perplexed in the extreme: Of one, whose hand  
(Like the base judean) threw a Pearl away  
Richer than all his Tribe: Of one, whose subdued Eyes,  
Albeit un-used to the melting mood,  
Drops tears as fast as the Arabian Trees  
Their Medicinable gum. Set you down this:  
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,  
Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke  
Beat a Venetian, and traduced the State,  
I took by th' throat the circumcised Dog,  
And smoate him, thus.  Lod. 
Oh bloody period.  Gra. 
All that is spoke, is marred.  Oth. 
I kissed thee, ere I killed thee: No way but this,  
Killing myself, to dye upon a kiss.  Cas. 
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon:  
For he was great of heart.  Lod. 
Oh Sparton Dog:  
More fell than Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea:  
Look on the Tragic Loading of this bed:  
This is thy work:  
The Object poison's 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, oh enforce it:  
Myself will strait aboard, and to the State,  
This heavy Act, with heavy heart relate.  Exeunt.  
FINIS.   

The Names of the Actors.  

OThello, the Moor.  
Brabantio, Father to Desdemona.  
Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant.  
Iago, a Villain.  
Rodorigo, a gulled Gentleman.  
Duke of Venice.   

Senators.  
Montano, Governor of Cyprus.  
Gentlemen of Cyprus.  
Lodovico and Gratiano, two Noble Venetians.  
Saylors.  
Clown.   

Desdemona, Wife to Othello.  
Aemilia, Wife to jago.  
Bianca, a Courtesan.     

THE TRAGEDY OF Anthony, and Cleopatra.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  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 glowed 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, reneages all temper,  
And is become the Bellowes and the Fan  
To cool a Gypsies Lust.  Flourish. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra her Ladies, the Train, with Eunuches fanning her. 
Look where they come:  
Take but good note, and you shall see in him  
(The triple Pillar of the world) transformed  
Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see.  Cleo. 
If it be Love indeed, tell me how much.  Ant. 
There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned  Cleo. 
I'll set a bourn how fare to be beloved.  Ant. 
Then must thou needs find our new Heaven, new Earth.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
News (my good Lord) from Rome.  Ant. 
Grates me, the sum.  Cleo. 
Nay hear them Anthony.  
Fulvia perchance is angry: Or who knows,  
If the scarse-bearded Caesar have not sent  
His powerful Mandate to you. Do this, or this;  
Take in that Kingdom, and Infranchise that:  
Performed, or else we damn thee.  Ant. 
How, my Love?  Cleo. 
Perchance? Nay, and most like:  
You must not stay here longer, your dismission  
Is come from Caesar, therefore hear it Anthony.  
Where's Fuluias' Process? (Caesar's I would say) both?  
Call in the Messengers: As I am Egypt's Queen,  
Thou blushest Anthony, and that blood of thine  
Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame,  
When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The Messengers.  Ant. 
Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide Arch  
Of the ranged Empire fall: here is my space,  
Kingdoms are clay: Our dungie earth alike  
Feeds Beast as Man; the Nobleness of life  
Is to do thus: when such a mutual pair,  
And such a twain can do't in which I bind  
One pain of punishment, the world to weet  
We stand up Peerless.  Cleo. 
Excellent falsehood:  
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?  
I'll seem the Fool I am not. Anthony will be himself.  Ant. 
But stirred 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 to night?  Cleo. 
Hear the Ambassadors.  Ant. 
Fie wrangling Queen:  
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,  
To weep: who 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 with the Train. Dem. 
Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight?  Philo. 
Sir sometimes when he is not Anthony,  
He comes too short of that great Property  
Which still should go with Anthony.  Dem. 
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 Enter Enobarbus, Lamprius, a Soothsayer, Rannius, lucilius, Charmian, Iras, Mardian the Eunuch, and Alexas. Char. 
L. Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the Soothsayer that you praised so to ' th' Queen? Oh that I known this Husband, which you say, must change his Horns with Garlands.  Alex. 
Soothsayer.  Sooth. 
Your will?  Char. 
Is this the Man? Is't you sir that know things?  Sooth. 
In Nature's infinite book of Secrecy, a little I can read.  Alex. 
Show him your hand.  Enob. 
Bring in the Banquet quickly: Wine enough,  
Cleopatra's health to drink.  Char. 
Good sir, give me good Fortune.  Sooth. 
I make not, but foresee.  Char. 
Pray then, foresee me one.  Sooth. 
You shall be yet fare fairer than you are.  Char. 
He means in flesh.  Iras. 
No, you shall paint when you are old.  Char. 
Wrinkles forbidden.  Alex. 
Vex not his prescience, be attentive.  Char. 
Hush.  Sooth. 
You shall be more beloving, then beloved.  Char. 
I had rather heat my Liver with drinking.  Alex. 
Nay, hear him.  Char. 
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 Herode of jewry may do Homage. Find me to marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion me with my Mistress.  Sooth. 
You shall outlive the Lady whom you serve.  Char. 
Oh excellent, I love long life better than Figs.  Sooth. 
You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune, then that which is to approach.  Char. 
Then belike my Children shall have no names:  
Prithee how many Boys and Wenches must I have.  Sooth. 
If every of your wishes had a womb, & foretell every wish, a Million.  Char. 
Out Fool, I forgive thee for a Witch.  Alex. 
You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.  Char. 
Nay come, tell Iras hers.  Alex. 
we'll know all our Fortunes.  Enob. 
Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, shall be drunk to bed.  Iras. 
There's a Palm presages Chastity, if nothing else.  Char. 
E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth Famine.  Iras. 
Go you wild Bedfellow, you cannot Soothsay.  Char. 
Nay, if an oily Palm be not a fruitful Prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee tell her but a worky day Fortune.  Sooth. 
Your Fortunes are alike.  Iras. 
But how, but how, give me particulars.  Sooth. 
I have said.  Iras. 
Am I not an inch of Fortune better than she?  Char. 
Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I: where would you choose it.  Iras. 
Not in my Husband's nose.  Char. 
Our worse thoughts Heavens mend.  Alexas. 
Come, his Fortune, his Fortune. Oh let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her dye too, and give him a worse, and let worse 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 heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wiued, so it is a deadly sorrow, to behold a foul Knave uncuckolded: Therefore dear Isis keep decorum, and Fortune him accordingly.  Char. 
Amen.  Alex. 
Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a Cuckold, they would make themselves Whores, but they'd do't.  Enter Cleopatra. Enob. 
Hush, here comes Anthony.  Char. 
Not he, the Queen.  Cleo. 
Save you, my Lord.  Enob. 
No Lady.  Cleo. 
Was he not here?  Char. 
No Madam.  Cleo. 
He was disposed to mirth, but on the sudden  
A Roman thought hath strooke him.  
Enobarbus?  Enob. 
Madam.  Cleo. 
Seek him, and bring him hither: where's Alexias?  Alex. 
here at your service.  
My Lord approaches.  Enter Anthony, with a Messenger. Cleo. 
We will not look upon him:  
Go with us.  Exeunt. Messen. 
Fulvia thy Wife,  
First came into the Field.  Ant. 
Against my Brother Lucius?  Messen. 
I: but soon that War had end,  
And the times state  
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar,  
Whose better issue in the war from Italy,  
Upon the first encounter drove them.  Ant. 
Well, what worst.  Mess. 
The Nature of bad news infects the Teller.  Ant. 
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 flattered.  Mes. 
Labienus (this is stiffe-newes)  
Hath with his Parthian Force  
Extended Asia: from Euphrates his conquering  
Banner shaken, from Syria to Lydia,  
And to jonia, whilst—  Ant. 
Anthony thou wouldst say.  Mes. 
Oh my Lord.  Ant. 
Speak to me home,  
Mince not the general tongue, name  
Cleopatra as she is called in Rome:  
Rail thou in Fuluia's phrase, and taunt my faults  
With such full Licence, as both Truth and Malice  
Have power to utter. Oh than we forth weeds,  
When our quick winds lie still, and our ills told us  
Is as our ear-ring: far thee well awhlle.  Mes. 
At your Noble pleasure.  Exit Messenger. Enter another Messenger. Ant. 
From Scition how the news? Speak there.  1. Mes. 
The man from Scition,  
Is there such an one?  2. Mes. 
He stays upon your will.  Ant. 
Let him appear:  
These strong Egyptian Fetters I must break,  
Or lose myself in dotage.  Enter another Messenger with a Letter. 
What are you?  3. Mes. 
Fulvia thy wife is dead.  Ant. 
Where died she.  Mes. 
In Scition, her length of sickness,  
With what else more serious,  
Importeth thee to know, this bears.  Antho. 
Forbear me  
There's a great Spirit gone, thus did I desire it:  
What our contempts doth of ten hurl from us,  
We with 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 should her on.  
I must from this enchanting Queen break off,  
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know  
My idleness doth hatch.  Enter Enobarbus. 
How now Enobarbus.  Eno. 
What's your pleasure, Sir?  Anth. 
I must with haste from hence.  Eno. 
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.  Ant. 
I must be gone.  Eno. 
Under a compelling an 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, 〈◊〉 instantly: I have seen her dye twenty times upon fa●●orer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which smits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.  Ant. 
She is cunning past man's thought.  Eno. 
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.  Ant. 
Would I had never seen her.  Eno. 
Oh sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your Travail.  Ant. 
Fulvia is dead.  Eno. 
Sir.  Ant. 
Fulvia is dead.  Eno. 
Fulvia?  Ant. 
Dead.  Eno. 
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.  Ant. 
The business she hath broached in the State,  
Cannot endure my absence.  Eno. 
And the business you have broached here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.  Ant. 
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 love 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  
Have given the dare to Caesar, and commands  
The Empire of the Sea. Our slippery people,  
Whose Love is never linked 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' th' world may danger. Much is breeding,  
Which like the Courser's heir, hath yet but life,  
And not a Serpent's poison. Say our pleasure,  
To such whose places under us, require  
Our quick remove from hence.  Enob. 
I shall do't.  Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras. Cleo. 
Where is he?  Char. 
I did not see him since.  Cleo. 
See where he is,  
Whose 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.  Char. 
Madam, me thinks if you did love him dear,  
You do not hold the method, to enforce  
The like from him.  Cleo. 
What should I do, I do not?  Ch. 
In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.  Cleo. 
Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him.  Char. 
Tempt him not so too fare. I wish forbear,  
In time we hate that which we often fear.  Enter Anthony. 
But here comes Anthony.  Cleo. 
I am sick, and sullen.  An. 
I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose.  Cleo. 
Help me away dear Charmian, I shall fall,  
It cannot be thus long, the sides of Nature  
Will not sustain it.  Ant. 
Now my dearest Queen.  Cleo. 
Pray you stand farther from me.  Ant. 
What's the matter?  Cleo. 
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.  Ant. 
The Gods best know.  Cleo. 
Oh never was there Queen  
So mightily betrayed: yet at the first  
I saw the Treasons planted.  Ant. 
Cleopatra.  Cleo. 
Why should I think you can be mine, & true,  
(Though you in swearing shake the Throaned Gods)  
Who have been false to Fulvia?  
Riotous madness,  
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,  
Which break themselves in swearing.  Ant. 
Most sweet Queen.  Cleo. 
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 bend: none our parts so poor,  
But was a race of Heaven. They are so still,  
Or thou the greatest Soldier of the world,  
Art turned the greatest liar.  Ant. 
How now Lady?  Cleo. 
I would I had thy inches, thou shouldst know  
There were a heart in Egypt.  Ant. 
Hear me Queen:  
The strong necessity of Time, commands  
Our Seruicles 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 condemned 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 Fuluias' death.  Cleo. 
Though age from folly could not give me freedom  
It does from childishness. Can Fulvia dye?  Ant. 
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.  Cleo. 
O most false Love!  
Where be the Sacred Viols thou shouldst fill  
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,  
In Fuluias' death, how mine received shall be.  Ant. 
Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know  
The purposes I bear: which are, or cease,  
As you shall give th' advice. By the fire  
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence  
Thy Soldier, Servant, making Peace or War,  
As thou affects.  Cleo. 
Cut my Lace, Charmian come,  
But let it be, I am quickly ill, and well,  
So Anthony love's.  Ant. 
My precious Queen forbear,  
And give true evidence to his Love, which stands  
An honourable Trial.  Cleo. 
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  
Like perfect Honor.  Ant. 
You'll heat my blood no more?  Cleo. 
You can do better yet: but this is meetly.  Ant. 
Now by Sword.  Cleo. 
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.  Ant. 
I'll leave you Lady.  Cleo. 
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:  
Oh, my Oblivion is a very Anthony,  
And I am all forgotten.  Ant. 
But that your Royalty  
Holds Idleness your subject, I should take you  
For Idleness itself.  Cleo. 
'Tis sweeting Labour,  
To bear such Idleness so near the heart  
As Cleopatra this. But Sir, forgive me,  
Since my becommings 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  
Sat Laurel victory, and smooth success  
Be strewed before your feet.  Ant. 
Let us go.  
Come: Our separation so abides and flies,  
That thou reciding here, goes yet with me;  
And I hence fleeting, here remain with thee.  
Away.  Exeunt. Enter Octavius reading a Letter, Lepidus, and their Train. Caes. 
You may see Lepidus, and henceforth know,  
It is not Caesar's Natural vice, to hate  
One great Competitor. From Alexandria  
This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes  
The Lamps of night in revel: Is not more manlike  
Than Cleopatra: nor the Queen of Ptolemy  
More Womanly than he. Hardly gave audience  
Or vouchsafe to think he had Partners. You  
Shall find there a man, who is th' abstracts of all faults,  
That all men follow.  Lep. 
I must not think  
There are, evils enough 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.  Caes. 
You are too indulgent. Let's 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 smells of sweat: Say this become him  
(As his composure must be rare indeed,  
Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Anthony  
No way excuse his foils, when we do bear  
So great weight in his lightness. If he filled  
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 judgement.  Enter a Messenger. Lep. 
here's more news.  Mes. 
Thy bid have been done, & 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 feared Caesar: to the Ports  
The discontents repair, and men's reports  
Give him much wronged.  Caes. 
I should have known no less,  
It hath been taught us from the primall state  
That he which is was wished, until he were:  
And the ebbed man,  
ne'er loved, till ne'er worth love,  
Comes feared, by being lacked. This common body,  
Like to a Vagabond Flag upon the Stream,  
Goes too, and back, lacking the varrying tied  
To rot itself with motion.  Mes. 
Caesar I bring thee word,  
Menacrates and Menas famous Pirates  
Makes 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.  Caesar. 
Anthony,  
Leave thy lascivious Vassals. When thou once  
Was beaten from Medena, where thou slew'st  
Hirtius, and Pausa Consuls, at thy heel  
Did Famine follow, whom thou foughtest against,  
(Though daintily brought up) with patience more  
Than Savages could suffer. Thou didst drink  
The stolen of Horses, and the gilded Puddle  
Which Beasts would cough at. Thy palate them did deign  
The roughest Berry, on the rudest Hedge.  
Yea, like the Stag, when Snow the Pasture sheets,  
The barks of Trees thou browsed. On the Alpes,  
It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,  
Which some did dye 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 lanked not.  Lep. 
'Tis pity of him.  Caes. 
Let his shames quickly  
Drive him to Rome, 'tis time we twain  
Did show ourselves i' th' Field, and to that end▪  
Assemble me immediate counsel, Pompey  
Thrives in our Idleness.  Lep. 
To morrow Caesar,  
I shall be furnished to inform you rightly  
Both what by Sea and Land I can be able  
To front this present time.  Caes. 
Till which encounter, it is my business too. Farewell.  Lep. 
Farewell my Lord, what you shall know mean time  
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you Sir  
To let me be partaker.  Caesar. 
Doubt not sir, I knew it for my Bond.  Exeunt Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, & Mardian. Cleo. 
Charmian.  Char. 
Madam.  Cleo. 
Ha', ha', give me to drink Mandragora.  Char. 
Why Madam?  Cleo. 
That I might sleep out this great gap of time:  
My Anthony is away.  Char. 
You think of him too much.  Cleo. 
O 'tis Treason.  Char. 
Madam, I trust not so.  Cleo. 
Thou, Eunuch Mardian?  Mar. 
What's your Highness' pleasure?  Cleo. 
Not now to hear thee sing. I take no pleasure  
In aught an Eunuch has: 'tis well for thee,  
That being vnseminared, thy freer thoughts  
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections?  Mar. 
Yes gracious Madam.  Cleo. 
Indeed?  Mar. 
Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing  
But what in deed is honest to be done:  
Yet have I fierce Affections, and think  
What Venus did with Mars.  Cleo. 
Oh Charmion:  
Where thinkest thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?  
Or does he walk? Or is he on his Horse?  
Oh happy horse to bear the weight of Anthony!  
Do bravely Horse, for wotest thou whom thou movest,  
The demi Atlas of this Earth, the Arm  
And Burganet 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 was't 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 dye  
With looking on his life.  Enter Alexas from Caesar. Alex. 
Sovereign of Egypt, hail.  Cleo. 
How much unlike art thou Mark Anthony?  
Yet coming from him, that great Medicine hath  
With his Tinct gilded thee.  
How goes it with my brave Mark Anthony?  Alex. 
Last thing he did (dear Queen)  
He kissed the last of many doubled kisses  
This Orient Pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.  Cleo. 
Mine ear must pluck it thence.  Alex. 
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 Arme-gaunt Steed,  
Who neighed so hie, that what I would have spoke,  
Was beastly dumb by him.  Cleo. 
What was he sad, or merry?  Alex. 
Like to the time o' th' year, between the extremes  
Of hot and cold, he was nor sad▪ nor merry.  Cleo. 
Oh 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 seemed to tell them, his remembrance lay  
In Egypt with his joy, but between both.  
Oh heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad, or merry,  
The violence of either thee becomes,  
So does it no man's else. Mettest thou my Posts?  Alex. 
I Madam, twenty several Messengers.  
Why do you send so thick?  Cleo. 
Who's borne that day, when I forget to send to Anthony, shall dye a Beggar. Ink and paper Charmian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, ever love Caesar so?  Char. 
Oh that brave Caesar!  Cleo. 
Be choked with such another Emphasis,  
Say the brave Anthony.  Char. 
The valiant Caesar.  Cleo. 
By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,  
If thou with Caesar Parago nagaine:  
My man of men.  Char. 
By your most gracious pardon,  
I sing but after you.  Cleo. 
My Salad days,  
When I was green in judgement, 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 Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner. Pom. 
If the great Gods be just, they shall assist  
The deeds of justest men.  Mene. 
Know worthy Pompey, that what they do delay, they not deny.  Pom. 
Whiles we are suitors to their Throne, decays the thing we sue for.  Mene. 
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.  Pom. 
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 ' th' full. Mark Anthony  
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 flattered: but he neither loves,  
Nor either cares for him.  Mene. 
Caesar and Lepidus are in the field,  
A mighty strength they carry.  Pom. 
Where have you this? 'Tis false.  Mene. 
From Siluius, Sir.  Pom. 
He dreams: I know they are in Rome together  
Looking for Anthony: but all the charms of Love,  
Salt Cleopatra soften thy wand 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 cloylesse sauce his Appetite,  
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his Honour,  
Even till a Lethied dulness—  Enter Varrius. 
How now Varrius?  Var. 
This is most certain, that I shall deliver:  
Mark Anthony is every hour in Rome  
Expected. Since he went from Egypt, 'tis  
A space for farther Travail.  Pom. 
I could have given less matter  
A better ear. Menas, I did not think  
This amorous Surfeiter would have donned 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 near Lust-wearied Anthony.  Mene. 
I cannot hope,  
Caesar and Anthony shall well greet together;  
His Wife that's dead, did trespasses to Caesar,  
His Brother waned upon him, although I think  
Not moved by Anthony.  Pom. 
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. Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus. Lep. 
Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,  
And shall become you well, to entreat your Captain  
To soft and gentle speech.  Enob. 
I shall entreat him  
To answer like himself: if Caesar move him,  
Let Anthony look over Caesar's head,  
And speak as loud as Mars. By jupiter,  
Were I the wearer of Anthonio's Beard,  
I would not shaueed to day.  Lep. 
'Tis not a time for private stomacking.  Eno. 
Every time serves for the matter that is then borne in't.  Lep. 
But small to greater matters must give way.  Eno. 
Not if the small come first.  Lep. 
Your speech is passion: but pray you stir  
No Embers up. here comes the Noble Anthony.  Enter Anthony and Ventidius. Eno. 
And yonder Caesar.  Enter Caesar, Maecenas, and Agrippa. Ant. 
If we compose well here, to Parthia:  
Hark Ventidius.  Caesar. 
I do not know Maecenas, ask Agrippa.  Lep. 
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 curstne●e grow to ' th' matter.  Ant. 
'Tis spoken well:  
Were we before our Armies, and to fight,  
I should do thus.  Flourish. Caes. 
Welcome to Rome.  Ant. 
Thank you.  Caes. 
Sit.  Ant, 
Sat sir.  Caes. 
Nay then.  Ant. 
I learn, you take things ill, which are not so:  
Or being, concern you not.  Caes. 
I must be laughed at, if or for nothing, or a little, I  
Should say myself offended, and with you  
Chiefly i' th' world. More laughed at, that I should  
Once name you derogately: when to sound your name  
It not concerned me.  Ant. 
My being in Egypt Caesar, what was't to you?  Caes. 
No more than my reciding 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.  Ant. 
How intent you, practised?  Caes. 
You may be pleased to catch at mine intent,  
By what did here befall me. Your Wife and Brother  
Made wars upon me, and their contestation  
Was Theme for you, you were the word of war.  Ant. 
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 to make it with,  
It must not be with this.  Caes. 
You praise yourself, by laying defects of judgement to me: but you patched up your excuses.  Anth. 
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,  
Can 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'th' world is yours▪ which with a Snaffle,  
You may place easy, but not such a wife.  Enobar. 
Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to Wars with the women.  Anth. 
So much uncurbable, her Garboils (Caesar)  
Made out of her impatience: which not wanted  
Shrodenesse of policy to: I grieving grant,  
Did you too much disquiet, for that you must,  
But say I could not help it?  Caesar. 
I wrote to you, when rioting in Alexandria you  
Did pocket up my Letters: and with taunts  
Did gibe my Misi●e out of audience.  Ant. 
Sir, he fell upon me, ere admitted, then:  
Three Kings I had newly feasted, and did want  
Of what I was i' th' morning: but next day  
I told him of myself, which was as much  
As to have asked him pardon. Let this Fellow  
Be nothing of our strife: if we contend  
Out of our question wipe him.  Caesar. 
You have broken the Article of your oath, which you shall never have tongue to charge me with.  Lep. 
Soft Caesar.  Ant. 
No Lepidus, let him speak,  
The Honour is Sacred which he talks on now,  
Supposing that I lacked it: but on Caesar,  
The Article of my oath.  Caesar. 
To lend me Arms, and aid when I required them, the which you both denied.  Anth. 
Neglected rather:  
And then when poisoned 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 fare aske pardon, as befits mine Honour  
To stoop in such a case.  Lep. 
'Tis Noble spoken.  Mece. 
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.  Lep. 
Worthily spoken Maecenas.  Enobar. 
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.  Anth. 
Thou art a Soldier, only speak no more.  Enob. 
That truth should be silent, I had almost forgot.  Anth. 
You wrong this presence, therefore speak no more.  Enob. 
Go too then: your Considerate stone.  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 staunch from edge to edge  
A th' world: I would pursue it.  Agri. 
Give me leave Caesar.  Caesar. 
Speak Agrippa.  Agri. 
Thou hast a Sister by the Mother's side, admired  
Octavia. Great Mark Anthony is now a widower.  Caesar. 
Say not, say Agrippa; if Cleopater heard you, your proof were well deserved of rashness.  Anth. 
I am not married Caesar: let me here Agrippa further speak.  Agri. 
To hold you in perpetual amity,  
To make you Brothers, and to knit your hearts  
With an un-slipping knot, take Anthony,  
Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims  
No worse a husband then 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. Truth's would be tales,  
Where now half tales be truth's: 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.  Anth. 
Will Caesar speak?  Caesar. 
Not till he hears how Anthony is touched,  
With what is spoke already.  Anth. 
What power is in Agrippa,  
If I would say Agrippa, be it so,  
To make this good?  Caesar. 
The power of Caesar,  
And his power, unto Octavia.  Anth. 
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.  Caesar. 
There's 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.  Lepi. 
Happily, Amen.  Ant. 
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.  Lepi. 
Time calls upon's,  
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,  
Or else he seeks out us.  Anth. 
Where lies he?  Caesar. 
About the Mount-Mesena.  Anth. 
What is his strength by land?  Caesar. 
Great, and increasing:  
But by Sea he is an absolute Master.  Anth. 
So is the Fame,  
Would we had spoke together. Hast we for it,  
Yet ere we put ourselves in Arms, dispatch we  
The business we have talked of.  Caesar. 
With most gladness,  
And do invite you to my Sister's view,  
Whether strait I'll lead you.  Anth. 
Let us Lepidus not lack your company.  Lep. 
Noble Anthony, not sickness should detain me.  Flourish. Exit omnes. Manet Enobarbus, Agrippa, Maecenas. Mec. 
Welcome from Egypt Sir.  Eno. 
Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas. My honourable Friend Agrippa.  Agri. 
Good Enobarbus.  Mece. 
We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well digested: you stayed will by't in Egypt.  Enob. 
I Sir, we did sleep day out of countenance: and made the night light with drinking.  Mece. 
Eight Wilde-Boares roasted whole at a breakfast: and but twelve persons there. Is this true?  Eno. 
This was but as a Fly by an Eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of Feast, which worthily deserved noting.  Maecenas. 
She's a most triumphant Lady, if report be square to her.  Enob. 
When she first met Mark Anthony, she pursed up his heart upon the River of Sidnis.  Agri. 
There she appeared indeed: or my reporter devised well for her.  Eno. 
I will tell you,  
The Barge she sat in, like a burnished Throne  
Burnt on the water: the Poop was beaten Gold,  
Purple the Sails: and so perfumed that  
The Winds were Lovesick.  
With them the Owers 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 beggared all description, she did lie  
In her Pavilion, cloth of Gold, of Tissue,  
O're-picturing that Venns, where we see  
The fancy outwork Nature. On each side her,  
Stood pretty Dimpled Boys, like smiling Cupids,  
With diverse coloured Fans whose wind did seem,  
To glove the delicate cheeks which they did cool,  
And what they undid did.  Agrip. 
Oh rare for Anthony.  Eno. 
Her Gentlewoman, like the Nereids,  
So many Mermaids tended her i' th' eyes,  
And made their bends adorn. 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 Wharfes. The City cast  
Her people out upon her: and Anthony  
Enthroned i' th' Marketplace, did sit alone,  
Whistling to ' th' air: which but for vacancy,  
Had gone to gaze on Cleopater too,  
And made a gap in Nature.  Agri. 
Rare Egyptian.  Eno. 
Upon her landing, Anthony sent to her,  
Invited her to Supper: she replied,  
It should be better, he became her guest:  
Which she entreated, our Courteous Anthony,  
Whom ne'er the word of no woman hard speak,  
Being barbered ten times o'er, goes to the Feast;  
And for his ordinary, pays his heart,  
For what his eyes eat only.  Agri. 
Royal Wench:  
She made great Caesar lay his Sword to bed,  
He ploughed her, and she cropped.  Eno. 
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 breath forth.  Mece. 
Now Anthony, must leave her utterly.  Eno. 
Never he will not:  
Age cannot whither her, nor custom stolen  
Her infinite variety: other women cloy  
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry,  
Where most she satisfies. For vildest things  
Become themselves in her, that the holy Priests  
Bless her, when she is Riggish.  Mece 
If Beauty, Wisdom, Modesty, can settle  
The heart of Anthony: Octavia is  
A blessed Lottery to him.  Agrip. 
Let us go. Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest, whilst you abide here.  Eno. 
Humbly Sir I thank you.  Exeunt Enter Anthony, Caesar, Octavia between them. Anth. 
The world, and my great office, will  
Sometimes divide me from your bosom.  Octa. 
All which time, before the Gods my knee shall bow my ptayers to them for you.  Anth. 
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 th' Rule: good night dear Lady:  
Good night Sir.  Caesar. 
Good-night.  Exit. Enter Soothsaier. Anth. 
Now sirrah: you do wish yourself in Egypt?  Sooth. 
Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither.  Ant. 
If you can, your reason?  Sooth. 
I see it in my motion: have it not in my tongue,  
But yet hie you to Egypt again.  Antho. 
Say to me, whose Fortunes shall rise higher Caesar's or mine?  Sooth▪ 
Caesars, Therefore (oh Anthony) stay not by his side  
Thy Daemon that thy spirit which keeps thee, is  
Noble, Courageous, high unmatchable,  
Where Caesar's is not. But near him, ●hy Angel  
Becomes a fear: as being o're-powred, therefore  
Make space enough between you.  Anth. 
Speak this no more.  Sooth. 
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 Luster thickens,  
When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit  
Is all afraid to govern thee near him:  
But he always 'tis Noble.  Anth. 
Get thee gone:  
Say to Ventigius I would speak with him.  Exit. 
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 naught: and his Quails ever  
Beat mine (in hoop) at odds. I will to egypt:  
And though I make this marriage for my peace,  
I' th' East my pleasure lies. Oh come Ventigius.  Enter Ventigius. 
You must to Parthia, your Commissions ready:  
Fellow me, and reciueed.  Exeunt Enter Lepidus, Maecenas and Agrippa. Lepidus. 
Trouble yourselves no further: pray you hasten your Generals after.  Agr. 
Sir▪ Mark Anthony, will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.  Lepi. 
Till I shall see you in your Soldiers dress,  
Which will become you both: Farewell.  Mece. 
We shall: as I conceive the journey, be at Mount before you Lepidus.  Lepi. 
Your way is shorter, my purposes do draw me much about, you'll win two days upon me.  Both. 
Sir good success.  Lepi. 
Farewell.  Exeunt. Enter Cleopater, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. Cleo. 
Give me some Music: Music, moody food of us that trade in Love..  Omnes. 
The Music, hoa.  Enter Mardian the Eunuch. Cleo. 
Let it alone, let's to Billards: come Charmian.  Char. 
My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.  Cleopa. 
As well a woman with an Eunuch played, as with a woman. Come you'll play with me Sir?  Mardi. 
As well as I can Madam.  Cleo. 
And when good will is showed,  
Though't come to short  
The Actor may plead pardon. I'll none now,  
Give me mine Angle, we'll to ' th' River there  
My Music playing fare off. I will betray  
Tawny fine fishes, my bended hook shall pierce  
Their slimy jaws: and as I draw them up,  
I'll think them every one an Anthony,  
And say, ah ha'; ye are caught.  Char. 
'Twas merry when you wagered on your Angling, when your diver did hang a salt fish on his hook which he with fervency drew up.  Cleo. 
That time? Oh times:  
I laughed him out of patience: and that night  
I laughed 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 Phillippan. Oh from Italy,  Enter a Messenger. 
Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,  
That long time have been barren.  Mes. 
Madam, Madam.  Cleo. 
Anthonyo's 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 blewest veins to kiss: a hand that Kings  
Have lipped, and trembled kissing.  Mes. 
First Madam, he is well.  Cleo. 
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 power  
Down thy ill uttering throat.  Mes. 
Good Madam hear me.  Cleo. 
Well, go too I will:  
But there's no goodness in thy face if Anthony  
Be free and healthful; so tart a favour  
To trumpet such good tidings. If not well,  
Thou shouldst come like a Fury crowned with Snakes,  
Not like a formal man.  Mes. 
Wilt please you hear me?  Cleo. 
I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speakest:  
Yet if thou say Anthony life's, 'tis 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.  Mes. 
Madam, he's well.  Cleo. 
Well said.  Mes. 
And Friends with Caesar.  Cleo. 
The art an honest man.  Mes. 
Caesar, and he, are greater Friends than ever.  Cleo. 
Make thee a Fortune from me.  Mes. 
But yet Madam.  Cleo. 
I do not like but yet, it does allay  
The good precedence, fie upon but yet,  
By'r yet is as a jailor 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 sayest, and thou sayest, free.  Mes. 
Free Madam, no: I made no such report,  
He's bound unto Octavia.  Cleo. 
For what good turn?  Mes. 
For the best turn i' th' bed.  Cleo. 
I am pale Charmian.  Mes. 
Madam, he's married to Octavia.  Cleo. 
The most infectious Pestilence upon thee.  Strikes him down. Mes. 
Good Madam patience.  Cleo. 
What say you?  Strikes him. 
Hence horrible Villain, o●●le spurn thine eyes  
Like balls before me: I'll unhaire thy head,  She hales him up and down. 
Thou shalt be whipped with Wyer, and stewed in brine,  
Smarting in lingering pickle.  Mes. 
Gracious Madam,  
I that do bring the news, made not the match.  Cleo. 
Say 'tis not so, a Province I will give thee,  
And make thy Fortune's 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.  Mes. 
He's married Madam.  Cleo. 
Rogue, thou hast lived too long.  Draw a knife. Mes. 
Nay then I'll run:  
What mean you Madam, I have made no fault.  Exit. Char. 
Good Madam keep yourself within yourself,  
The man is innocent.  Cleo. 
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?  Char. 
He is afeard to come.  Cleo. 
I will not hurt him,  
These hands do lack Nobility, that they strike  
A meaner than myself: since I myself  
Have given myself the cause. Come hither Sir.  Enter the Messenger again. 
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.  Mes. 
I have done my duty.  Cleo. 
Is he married?  
I cannot hate thee worse than I do,  
If thou again say yes.  Mes. 
He's married Madam.  Cleo. 
The Gods confound thee,  
Dost thou hold there still?  Mes. 
Should I lie Madame?  Cleo. 
Oh, 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?  Mes. 
I crave your Highness' pardon.  Cleo. 
He is married?  Mes. 
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.  Cleo. 
Oh that his fault should make a knave of thee,  
That art not what the art 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.  Char. 
Good your Highness' patience.  Cleo. 
In praising Anthony, I have dispraised Caesar.  Char. 
Many times Madam.  Cleo. 
I am paid for't now: lead me from hence,  
I faint, oh 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,  
Let him for ever go, let him not Charmian,  
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,  
The other ways a Mars. Bid you Alexas  
Bring me word, how tall she is: pity me Charmian,  
But do not speak to me. Led me to my Chamber.  Exeunt. Flourish. Enter Pompey, at one door with Drum and Trumpet: at another Caesar, Lepidus', Anthony, Enobarbus, Maecenas, Agrippa, Menas with Soldiers Marching. Pom. 
Your Hostages I have, so have you mine:  
And we shall talk before we fight.  Caesar. 
Most meet that first we come to words,  
And therefore have we  
Our written purposes before us sent,  
Which if thou hast considered, let us know,  
If 'twill tie up thy discontented Sword,  
And carry back to Cicelie much tall youth,  
That else must perish here.  Pom. 
To you all three,  
The Senator's 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 Phillippi the good Brutus ghosted,  
There saw you labouring for him. What was't  
That moved pale Cassius to conspire? And what  
Made all-honored, honest, Roman Brutus,  
With the armed rest, Courtiers of beauteous freedom,  
To drench the Capitol, but that they would  
Have one man but a man, and that his it  
Hath made me rig my Navy. At whose burden,  
The angered Ocean foams, with which I meant  
To scourge th' ingratitude, that despiteful Rome  
Cast on my Noble Father.  Caesar. 
Take your time.  Ant. 
Thou canst not fear us Pompey with thy sails.  
we'll speak with thee at Sea. At land thou knowst  
How much we do o're-count thee.  Pom. 
At Land indeed  
Thou dost over count me of my Fatherrs house:  
But since the Cuckoo builds not for himself,  
Remain in't as thou mayst.  Lepi. 
Be pleased to tell us,  
(For this is from the present now you take)  
The offers we have sent you.  Caesar. 
There's the point.  Ant. 
Which do not be entreated too,  
But weigh what it is worth embraced  Caesar. 
And what may follow to try a larger Fortune.  Pom. 
You have made me offer  
Of Cicelie, Sardinia: and I must  
Rid all the Sea of Pirates. Then, to send  
Measures of Wheat to Rome: this greed upon,  
To part with unhackt edges, and bear back  
Our Targes undinted.  Omnes. 
That's our offer.  Pom. 
Know then I came before you here,  
A man prepared  
To take this offer. But Mark Anthony,  
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 Cicelie, and did find  
Her welcome Friendly.  Ant. 
I have heard it Pompey.  
And am well studied for a liberal thanks,  
Which I do own you.  Pom. 
Let me have your hand:  
I did not think Sir, to have met you here,  Ant. 
The beds i' th' East are soft, and thanks to you,  
That called me timelier than my purpose hither:  
For I have gamed by't.  Caesar. 
Since I saw you last, there's a change upon you.  Pom. 
Well, I know not,  
What counts harsh Fotune casts upon my face,  
But in my bosom shall she never come,  
To make my heart her vassal.  Lep. 
Well met here.  Pom. 
I hope so Lepidus, thus we are agreed:  
I crave our composion may be written  
And sealed between us,  Caesar. 
That's the next to do.  Pom. 
we'll feast each other, ere we part, and let's  
Draw lots who shall begin.  Ant. 
That will I Pompey.  Pompey. 
No Anthony take the lot: but first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery shall have the same, I have heard that julius Caesar, grew fat with feasting there.  Anth. 
You have heard much.  Pom. 
I have fair meaning Sir.  Ant. 
And fair words to them.  Pom. 
Then so much have I heard,  
And I have heard Appolodorus carried—  Eno. 
No more that: he did so.  Pom. 
What I pray you?  Eno. 
A certain Queen to Caesar in a Matris.  Pom. 
I know thee now, how farest thou Soldier?  Eno. 
Well, and well am like to do, for I perceive  
Four Feasts are toward.  Pom. 
Let me shake thy hand,  
I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight,  
When I have envied thy behaviour.  Enob. 
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.  Pom. 
Enjoy thy plainness,  
It nothing ill becomes thee:  
Aboard my Galley, I invite you all.  
Will you lead Lords?  All. 
Shows the way, sir.  Pom. 
Come.  Exeunt. Manet Enob. & Menas Men. 
Thy Father Pompey would ne'er have made this Treaty. You, and I have known sir.  Enob. 
At Sea, I think.  Men. 
We have Sir.  Enob. 
You have done well by water.  Men. 
And you by Land.  Enob. 
I will praise any man that will praise me, though it cannot be denied what I have done by Land.  Men. 
Nor what I have done by water.  Enob. 
Yes something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great Thief by Sea.  Men. 
And you by Land.  Enob. 
There I deny my Land service: but give me your hand Menas, if our eyes had authority, here they might take two Thiefs kissing.  Men. 
All men's faces are true, whatsomere their hands are.  Enob. 
But there is never a fair Woman, has a true Face.  Men. 
No slander, they steal hearts.  Enob. 
We came hither to fight with you.  Men. 
For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a Drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his Fortune.  Enob. 
If he do, sure he cannot weeped back again.  Men. 
YE have said Sir, we looked not for Mark Anthony here, pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?  Enob. 
Caesar's Sister is called Octavia.  Men. 
True Sir, she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.  Enob. 
But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.  Men. 
Pray' ye sir.  Enob. 
'Tis true.  Men. 
Then is Caesar and he, for ever knit together.  Enob. 
If I were bound to Divine of this unity, I would not Prophesy so.  Men. 
I think the policy of that purpose, made more i● the Marriage, than the love of the parties.  Enob. 
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.  Men. 
Who would not have his wife so?  Eno. 
Not he that himself is not so: which is Mark Anthony: 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. Anthony will use his affection where it is. He married but his occasion here.  Men. 
And thus it may be, Come Sir, will you aboard?  
I have a health for you.  Enob. 
I shall take it sir: we have used our Throats in Egypt.  Men. 
Come, let's away.  Exeunt. Music plays. Enter two or three Servants with a Banquet. 1 
here they'll be man: some o' th' their Plants are ill rooted already, the least wind i' th' world will blow them down.  2 
Lepidus is high Conlord.  1 
They have made him drink Alms drink.  2 
As they pinch one another by the disposition, he cries out, no more; reconciles them to his entreaty, and himself to ' th' drink.  1 
But it raises the greatet war between him & his discretion.  2 
Why this it is to have a name in great men's Fellowship: I had as live have a Reed that will do me no service, as a Partisan I could not heave.  1 
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 Caesar, Anthony, Pompey, Lepidus', Agrippa, Maecenas, Enobarbus, Menes, with other Captains. Ant. 
Thus do they Sir: they take the flow o' th' Nile  
By certain scales i' th' Pyramid: they know  
By ' th' height, the lowness, or the mean: If dearth  
Or Foizon 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.  Lep. 
YE have strange Serpents there?  Anth. 
I Lepidus.  Lep. 
Your Serpent of Egypt, is bred now of your mud by the operation of your Sun: so is your Crocodile.  Ant. 
They are so.  Pom. 
Sat, and some Wine: A health to Lepidus.  Lep. 
I am not so well as I should be:  
But I'll ne'er out.  Enob. 
Not till you have slept: I fear me you'll be in till then.  Lep. 
Nay certainly, I have heard the Ptolemy's Pyramisis are very goodly things: without contradiction I have heard that.  Menas. 
Pompey, a word.  Pomp. 
Say in mine ear, what is't.  Men. 
Forsake thy seat I do beseech thee Captain,  
And hear me speak a word.  Pom. 
Forbear me till anon.  Whispers in's Eare. 
This Wine for Lepidus.  Lep. 
What manner o' thing is your Crocodile?  Ant. 
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 it own organs. It life's by that which nourisheth it, and the Elements once out of it, it Transmigrates.  Lep. 
What colour is it of?  Ant. 
Of it own colour too.  Lep. 
'Tis a strange Serpent.  Ant. 
'Tis so, and the tears of it are wet.  Cas. 
Will this description satisfy him?  Ant. 
With the Health that Pompey gives him, else he is a very Epicure.  Pomp. 
Go hang sir, hang: tell me of that? Away:  
Do as I bid you. Where's this Cup I called for?  Men. 
If for the sake of Merit thou wilt hear me,  
Rise from thy stool.  Pom. 
I think th' art mad: the matter?  Men. 
I have ever held my cap off to thy Fortunes.  Pom. 
Thou hast served me with much faith: what's else to say? Be jolly Lords.  Anth. 
These Quicksands Lepidus,  
Keep off, them for you sink.  Men. 
Wilt thou be Lord of all the world?  Pom. 
What sayest thou?  Men. 
Wilt thou be Lord of the whole world?  
That's twice.  Pom. 
How should that be?  Men. 
But entertain it, and though thou think me poor. I am the man will give thee all the world.  Pom. 
Hast thou drunk well.  Men. 
No Pompey, I have kept me from the cup,  
Thou art if thou darest be, the earthly jove:  
What ere the Ocean pales, or sky inclippes,  
Is thine, if thou wilt have't.  Pom. 
Show me which way?  Men. 
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.  Pom. 
Ah, this thou shouldst have done,  
And not have spoke on't. In me 'tis villainy,  
In thee, it had been good service: thou must know,  
'Tis not my profit that does lead mine Honour:  
Mine Honour it, Repent that ere thy tongue,  
Hath so betrayed thine act. Being done unknown,  
I should have found it afterwards well done,  
But must condemn it now: desist, and drink.  Men. 
For this, I'll never follow  
Thy pauled Fortunes more,  
Who seeks and will not take, when once 'tis offered,  
Shall never find it more.  Pom. 
This health to Lepidus.  Ant. 
Bear him ashore,  
I'll pledge it for him Pompey.  Eno. 
here's to thee Menas.  Men. 
Enobarbus, welcome.  Pom. 
Fill till the cup be hid.  Eno. 
There's a strong Fellow Menas.  Men. 
Why?  Eno. 
A bears the third part of the world man: seest not?  Men. 
The third part, than he is drunk: would it were all, that it might go on wheels.  Eno. 
Drink thou: increase the Reels.  Men. 
Come.  Pom. 
This is not yet an Alexandrian Feast.  Ant. 
It ripen's towards it: strike the Vessels hoa.  
here's to Caesar.  Caesar. 
I could well forbeared, it's monstrous labour when I wash my brain, and it grow fouler.  Ant. 
Be a Child o' th' time.  Caesar. 
Possess it, I'll make answer: but I had rather fast from all, four days, then drink so much in one.  Enob. 
Ha' my brave Emperor, shall we dance now the Egyptian Backenals, and celebrate our drink?  Pom. 
Let's have't good Soldier.  Ant. 
Come, let's all take hands,  
Till that the conquering Wine hath steeped our sense,  
In soft and delicate Lethe.  Eno. 
All take hands:  
Make battery to our ears with the loud Music,  
The while, I'll place you, than the Boy shall sing.  
The holding every man shall beat as loud,  
As his strong sides can volley.  Music Plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand. 

The Song.  
Come thou Monarch of the Vine,  
Plumpie Bacchus, with pink eyen:  
In thy fats our Cares be drowned,  
With thy Grapes our hairs be Crowned.  
Cup us till the world go round,  
Cup us till the world go round.   Caesar. 
What would you more?  
Pompey good-night. Good Brother  
Let me request you of our graver business  
Frowns at this levity. Gentle Lords let's part,  
You see we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarbe  
Is weaker than the Wine, and mine own tongue  
Spleet's what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost  
Antickt us all. What needs more words? good-night.  
Good Anthony your hand.  Pom. 
I'll try you on the shore.  Anth. 
And shall Sir, gives your hand.  Pom. 
Oh Anthony, you have my Father house.  
But what, we are Friends?  
Come down into the Boate.  Eno. 
Take heed you fall not Menas: I'll not on shore,  
No to my Cabin: these Drums,  
These Trumpets, Flutes: what  
Let Neptune hear, we bid aloud farewell  
To these great Fellows. Sound and be hanged, sound out.  Sound a Flourish. with Drums. Enor. 
Hoo says a there's my Cap.  Men. 
Hoa, Noble Captain, come.  Exeunt. Enter Ventidius as it were in triumph, the dead body of Pacorus borne before him. Ven. 
Now darting Parthya art thou struck, and now  
Pleased Fortune does of Marcus Crassus death  
Make me revenger. Bear the King's Sons body,  
Before our Army, thy Pacorus Orades,  
Pays this for Marcus Crassus.  Roman. 
Noble Ventidius,  
Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy Sword is warm,  
The Fugitive Parthians follow. Spur through Media,  
Mesapotamia, and the shelters, whether  
The routed fly. So thy grand Captain Anthony  
Shall set thee on triumphant Chariots, and  
Put Garlands on thy head.  Ven. 
Oh Sillius, Sillius,  
I have done enough. A lower place note well  
May make too great an act. For learn this Sillius,  
Better to leave undone, then by our deed  
Acquire too high a Fame, when him we serves away.  
Caesar and Anthony 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 ' th' minute, lost his favour.  
Who does i' th' Wars more than his Captain can,  
Becomes his Captain's Captain: and Ambition  
(The Soldier's virtue) rather makes choice of loss  
Then gain, which darkens him.  
I could do more to do Antonius' good,  
But 'twould offend him. And in his offence,  
Should my performance perish.  Rom. 
Thou hast Ventidius that, without the which a Soldier and his Sword grants scarce distinction: thou wilt write to Anthony.  Ven. 
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 nere-yet beaten Horse of Parthia,  
We have jaded out o' th' Field.  Rom. 
Where is he now?  Ven. 
He purposeth to Athens, whither with what hast  
The weight we must convey with's, will permit:  
We shall appear before him. On there, pass along.  Exeunt. Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another. Agri. 
What are the Brothers parted?  Eno. 
They have dispatched 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.  Agri. 
'Tis a Noble Lepidus.  Eno. 
A very fine one: oh, how he love's Caesar.  Agri. 
Nay but how dearly he adores Mark Anthony.  Eno. 
Caesar? why he's the jupiter of men.  Ant. 
What's Anthony, the God of jupiter?  Eno. 
Spoke you of Caesar? How, the non-pareill?  Agri. 
Oh Anthony, oh thou Arabian Bird!  Eno. 
Would you praise Caesar, say Caesar go no further.  Agr. 
Indeed he plied them both with excellent praises.  Eno. 
But he love's Caesar best, yet he love's Anthony:  
Ho, Hearts, Tongues, Figure,  
Scribes, Bards, Poets, cannot  
Think speak, cast, writ, sing, number: ho,  
His love to Anthony. But as for Caesar,  
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.  Agri. 
Both he love's.  Eno. 
They are his Shards, and he their Beetle, so:  
This is to horse: Adieu, Noble Agrippa.  Agri. 
Good Fortune worthy Soldier, and farewell.  Enter Caesar, Anthony, Lepidus', and Octavia. Antho. 
No further Sir.  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 Anthony,  
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 cherished.  Ant. 
Make me not offended, in your distrust.  Caesar. 
I have said.  Ant. 
You shall not find,  
Though you be therein curious, the lest 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.  Caesar. 
Farewell my dearest Sister, far thee well,  
The Elements be kind to thee, and make  
Thy spirits all of comfort: far thee well.  Octa. 
My Noble Brother.  Anth. 
The Aprill's in her eyes, it is Love's spring,  
And these the showers to bring it on: be cheerful.  Octa. 
Sir▪ look well to my Husband's house: and—  Caesar 
What Octavia?  Octa. 
I'll tell you in your ear.  Ant. 
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can  
Her ●eart inform her tongue.  
The Swans down feather  
That stands upon the Swell at the full of Tide:  
And neither way inclines.  Eno. 
Will Caesar weep?  Agr. 
He has a cloud in's face.  Eno. 
He were the worse for that were he a Horse, so is he being a●man.  Agri. 
Why Enobarbus:  
When Anthony found julius Caesar dead,  
He cried almost to roaring: And he wept,  
When at Phillippi he found Brutus slain.  Eno. 
That year indeed, he was troubled with a rheum,  
What willingly he did confound, he wailed,  
Believe't till I weep too.  Caesar. 
No sweet Octavia,  
You shall hear from me still: the time shall not  
Outgo my thinking on you.  Ant. 
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.  Caesar. 
Adieu, be happy.  Lep. 
Let all the number of the Stars give light  
To thy fair way.  Caesar. 
Farewell, farewell.  Kisses Octavia. Ant. 
Farewell.  Trumpet's sound. Exeunt. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. Cleo. 
Where is the Fellow?  Alex. 
Half afeard to come.  Cleo. 
Go too, go too: Come hither Sir.  Enter the Messenger as before. Alex. 
Good Majesty: Herod of jury dare not look upon you, but when you are well pleased.  Cleo. 
That Herod's head, I'll have: but how? When Anthony is gone, through whom I might command it: Come thou near.  Mes. 
Most gracious Majesty.  Cleo. 
Didst thou behold Octavia?  Mes. 
I dread Queen.  Cleo. 
Where?  Mes. 
Madam in Rome, I looked her in the face: and saw her led between her Brother, and Mark Anthony.  Cleo. 
Is she as tall as me?  Mes. 
She is not Madam.  Cleo. 
Didst hear her speak?  
Is she shrill tongued or low?  Mes. 
Madam, I heard her speak, she is low voiced.  Cleo. 
That's not so good: he cannot like her long.  Char. 
Like her? Oh Isis: 'tis impossible.  Cleo. 
I think so Charmian: dull of tongue, & dwarfish  
What Majesty is in her gate, remember  
If ere thou look'st on Majesty.  〈◊〉, Mes. 
She creeps: her motion, & her station are as one.  
She shows a body, rather than a life,  
A Statue, than a Breather.  Cleo. 
Is this certain?  Mes. 
Or I have no observance.  Cham 
Three in Egypt cannot make better note.  Cleo. 
He's very knowing, I do perceived,  
There's nothing in her yet.  
The Fellow has good judgement.  Char. 
Excellent.  Cleo. 
Guests at her years, I prithee.  Mess. 
Madam, she was a widow.  Cleo. 
Widow? Charmian, hark.  Mes. 
And I do think she's thirty.  Cle. 
Bearest thou her face in mind? is't long or round?  Mess. 
Round, even to faultiness.  Cleo. 
For the most part too, they are foolish that are so. Her hair what colour?  Mess. 
Brown Madam: and her forehead  
As low as she would wish it.  Cleo. 
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.  Char. 
A proper man.  Cleo. 
Indeed he is so: I repent me much  
That so I harried him. Why me think's by him,  
This Creature's no such thing.  Char. 
Nothing Madam.  Cleo. 
The man hath seen some Majesty, and should know.  Char. 
Hath he seen Majesty? Isis else defend: and serving you so long.  Cleopa. 
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.  Char. 
I warrant you Madam.  Exeunt. Enter Anthony and Octavia. Ant. 
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 then most narrow measure: lent me,  
When the best hint was given him: he not looked,  
Or did it from his teeth.  Octavi. 
Oh 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 will mock me presently,  
When I shall pray: Oh bless my Lord, and Husband,  
Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,  
Oh bless my Brother. Husband win, win Brother,  
Prays, and distroyes the prayer, no midway  
'Twixt these extremes at all.  Ant. 
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  
Then your so branchlesse. 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 soon haste,  
So your desires are yours.  Oct. 
Thanks to my Lord,  
The jove of power make me most weak, most weak,  
You reconciler: Wars 'twixt you twain would be,  
As if the world should cleave, and that slain men  
Should soader up the Rift.  Anth. 
When it appears to you where this gins,  
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 he's mind too.  Exeunt. Enter Enobarbus, and Erisychthon. Eno. 
How now Friend Eros?  Eros. 
there's strange News come Sir.  Eno. 
What man?  Ero. 
Caesar & Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey.  Eno. 
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.  Eno. 
Then would thou hadst a pair of chaps no more, and throw between them all the food thou hast, they'll grind the other. Where's Anthony?  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 murdered Pompey.  Eno. 
Our great Navies rigged.  Eros. 
For Italy and Caesar, more Domitius,  
My Lord desires you presently: my News  
I might have told hereafter.  Eno. 
'Twill be naught, but let it be: bring me to Anthony.  Eros. 
Come Sir,  Exeunt. Enter Agrippa, Maecenas, and Caesar. Caes. 
Contemning Rome he has done all this, & more  
In Alexandria: here's the manner of't:  
I' th' Market place on a Tribunal silvered,  
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 establishment of Egypt, made her  
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, absolute Queen.  Mece. 
This in the public eye?  Caesar. 
I' th' common show place, where they exercise,  
His Sons hither proclaimed the King of Kings,  
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia  
He gave to Alexander. To Ptolemy he assigned,  
Syria, Silicia, and Phoenetia: she  
In th' abiliments of the Goddess Isis  
That day appeared, and oft before gave audience,  
As 'tis reported so.  Mece. 
Let Rome be thus informed.  Agri. 
Who queasy with his insolence already,  
Will their good thoughts call from him  Caesar. 
The people knows it,  
And have now received his accusations.  Agri. 
Who does he accuse?  Caesar. 
Caesar, and that having in Cicilie  
Sextus Pompeius spoiled, we had not rated him  
His part o' th' Isle. Then does he say, he lent me  
Some shipping vnrestored. Lastly, he frets  
That Lepidus of the Triumpherate, should be deposed,  
And being that, we detain all his Revenue.  Agri. 
Sir, this should be answered.  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 conquered,  
I grant him part: but then in his Armenia,  
And other of his conquered Kingdoms, I demand the like  Mec. 
he'll never yield to that.  Caes. 
Nor must not then be yielded to in this.  Enter Octavia with her Train. Octa. 
Hail Caesar, and my L● hail most dear Caesar.  Caesar. 
That ever I should call thee Castaway.  Octa. 
You have not called me so, nor have you cause.  Caes. 
Why have you▪ stolen upon us thus? you come not  
Like Caesar's Sister, The wife of Anthony  
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 ' th' 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 vnloued: we should have met you  
By Sea, and Land, supplying every Stage  
With an augmented greeting.  Octa. 
Good my Lord,  
To come thus was I not constrained, but did it  
On my freewill. My Lord Mark Anthony,  
Hearing that you prepared for War, acquainted  
My grieved ear withal: whereon I begged  
His pardon for return.  Caes. 
Which soon he granted,  
Being an abstract between his Lust, and him.  Octa. 
Do not say so, my Lord.  Caes. 
I have eyes upon him,  
And his affairs come to me on the wind: where is he now?  Octa. 
My Lord, in Athens.  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' th' earth for War. He hath assembled,  
Bochus the King of Lybia, Archilaus  
Of Cappadocia, Philadelphos King  
Of Pap●lagonia: the Thracian King Adullas,  
King Mauchus of Arabia, King of Pont,  
Herod of jewry▪ Mithridates King  
Of Comagear, Polemen and Amintas,  
The Kings of Mede, and Licoania,  
With a more larger List of Sceptres.  Octa. 
Ay me most wretched,  
That have my heart parted betwixt two Friends,  
That does afflict each other.  Caes. 
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 vnbewayled 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, makes his Ministers  
Of us, and those that love you. Best of comfort,  
And ever welcome to us.  Agrip. 
Welcome Lady.  Mec. 
Welcome dear Madam,  
Each heart in Rome does love and pity you,  
Only th' adulterous Anthony, most large  
In his abominations, turns you off,  
And gives his potent Regiment to a Trull  
That noises it against us▪  Octa. 
Is it so sir?  Caes. 
Most certain: Sister welcome: pray you  
Be ever known to patience. My dearest Sister.  Exeunt Enter Cleopatra, and Enobarbus. Cleo. 
I will be even with thee, doubt it not.  Eno. 
But why, why, why?  Cleo. 
Thou hast forespoke my being in these wars,  
And sayest it it not fit.  Eno. 
Well: is it, is it.  Cleo. 
If not, denounced against us, why should not we be there in person.  Enob. 
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.  Cleo. 
What is't you say?  Enob. 
Your presence needs must puzzle Anthony,  
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.  Cleo. 
Sink Rome, and their tongues rot  
That speak against us. A Charge we bear i' th' War,  
And as the precedent of my Kingdom will  
Appear there for a man. Speak not against it,  
I will not stay behind.  Enter Anthony and Camidias'. Eno. 
Nay I have done, here comes the Emperor.  Ant. 
Is it not strange Camidius,  
That from Tarrentum, and Brandusium,  
He could so quickly cut the Ionian Sea,  
And take in Troine. You have heard on't (Sweet?)  Cleo. 
Celerity is never more admired,  
Then by the negligent.  Ant. 
A good rebuke,  
Which might have well becomed the best of men  
To taunt at slackness. Camidius, we  
Will fight with him by Sea.  Cleo. 
By Sea, what else?  Cam. 
Why will my Lord, do so?  Ant. 
For that he dares us too't.  Enob. 
So hath my Lord, dared him to single fight.  Cam. 
I, and to wage this Battle at Pharsalia,  
Where Caesar fought with Pompey. But these offers  
Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off,  
And so should you.  Enob. 
Your Ships are not well manned,  
Your Mariners are Militers, Reapers▪ people  
Ingroft by swift Impress. In Caesar's Fleet,  
Are those, that often have 'gainst Pompey fought,  
Their ships are you're, yours heavy: no disgrace  
Shall fall you for refusing him at Sea,  
Being prepared for Land.  Ant. 
By Sea, by Sea.  Eno. 
Most worthy Sir, you therein throw away  
The absolute Soldiership you have by Land,  
Distract your Army, which doth most consist  
Of Warre-markt-footmen, leave unexecuted  
Your own renowned knowledge, quite forgo  
The way which promises assurance, and  
Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard,  
From firm Security.  Ant. 
I'll fight at Sea.  Cleo. 
I have sixty Sails, Caesar none better.  Ant. 
Our overplus of shipping will we burn,  
And with the rest full manned, from th' head of Action  
Beat th' approaching Caesar. But if we fail,  
We then can do't at Land.  Enter a Messenger. 
Thy Business?  Mes. 
The News is true, my Lord, he is descried, Caesar has taken Toryne.  Ant, 
Can he be there in person? 'Tis impossible  
Strange, that his power should be. Camidius,  
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?  Soul. 
Oh Noble Emperor, do not fight by Sea,  
Trust not to rotten planks: Do you misdoubt  
This Sword, and these my Wounds; let th' Egyptians  
And the Phoenicians go a ducking: we  
Have used to conquer standing on the earth,  
And fight foot to foot.  Ant. 
Well, well, away.  exit Ant▪ Cleo▪ & Enob. Soul. 
By Hercules I think I am i' th' right.  Cam. 
Soldier thou art: but his whole action grows  
Not in the power on't: so our Leaders lead,  
And we are women's men.  Soul. 
You keep by Land the Legions and the Horse whole, do you not?  Ven. 
Marcus Octavius, Marcus justeus,  
Publicola, and Celius, are for Sea:  
But we keep whole by Land. This speed of Caesar's  
Carries beyond belief.  Soul. 
While he was yet in Rome.  
His power went out in such distractions,  
As beguiled all Spies.  Cam. 
Who's his Lieutenant, hear you?  Soul. 
They say, one Towrus.  Cam. 
Well, I know the man.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
The Emperor calls Camidius.  Cam. 
With News the times wit a Labour,  
And throws forth each minute, some.  exeunt Enter Caesar with his Army, marching. Caes. 
Towrus?  Tow. 
My Lord.  Caes. 
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.  exit. Enter Anthony, and Enobarbus. Ant. 
Set we our Squadrons on yond side o' th' Hill,  
In eye of Caesar's battle, from which place  
We may the number of the Ships behold,  
And so proceed accordingly.  exit. Camidius Marcheth with his Land Army one way over the stage, and Towrus the Lieutenant of Caesar the other way: After their going in, is heard the noise of a Sea fight. Alarm. Enter Enobarbus and Scarus. Eno. 
Naught, naught, all naught, I can behold no longer:  
Thantoniad, the Egyptian Admiral,  
With all their sixty fly, and turn the Rudder:  
To see't, mine eyes are blasted.  Enter Scarrus. Scar. 
Gods, & Goddesses, all the whole synod of them!  Eno. 
What's thy passion.  Scar. 
The greater Cantle of the world, is lost  
With very ignorance, we have kissed away  
Kingdoms, and Provinces.  Eno. 
How appears the Fight?  Scar. 
On our side, like the Tokened Pestilence,  
Where death is sure. Yond ribald Nag of Egypt,  
(Whom Leprosy o'ertake) i' th' midst o' th' fight,  
When vantage like a pair of Twins appeared  
Both as the same, or rather outs the elder;  
(The Breeze upon her) like a Cow in Inn,  
Hoists Sails, and flies.  Eno. 
That I beheld:  
Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not.  
Endure a further view.  Scar. 
She once being looft,  
The Noble ruin of her Magic, Anthony,  
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.  Enob. 
Alack, alack.  Enter Camidius. Cam. 
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:  
Oh his has given example for our flight,  
Most grossly by his own.  Enob. 
I, are you thereabouts? Why then goodnight indeed.  Cam. 
Toward Peloponnesus are they fled.  Scar. 
'Tis easy toot,  
And there I will attend what further comes.  Camid. 
To Caesar will I render  
My Legions and my Horse, six Kings already  
Show me the way of yielding.  Eno. 
I'll yet follow  
The wounded chance of Anthony, though my reason  
Sits in the wind against me.  Enter Anthony with Attendants. Ant. 
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.  Omnes. 
Fly? Not we.  Ant. 
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: Oh,  
I followed that I blush to look upon,  
My very haites 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 them be left  
Which leaves itself, to the Seaside strait way;  
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 Eros. Eros. 
Nay gentle Madam, to him, comfort him.  Iras. 
Do most dear Queen.  Char. 
Do, why, what else?  Cleo. 
Let me sit down: Oh juno.  Ant. 
No, no, no, no, no.  Eros. 
See you here, Sir?  Ant. 
Oh fie, fie, fie.  Char. 
Madam.  Iras. 
Madam, oh good Empress.  Eros. 
Sir, sir.  Ant. 
Yes my Lord, yes; he at Philippi kept  
His sword e'en like a dancer▪ while I strooke  
The lean and wrinkled Cassius, and 'twas I  
That the mad Brutus ended: he alone  
Dealt on Lieutenantry, and no practice had  
In the brave squares of War: yet now: no matter.  Cleo. 
Ah stand by.  Eros. 
The Queen my Lord, the Queen.  Iras. 
Go to him, Madam, speak to him,  
he's unqualited with very shame.  Cleo. 
Well then, sustain me: Oh.  Eros. 
Most Noble Sir arise, the Queen approaches,  
Her head's declined, and death will cease her, but  
Your comfort makes the rescue.  Ant. 
I have offended Reputation,  
A most unnoble swerving.  Eros. 
Sir, the Queen.  Ant. 
Oh whether hast thou lead me Egypt, see  
How I convey my shame, out of thine eyes,  
By looking back what I have left behind  
Stroyed in dishonour.  Cleo. 
Oh my Lord, my Lord.  
Forgive my fearful sails, I little thought  
You would have followed.  Ant. 
Egypt, thou knewest too well,  
My heart was to thy Rudder tied by ' th' strings,  
And thou shouldst stowe me after. O'er my spirit  
The full supremacy thou knewest, and that  
Thy beck, might from the bidding of the Gods  
Command me.  Cleo. 
Oh my pardon.  Ant. 
Now I must  
To the young man send humble Treaties, dodge  
And palter in the shifts of lownes, who  
With half the bulk o' th' world played 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.  Cleo. 
Pardon, pardon.  Antony's 
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 a 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 Enter Caesar, Agrippa, and Dollabello, with others. Caes. 
Let him appear that's come from Anthony.  
Know you him.  Dolla. 
Caesar, 'tis his Schoolmaster,  
An argument that he is plucked, when hither  
He sends so poor a Opinion of his Wing,  
Which had superfluous Kings for Messengers,  
Not many Moons gone by.  Enter Ambassador from Anthony. Caesar. 
Approach, and speak.  Amb. 
Such as I am, I come from Anthony:  
I was of late as petty to his ends,  
As is the Morn●-dew on the Myrtle leaf  
To his grand Sea.  Caes. 
Be't so, declare thine office.  Amb. 
Lord of his Fortunes he salutes thee, and  
Requires to live in Egypt, which not granted  
He Lessons his Requests, and to thee sues  
To let him breath 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 Ptolemy's for her heirs,  
Now hazarded to thy Grace.  Caes. 
For Anthony,  
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.  Amb. 
Fortune pursue thee.  Caes. 
Bring him through the Bands:  
To try thy Eloquence, now 'tis time, dispatch,  
From Anthony 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 touched Vestal. Try thy cunning Thidias,  
Make thine own Edict for thy pains, which we  
Will answer as a Law.  Thid. 
Caesar, I go.  Caesar. 
Observe how Anthony becomes his flaw,  
And what thou thinkest his very action speaks  
In every power that moves.  Thid. 
Caesar, I shall.  exeunt. Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, & Iras. Cleo. 
What shall we do, Enobarbus?  Eno. 
Think, and dye.  Cleo. 
Is Anthony, or we in fault for this?  Eno. 
Anthony 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 nicked 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 coarse your flying Flags,  
And leave his Navy gazing.  Cleo. 
Prithee peace.  Enter the Ambassador, with Anthony. Ant. 
Is that his answer?  Amb. 
I my Lord.  Ant. 
The Queen shall then have courtesy,  
So she will yield us up.  Am. 
He says so.  Antho. 
Let her know't. To the Boy Caesar send this grizzled head, and he will fill thy wishes to the brim,  
With Principalities.  Cleo. 
That head my Lord?  Ant. 
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 Cowards, whose Ministers would prevail  
Under the service of a Child, as soon  
As i' th' 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: Fellow me.  Eno. 
Yes like enough: hie battled Caesar will  
Vnstate his happiness, and be Staged to ' th' show  
Against a Sworder. I see men's judgements 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 judgement too.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
A Messenger from Caesar.  Cleo. 
What no more Ceremony? See my Women,  
Against the blown Rose may they stop their nose,  
That kneeled unto the Buds. Admit him sir.  Eno. 
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 fallen Lord,  
Does conquer him that did his Master conquer,  
And earns a place i' th' Story.  Enter Thidias. Cleo. 
Caesar's will.  Thid. 
Hear it apart.  Cleo. 
None but Friends: say boldly.  Thid. 
So haply are they Friends to Anthony.  Enob. 
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.  Thid. 
So. Thus then thou most renowned, Caesar entreats,  
Not to consider in what case thou standest  
Further than he is Caesar's.  Cleo. 
Go on, right Royal.  Thid. 
He knows that you embrace not Anthony  
As you did love, but as you feared him.  Cleo. 
Oh.  Thid. 
The scarres upon your Honour, therefore he  
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,  
Not as deserved.  Cleo. 
He is a God,  
And knows what is most right. Mine Honour  
Was not yielded, but conquered merely.  Eno. 
To be sure of that, I will ask Anthony.  
Sir, sir, thou art so leaky  
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for  
Thy dearest quit thee.  Exit Enob. Thid. 
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 Anthony,  
And put yourself under his shroud, the universal Landlord.  Cleo. 
What's your name?  Thid. 
My name is Thidias.  Cleo. 
Most kind Messenger,  
Say to great Caesar this in disputation,  
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.  Thid. 
'Tis your Noblest course:  
Wisdom and Fortune combatting 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.  Cleo. 
Your Caesar's Father oft,  
(When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in)  
Bestowed his lips on that unworthy place,  
As it reigned kisses.  Enter Anthony and Enobarbus. Ant. 
Favours? By jove that thunders. What art thou Fellow?  Thid. 
One that but performs  
The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest  
To have command obeyed.  Eno. 
You will be whipped.  Ant. 
Approach there: ah you Kite. Now Gods & devil's  
Authority melts from me of late. When I cried hoa,  
Like Boys unto a musse, Kings would start forth,  
And cry, your will. Have you no ears?  
I am Anthony yet. Take hence this jack, and whip him.  Enter a Servant. Eno. 
'Tis better playing with a Lion's whelp,  
Then with an old one dying.  Ant. 
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.  Thid. 
Mark Anthony.  Ant. 
Tug him away: being whipped  
Bring him again, the jack of Caesar's shall  
Bear us an arrant to him.  Exeunt with Thidius. 
You were half blasted ere I knew you: Ha'?  
Have I my pillow left unpressed in Rome,  
Forborn the getting of a lawful Race,  
And by a gem of women, to be abused  
By one that looks on Feeders?  Cleo. 
Good my Lord.  Ant. 
You have been a boggeler ever,  
But when we in our viciousness grow hard  
(Oh misery on't) the wise Gods seel our eyes  
In our own filth, drop our clear judgements, make us  
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut  
To our confusion.  Cleo. 
Oh, is't come to this?  Ant. 
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  
Unregistered in vulgar Fame, you have  
Luxuriously picked out. For I am sure,  
Though you can guess what Temperance should be,  
You know not what it is.  Cleo. 
Wherefore is this?  Ant. 
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 haltered neck, which does the Hangman thank,  
For being you're about him. Is he whipped?  Enter a Servant with Thidias. Ser. 
Sound, my Lord.  Antony's 
Cried he? and begged a Pardon?  Ser. 
He did ask favour.  Ant. 
If that thy Father live, let him repent  
Thou was't not made his daughter, and be thou sorry  
To follow Caesar in his Triumph, since  
Thou hast been whipped. 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 th' Abysm of hell. If he mislike,  
My speech, and what is done, tell him he has  
Hiparchus, my enfran●hed 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, be gone.  Exit Thid. Cleo. 
Have you done yet?  Ant. 
Alack our Terrene Moon is now Eclipsed,  
And it portends alone the fall of Anthony.  Cleo. 
I must stay his time?  Ant. 
To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes  
With one that ties his points.  Cleo. 
Not know me yet?  Ant. 
Coldhearted toward me?  Cleo. 
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 Caesarian smile,  
Till by degrees the memory of my womb,  
Together with my brave Egyptians all,  
By the discandering of this pelleted storm,  
Lie gravelesse, till the Flies and Gnats of Nile  
Have buried them for prey.  Ant. 
I am satisfied:  
Caesar sets down in Alexandria, where  
I will oppose his Fate. Our force by Land,  
Hath Nobly held, our severed Navy too  
Have knit again, and Fleet, threatening most Sealike.  
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.  Cleo. 
That's my brave Lord.  Ant. 
I will be trebble-sinewed, 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.  Cleo. 
It is my Birthday,  
I had thought t' have held it poor. But since my Lord  
Is Anthony again, I will be Cleopatra.  Ant. 
We will yet do well.  Cleo. 
Call all his Noble Captains to my Lord.  Ant. 
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. Eno. 
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 Ostrich; and I see still  
A diminution in our Captain's brain,  
Restores his heart; when valour prays in reason,  
It eats the Sword it fights with: I will seek  
Some way to leave him.  Exeunt. Enter Caesar, Agrippa, & Maecenas with his Army, Caesar reading a Letter. Caes. 
He calls me Boy, and chides as he had power  
To beat me out of Egypt. My Messenger  
He hath whipped with Rods, dares me to personal Combat.  
Caesar to Anthony: let the old Russian know,  
I have many other ways to dye: mean time]  
Laugh at his Challenge.  Mece. 
Caesar must think,  
When one so great gins 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.  Caes. 
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 Anthony but late,  
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,  
And Feast the Army, we have store to do't,  
And they have earned the waste. Poor Anthony.  Exeunt Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, with others. Ant. 
He will not fight with me, Domitian?  Eno. 
No?  Ant. 
Why should he not?  Eno. 
He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,  
He is twenty men to one.  Ant. 
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. Wilt thou fight well.  Eno. 
I'll strike, and cry, Take all.  Ant. 
Well said, come on:  
Call forth my Household Servants, let's to night  Enter 3 or 4 Servitors. 
Be bounteous at our Meal. 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.  Cleo. 
What means this?  Eno. 
'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots  
Out of the mind.  Ant. 
And thou art honest too:  
I wish I could be made so many men,  
And all of you clapped up together, in  
An Anthony: that I might do you service,  
So good as you have done.  Omnes. 
The Gods forbidden.  Ant. 
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 suffered my command.  Cleo. 
What does he mean?  Eno. 
To make his Followers weep.  Ant. 
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.  Eno. 
What mean you (Sir)  
To give them this discomfort? Look they weep,  
And I an Ass, am Onyon-eyed; for shame,  
Transform us not to women.  Ant. 
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 spoke 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,  
Then death, and Honor. Let's to Supper, come,  
And drown consideration.  Exeunt. Enter a Company of Soldiers. 1. Sol. 
Brother, good-night: to morrow is the day.  2. Sol. 
It will determine one way: Far you well.  
Herd you of nothing strange about the streets.  1 
Nothing: what news?  2 
Belike 'tis but a Rumour, good night to you.  1 
Well sir, good night.  They meet other Soldiers. 2 
Soldiers, have careful Watch.  1 
And you: Good-night, good-night.  They place themselves in every corner of the Stage. 2 
here we: and if to morrow  
Our Navy thrive, I have an absolute hope  
Our Landmen will stand up.  1 
'Tis a brave Army, and full of purpose.  Music of the Oboes is under the Stage. 2 
Peace, what noise?  1 
List list.  2 
Hark.  1 
Music i' th' Air.  3 
Under the earth.  4 
It signs well, does it not?  3 
No.  1 
Peace I say: What should this mean?  2 
'Tis the God Hercules, whom Anthony loved,  
Now leaves him.  1 
Walk, let's see if other Watchmen  
Do hear what we do?  2 
How now Masters?  Speak together. Omnes. 
How now? how now do you hear this?  1 
I, is't not strange?  3 
Do you hear Masters? Do you hear?  1 
Fellow the noise so fare as we have quarter.  
Let's see how it will give off.  Omnes. 
Content: 'Tis strange.  Exeunt. Enter Anthony and Cleopatra, with others. Ant. 
Eros, mine Armour Eros.  Cleo. 
Sleep a little.  Ant. 
No my Chuck. Eros, come mine Armour Eros.  Enter Erisychthon. 
Come good Fellow, put thine Iron on,  
If Fortune be not ours to day, it is  
Because we brave her. Come.  Cleo. 
Nay, I'll help too, Anthony.  
What's this for? Ah let be, let be, thou art  
The Armourer of my heart: False, false: This, this,  
Sooth-law I'll help: Thus it must be.  Ant. 
Well, well, we shall thrive now.  
Seest thou my good Fellow. Go, put on thy defences.  Eros. 
Briefly Sir.  Cleo. 
Is not this buckled well?  Ant. 
Rarely, rarely:  
He that vnbuckle● this, till we do please  
To daft for our Repose, shall hear a storm.  
Thou fumblest Eros, and my Queens a Squire  
More tied at this, than thou: Dispatch. O Love,  
That thou couldst see my Wars to day and knewest  
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 too't with delight.  Soul. 
A thousand Sir, early though't be, have on their  
Riveted trim, and at the Port expect you.  Shout. Trumpet's Flourish. Enter Captains, and Soldiers. Alex. 
The Morn is fair: Good morrow General.  All. 
Good morrow General.  Ant. 
'Tis well blown Lads.  
This Morning, like the spirit of a youth  
That means to be of note, gins betimes.  
So, so: Come give me that, this way, well-sed.  
Far thee well Dame, what ere becomes of me,  
This is a Soldiers kiss: rebukeable,  
And worthy shameful check it were, to stand  
On more Mechanic Compliment, I'll leave thee.  
Now like a man of Steel, you that will fight,  
Fellow me close, I'll bring you too't: Adieu.  Exeunt. Char. 
Please you retire to your Chamber?  Cleo. 
Led me:  
He goes forth gallantly: That he and Caesar might  
Determine this great War in single fight;  
Then Anthony; but now. Well on.  Exeunt Trumpets sound. Enter Anthony, and Erisychthon. Eros. 
The Gods make this a happy day to Anthony.  Ant. 
Would thou, & those thy scars had once prevailed  
To make me fight at Land.  Eros. 
Had'st thou done so,  
The Kings that have revolted, and the Soldier  
That has this morning left thee, would have still  
Followed thy heels.  Ant. 
Whos's gone this morning?  Eros. 
Who? one ever near thee, call for Enobarbus,  
He shall not hear thee, or from Caesar's Camp,  
Say I am none of thine.  Ant. 
What sayest thou?  Sold. 
Sir he is with Caesar.  Eros. 
Sir, his Chests and Treasure he has not with him.  Ant. 
Is he gone?  Sol. 
Most certain.  Ant. 
Go Eros, send his Treasure after, do it,  
Detain no jot I charge thee: writ to him,  
(I will subscribe) gentle adieus, and greetings;  
Say, that I wish he never find more cause  
To change a Master. Oh my Fortunes have  
Corrupted honest men. Dispatch Enobarbus.  Exit Flourish. Enter Agrippa, Caesar, with Enobarbus, and Dollabella. Caes. 
Go forth Agrippa, and begin the fight:  
Our will is Anthony ●e took alive:  
Make it so known.  Agrip. 
Caesar, I shall.  Caesar. 
The time of universal peace is near:  
Prove this a prosperous day, the three ●ook'd world  
Shall bear the Olive freely.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
Anthony is come into the Field.  Caes. 
Go charge Agrippa,  
Plant those that have revolted in the Vant,  
That Anthony may seem to spend his Fury  
Upon himself.  Exeunt. Enob. 
Alexas did revolt, and went to jewrij on  
Affairs of Anthony, there did dissuade  
Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar,  
And leave his Master Anthony. For this pains,  
Caesar hath hanged him: Camindius and the rest  
That fell away, have entertainment, but  
No honourable trust: I have done ill,  
Of which I do accuse myself so forely,  
That I will joy no more.  Enter a Soldier of Caesar's. Sol. 
Enobarbus, Anthony  
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.  Eno. 
I give it you.  Sol. 
Mock not Enobarbus,  
I tell you true: Best you saved the bringer  
Out of the host, I must attend mine Office,  
Or would have doneed myself. Your Emperor  
Continues still a jove.  Exit Enob. 
I am alone the Villain of the earth,  
And feel I am so most. Oh Anthony,  
Thou Mine of Bounty, how wouldst thou have paid  
My better service, when my turpitude  
Thou dost so Crown with Gold. This blows my hart,  
If swift thought break it not: a swifter means  
Shall out-strike thought, but thought will do't. I feel  
I fight against thee: No I will go seek  
Some Ditch, wherein to dye: the foulest best fits  
My latter part of life.  Exit. Alarm, Drums and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa. Agrip 
Retire, we have engaged ourselves too fare:  
Caesar himself has work, and our oppression  
Exceeds what we expected.  Exit. Alarms. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus wounded. Scar. 
O my brave Emperor, this is fought indeed,  
Had we done so at first, we had droven them home  
With clouts about their heads.  Far off. Ant. 
Thou bleedest apace.  Scar. 
I had a wound here that was like a T,  
But now 'tis made an H.  Ant. 
They do retire.  Scar. 
we'll beat 'em into Bench-holes, I have yet  
Room for six scotches more.  Enter Erisychthon. Eros. 
They are beaten Sir, and our advantage serves  
For a fair victory.  Scar. 
Let us score their backs,  
And snatch 'em up, as we take Hares behind,  
'Tis sport to maul a Runner.  Ant. 
I will reward thee  
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold  
For thy good valour. Come thee on.  Scar. 
I'll halt after.  Exeunt Alarm. Enter Anthony again in a March. Scarrus, with others. Ant. 
We have beat him to his Camp: Run one  
Before, & let the Queen know of our guests: 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 congealement from your wounds, and kiss  
The Honour'd-gashes whole.  Enter Cleopatra. 
Give me thy hand,  
To this great Fairy, I'll commend thy acts,  
Make her thankes bless thee. Oh thou day o' th' world,  
Chain mine armed neck, leap thou, Attire and all  
Through proof of Harness to my heart, and there  
Ride on the pants triumphing.  Cleo. 
Lord of Lords.  
Oh infinite Virtue, com'st thou smiling from▪  
The world's great snare uncaught.  Ant. 
Mine 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 savouring hand,  
Kiss it my Warrior: He hath fought to day,  
As if a God in hate of Mankind, had  
Destroyed in such a shape.  Cleo. 
I'll give thee Friend  
An Armour all of Gold: it was a Kings.  Ant. 
He has deserved it, were it Carbunkled  
Like holy Phoebus' Car. Give me thy hand,  
Through Alexandria make a jolly March,  
Bear our backed Targets, like the men that own 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 our rattling Tabourines,  
That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,  
Applauding our approach.  Exeunt. Enter a Centerie, and his Company, Enobarbus follows. Cent. 
If we be not relieved within this hour,  
We must return to ' th' Court of Guard: the night  
Is shiny, and they say, we shall embattle  
By ' th' second hour i' th' Morn.  1. Watch. 
This last day was a shrewd one too's.  Enob. 
Oh bear me witness night.  2 
What man is this?  1 
Stand close, and list him.  Enob. 
Be witness to me (O thou blessed Moon)  
When men revolted shall upon Record  
Bear hateful memory: poor Enobarbus did  
Before thy face repent.  Cent. 
Enobarbus?  2 
Peace: Hark further.  Enob. 
Oh Sovereign Mistress of true Melancholy,  
The poisonous damp of night dispunge 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. Oh Anthony,  
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:  
Oh Anthony! Oh Anthony!  1 
Let's speak to him.  Cent. 
Let's hear him, for the things he speaks  
May concern Caesar.  2 
Let's do so, but he sleeps.  Cent. 
Swoonds rather, for so bad a Prayer as his  
Was never yet for sleep.  1 
Go we to him.  2 
Awake sir, awake, speak to us.  1 
Hear you sir?  Cent. 
The hand of death hath reached him.  Drums afar off. 
Hark the Drums demurely wake the sleepers:  
Let us bear him to ' th' Court of Guard: he is of note:  
Our hour is fully out.  2 
Come on then, he may recover yet.  exeunt Enter Anthony and Scarrus, with their Army. Ant. 
Their preparation is to day by Sea,  
We please them not by Land.  Scar. 
For both, my Lord.  Ant. 
I would they'd fight i' th' Fire, or i' th' Air,  
we'd 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 Enter Caesar, and his Army. Caes. 
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. Alarm afar off, as at a Sea-fight. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus. Ant. 
Yet they are not joined:  
Where yond Pine does stand, I shall discover all.  
I'll bring thee word strait, how ' ris like to go.  exit. Scar. 
Swallows have built  
In Cleopatra's Sails their nests. The Auguries  
Say, they know not, they cannot tell, look grimly▪  
And dare not speak their knowledge. Anthony,  
Is valiant, and dejected, and by starts  
His fretted Fortunes give him hope and fear  
Of what he has, and has not.  Enter Anthony. Ant. 
All is lost:  
This fowl 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-turned 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, be gone.  
Oh Sun, thy uprise shall I see no more,  
Fortune, and Anthony part here, even here  
Do we shake hands? All come to this? The hearts  
That pannelled me at heels, to whom I gave  
Their wishes, do dis-Candie, melt their sweets  
On blossoming Caesar: And this Pine is barked,  
That ouertoped them all. Betrayed I am.  
Oh this false Soul of Egypt! this grave Charm,  
Whose eye becked forth my Wars, & called them home:  
Whose Bosom was my Crownet, my chief end,  
Like a right Gipsy, hath at fast and lose  
Beguiled me, to the very heart of loss.  
What Eros, Eros?  Enter Cleopatra. 
Ah, thou Spell! Avaunt.  Cleo. 
Why is my Lord enraged against his Love?  Ant. 
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,  
Fellow his Chariot, like the greatest spot  
Of all thy Sex. Most Monsterlike be shown  
For poorest Diminitives, for Dolts, and let  
Patiented Octavia, plough thy visage up  
With her prepared nails.  exit Cleopatra. 
'Tis well th' art gone,  
If it be well to live. But better 'twere  
Thou fellest into my fury, for one death  
Might have prevented many. Eros, hoa?  
The shirt of Nessus is upon me, teach me  
Alcides, thou mine Ancestor, thy rage.  
Let me lodge Licas on the horns o' th' Moon,  
And with those hands that grasped 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. Erisychthon hoa?  exit. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Mardian. Cleo. 
Help me my women: Oh he's more mad  
Than Telamonius for his Shield, the Boar of Thessaly  
Was never so embossed.  Char. 
To ' th' Monument, there lock yourself,  
And send him word you are dead:  
The Soul and Body rive not more in parting,  
Then greatness going off.  Cleo. 
To ' th' Monument:  
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself:  
Say, that the last I spoke was Anthony,  
And word it (prithee) piteously. Hence Mardian,  
And bring me how he takes my death to ' th' Monument.  Exeunt. Enter Anthony, and Erisychthon. Ant. 
Eros, thou yet beholdest me?  Eros. 
I Noble Lord.  Ant. 
Sometime we see a cloud that's Dragonish,  
A vapour sometime, like a Bear, or Lion,  
A toward Citadel, a pendant Rock,  
A forked Mountain, or blue Promontory  
W●h Trees upon't, that nod unto the world,  
And mock our eyes with Air.  
Thou hast seen these Signs,  
They are black Vespers Pageants.  Eros. 
I my Lord.  Ant. 
That which is now a Horse, even with a thought the Rack dislimes, and makes it indistinct  
As water is in water.  Eros. 
It does my Lord.  Ant. 
My good Knave Eros, now thy Captain is  
Even such a body: here I am Anthony,  
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 annexed unto't  
A Million more, (now lost:) she Erisychthon has  
Packed Cards with Caesar's, and false played my Glory  
Unto an Enemy's triumph.  
Nay, weep not gentle Eros, there is left us  
Ourselves to end ourselves.  Enter Mardian. 
Oh thy vild Lady, she has robbed me of my Sword.  Mar. 
No Anthony,  
My Mistress loved thee, and her Fortunes mingled  
With thine entirely.  Antony's 
Hence saucy Eunuch peace, she hath betrayed me,  
And shall dye the death.  Mar. 
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 spoke  
Was Anthony, most Noble Anthony:  
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break  
The name of Anthony: it was divided  
Between her heart, and lips: she rendered life  
Thy name so buried in her.  Ant. 
Dead then?  Mar. 
Dead.  Ant. 
Unarm Eros, the long day's task is done,  
And we must sleep: That thou departest hence safe  
Does pay thy labour richly: Go.  exit Mardian. 
Off, pluck off,  
The sevenfold shield of Aiax cannot keep  
The battery from my heart. Oh 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 Erisychthon 
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  
Marres 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.  Enter Erisychthon. Eros. 
What would my Lord?  Ant. 
Since Cleopatra died,  
I have lived in such dishonour, that the Gods  
Detest my baseness. I, that with my Sword,  
Quartered 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  
Th' inevitable prosecution of disgrace and horror,  
That on my command, thou then wouldst kill me.  
Do't, the time is come: Thou strik'st not me,  
'Tis Caesar thou defeatest. 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.  Ant. 
Eros,  
Wouldst thou be windowed in great Rome, and see  
Thy Master thus with pleacht Arms, bending down  
His corrigible neck, his face subdued  
To penetrative shame; whilst the wheeled seat  
Of Fortunate Caesar drawn before him, branded  
His Baseness that ensued.  Eros. 
I would not see't.  Ant. 
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. 
Oh sir, pardon me.  Ant. 
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 vnpurposed. Draw, and come.  Eros. 
Turn from me then that Noble countenance,  
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.  Ant. 
Lo thee.  Eros. 
My sword is drawn.  Ant. 
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.  Ant. 
'Tis said man, and farewell.  Eros. 
Farewell great Chief. Shall I strike now?  Ant. 
Now Eros.  Kills himself. Eros. 
Why there then:  
Thus I do escape the sorrow of Anthony's death.  Ant. 
Thrice-Nobler than myself,  
Thou teachest me: Oh 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 Erisychthon,  
Thy Master dies thy Scholar; to do thus  
I learned of thee. How, not dead? Not dead?  
The Guard, how? Oh dispatch me.  Enter a Guard. 1. Guard. 
What's the noise?  Ant. 
I have done my work ill Friends:  
Oh make an end of what I have begun.  2 
The Star is fall'n.  1 
And time is at his Period.  All. 
Alas, and woe.  Ant. 
Let him that love's me, strike me dead.  1 
Not I  2 
Nor I.  3 
Nor any one.  exeunt Derceius. 
Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers sly  
This sword but shown to Caesar with this tidings▪  
Shall enter me with him.  Enter Diomedes. Dio. 
Where's Anthony?  Decree. 
There Diomedes there.  Diom. 
Life's he: wilt thou not answer man?  Ant. 
Art thou there Diomedes?  
Draw thy sword, and give me,  
sufficing strokes for death.  Diom. 
Most absolute Lord:  
My Mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.  Ant. 
When did she send thee?  Diom. 
Now my Lord.  Anth. 
Where is she?  Diom. 
Locked 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.  Ant. 
Too late good Diomedes: call my Guard I prithee.  Dio. 
What hoa: the Emperor's Guard,  
The Guard, what hoa? Come, your Lord calls.  Enter 4. or 5. of the Guard of Anthony. Ant. 
Bear me good Friends where Cleopatra bides,  
'Tis the last service that I shall command you.  1 
Woe, woe are we sir, you may not live to wear  
All your true Followers out.  All. 
Most heavy day.  Ant. 
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 thankes for all.  Exit bearing Anthony Enter Cleopatra, and her Maids aloft, with Charmian & Iras. Cleo. 
Oh Charmian, I will never go from hence.  Char. 
Be comforted dear Madam.  Cleo. 
No, I will not:  
All strange and terrible events are welcome,  
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow  
Proportioned to our cause, must be as great  
As that which makes it.  Enter Diomed. 
How now? is he dead?  Diom 
His death's upon him, but not dead.  
Look out o' th' other side your Monument,  
His Guard have brought him thither.  Enter Anthony, and the Guard. Cleo. 
Oh Sun,  
Burn the great Sphere thou movest in, darkling stand  
The varrying shore o' th' world. O Antony, Antony, Antony  
Help Charmian, help Iras help: help Friends  
Below, let's draw him hither.  Ant. 
Peace,  
Not Caesar's Valour hath o'er thrown Anthony,  
But antony's hath Triumphed on itself.  Cleo. 
So it should be,  
That none but Anthony should conquer Anthony,  
But woe 'tis so.  Ant. 
I am dying Egypt, dying; only  
I here importune death awhile, until  
Of many thousand kisses, the poor last  
I lay upon thy lips.  Cleo. 
I dare not Dear,  
Dear my Lord pardon: I dare not,  
Lest I be taken: not th' Imperious show  
Of the full-fortuned Caesar, ever shall  
Be brooched 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  
Demurring upon me▪ but come, come Anthony,  
Help me my women, we must draw thee up▪  
Assist good Friends.  Ant. 
Oh quick, or I am gone.  Cleo. 
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 winged Mercury should fetch thee up,  
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,  
Wishers were ever Fools. Oh come, come, come,  They heave Anthony aloft to Cleopatra. 
And welcome, welcome. die when thou hast lived,  
Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,  
Thus would I wear them out.  All. 
A heavy sight.  Ant. 
I am dying Egypt, dying.  
Give me some Wine, and let me speak a little.  Cleo. 
No, let me speak, and let me rail so hie,  
That the false Huswife Fortune, break her Wheel,  
Provoked by my offence.  Ant. 
One word (sweet Queen)  
Of Caesar seek your Honour, with your safety. Oh.  Cleo. 
They do not go together.  Ant. 
Gentle hear me,  
None about Caesar trust, but Proculeius.  Cleo. 
My Resolution, and my hands, I'll trust,  
None about Caesar.  Ant. 
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' th' world,  
The Noblest: and do now not basely dye,  
Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to  
My Countryman. A Roman, by a Roman  
Valiantly vanquished. Now my Spirit is going,  
I can no more.  Cleo. 
Noblest of men, wilt dye?  
Hast thou no care of me, shall I abide  
In this dull world, which in thy absence is  
No better than a Sty? Oh see my women:  
The Crown o' th' earth doth melt. My Lord?  
Oh withered 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.  Char. 
Oh quietness, Lady.  Iras. 
She's dead too, our Sovereign.  Char. 
Lady.  Iras. 
Madam.  Char. 
Oh Madam, Madam, Madam.  Iras. 
Royal Egypt: Empress.  Char. 
Peace, peace, Iras.  Cleo. 
No more but in a Woman, and commanded  
By such poor passion, as the Maid that Milkes,  
And does the meanest cha●es. It were for me,  
To throw my Sceptre at the injurious Gods,  
To tell them that this World did equal theirs,  
Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught:  
Patience is sottish, 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't 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 breefest end.  Exeunt, bearing of Anthony's body. Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Dollabella, Menas, with his Counsel of War. Caesar. 
Go to him Dollabella, bid him yield,  
Being so frustrate, tell him,  
He mocks the pawses that he makes.  Dol. 
Caesar, I shall.  Enter Decretas with the sword of Anthony. Caes. 
Wherefore is that? And what art thou that darest  
Appear thus to us?  Dec. 
I am called Decretas,  
Mark Anthony 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: it thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life.  Caesar. 
What is't thou sayest?  Dec. 
I say (Oh Caesar) Anthony is dead.  Caesar. 
The breaking of so great a thing, should make  
A greater crack. The round World  
Should have shaken Lions into civil streets,  
And Citizens to their dens. The death of Anthony  
Is not a single doom, in the name lay  
A moiety of the world.  Dec. 
He is dead Caesar,  
Not by a public minister of justice,  
Nor by a hired Knife▪ but that selfe-hand  
Which writ his Honour in the Acts it did,  
Hath with the Courage which the heart did lend it,  
Split the heart. This is his Sword,  
I robbed his wound of it: behold it stained  
With his most Noble blood.  Caes. 
Look you sad Friends,  
The Gods rebuke me, but it is Tidings  
To wash the eyes of Kings.  Dol. 
And strange it is,  
That Nature must compel us to lament  
Our most persisted deeds.  Mec. 
His taints and Honours, waged equal with him.  Dola. 
A Rarer spirit never  
Did steer humanity: but you Gods will give us  
Some faults to make us men, Caesar is touched.  Mec. 
When such a spacious Mirror's set before him,  
He needs must see himself.  Caesar. 
Oh Anthony,  
I have followed thee to this, but we do launch  
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  
Vnreconciliable, should divide our equalness to this.  
Hear me good Friends,  
But I will tell you at some meeter Season,  
The business of this man looks out of him,  
we'll hear him what he says.  Enter an Egyptian. 
Whence are you?  Aegyp. 
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 ' th' way she's forced too.  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 leave to be ungentle  Egypt. 
So the Gods preserve thee.  Exit. Caes. 
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.  Pro. 
Caesar I shall.  Exit Proculeius. Caes. 
Gallus, go you along: where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?  All. 
Dolabella.  Caes. 
Let him alone: for I remember now  
How he's employed: 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. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian. Cleo. 
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 accedents, and bolts up change;  
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung,  
The beggar's Nurse, and Caesar's.  Enter Proculeius. Pro. 
Caesar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt,  
And bids thee study on what fair demands  
Thou meanest to have him grant thee.  Cleo. 
What's thy name?  Pro. 
My name is Proculeius.  Cleo. 
Anthony  
Did ●ell 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 Queece his beggar, you must tell him,  
That Majesty to keep decorum, must▪  
No less beg then a Kingdom: If he please  
To give me conquered Egypt for my Son,  
He gives me so much of mine own, as I  
Will kneel to him with thankes.  Pro. 
Be of good cheer:  
YE are 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 dependacie, and you shall find  
A Conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness,  
Where he for grace is kneeled too.  Cleo. 
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' th' Face.  Pro. 
This I'll report (dear Lady)  
Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied  
Of him that caused it.  Pro. 
You see how easily she may be surprised:  
Guard her till Caesar come.  Iras. 
Royal Queen.  Char. 
Oh Cleopatra, thou art taken Queen.  Cleo. 
Quick, quick, good hands.  Pro. 
Hold worthy Lady, hold:  
Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this  
Relieved, but not betrayed.  Cleo. 
What of death too that rids our dogs of languish  Pro. 
Cleopatra, do not abuse my Master's bounty, by  
Th' undoing of yourself: Let the World see  
His Nobleness well acted, which your death  
Will never let come forth.  Cleo. 
Where art thou Death?  
Come hither come; Come, come, and take a Queen  
Worth many Babes and Beggars.  Pro. 
Oh temperance Lady.  Cleo. 
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 pinioned at your Master's Court,  
Nor once be chasticed with the sober eye  
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,  
And show me to the shouting Varlotarie  
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 abhorting; rather make  
My Country's high pyramids my Gibbet,  
And hang me up in Chains.  Pro. 
You do extend  
These thoughts of horror further than you shall  
Find cause in Caesar.  Enter Dolabella. Dol. 
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.  Pro. 
So Dolabella,  
It shall content me best: Be gentle to her,  
To Caesar I will speak, what you shall please,  
If you'll employ me to him.  Exit Proculeius Cleo. 
Say, I would dye.  Dol. 
Most Noble Empress, you have heard of me.  Cleo. 
I cannot tell.  Dol. 
Assuredly you know me.  Cleo. 
No matter sir, what I have heard or known:  
You laugh when Boys or Women tell their Dreams,  
Is't not your trick?  Dol. 
I understand not, Madam.  Cleo. 
I dreamt there was an Emperor Anthony.  
Oh such another sleep, that I might see  
But such another man.  Dol. 
If it might please ye.  Cleo. 
His face was as the Heavens, and therein stuck  
A Sun and Moon, which kept their course, & lighted  
The little o' th' earth.  Dol. 
Most Sovereign Creature.  Cleo. 
His legs bestrid the Ocean, his reared 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 Anthony it was,  
That grew the more by reaping: His delights  
Were Dolphin-like, they showed his back above  
The Element they lived in: In his Livery  
Walked Crowns and Crownets: Realms & Islands were  
As plates dropped from his pocket.  Dol. 
Cleopatra.  Cleo. 
Think you there was, or might be such a man  
As this I dreamt of?  Dol. 
Gentle Madam, no.  Cleo. 
You Lie up to the hearing of the Gods:  
But if there be, nor ever were one such  
It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff  
To vie strange forms with fancy, yet t' imagine  
An Anthony were Nature's piece, 'gainst Fancy,  
Condemning shadows quite.  Dol. 
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 suits  
My very heart at root.  Cleo. 
I thank you sir:  
Know you what Caesar means to do with me?  Dol. 
I am loath to tell you what, I would you knew.  Cleo. 
Nay pray you sir.  Dol. 
Though he be Honourable.  Cleo. 
he'll lead me then in Triumph.  Dol. 
Madam he will, I know't.  Flourish. Enter Proculeius, Caesar, Gallus, Maecenas, and others of his Train. All. 
Make way there Caesar.  C●es. 
Which is the Queen of Egypt.  Dol. 
It is the Emperor Madam.  Cleo. kneels. Caesar. 
Arise, you shall not kneel:  
I pray you rise, rise Egypt.  Cleo. 
Sir, the Gods will have it thus,  
My Master and my Lord I must obey,  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.  Cleo. 
Sole Sir o' th' 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.  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  
Anthony'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.  Cleo. 
And may through all the world: 'tis yours, & we your Scutcheons, and your signs of Conquest shall Hang in what place you please. Here my good Lord.  Caesar. 
You shall advice me in all for Cleopatra.  Cleo. 
This is the brief: of Money, Plate, & jewels  
I am possessed of, 'tis exactly valued,  
Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?  Seleu. 
here Madam.  Cleo. 
This is my Treasurer, let him speak (my Lord)  
Upon his peril, that I have reserved  
To myself nothing. Speak the truth Seleucus.  Seleu. 
Madam; I had rather seel my lips,  
Then to my peril speak that which is not.  Cleo. 
What have I kept back.  Sel. 
Enough to purchase what you have made known  Caesar. 
Nay blush not Cleopatra, I approve  
Your Wisdom in the deed.  Cleo. 
See Caesar: Oh behold,  
How pomp is followed: Mine will now be yours,  
And should we shift estates, yours would be mine.  
The ingratitude of this Seleucus, does  
Even make me wild. Oh 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!  Caesar. 
Good Queen, let us entreat you.  Cleo. 
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 ha●e reserved,  
Immoment toys, things of such Dignity  
As we greet modern Friends withal, and say  
Some Nobler token I have kept apart  
For Li●i● 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. Prithee go hence,  
Or I shall show the Cinders of my spirits  
Through th' Ashes of my chance: Were't thou a man,  
Thou wouldst have mercy on me.  Caesar. 
Forbear Seleucus.  Cleo. 
Be it known, that we the greatest are mis-thoght  
For things that others do: and when we fall,  
We answer others merits, in our name  
Are therefore to be pitied.  Caesar. 
Cleopatra,  
Not what you have reserved, nor what acknowledged  
Put we i' th' 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 cheered,  
Make not your thoughts your prisons: No dear Queen,  
For we intent so to dispose you, as  
Yourself shall give us counsel: Feed, and sleep:  
Our care and pity is so much upon you,  
That we remaine your Friend, and so adieu.  Cleo. 
My Master, and my Lord.  Caesar. 
Not so: Adieu.  Flourish. Exeunt Caesar, and his Train. Cleo. 
He words me Girls, he words me,  
That I should not be Noble to myself.  
But hark thee Charmian.  Iras. 
Finish good Lady, the bright day is done,  
And we are for the dark.  Cleo. 
Hie thee again,  
I have spoke already, and it is provided,  
Go put it to the haste.  Char. 
Madam, I will.  Enter Dolabella. Dol. 
Where's the Queen?  Char. 
Behold sir.  Cleo. 
Dolabella.  Dol. 
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 performed  
Your pleasure, and my promise.  Cleo. 
Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor.  Dol. 
I your Servant:  
Adieu good Queen, I must attend on Caesar.  Exit Cleo. 
Farewell, and thankes.  
Now Iras, what thinkest thou?  
Thou, an Egyptian Puppet shall be shown  
In Rome aswell as I: Mechanic Slaves  
With greasy Aprons, Rules, and Hammers shall  
Vplift us to the view. In their thick breaths,  
Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclowded,  
And forced to drink their vapour.  Iras. 
The Gods forbidden.  Cleo. 
Nay, 'tis most certain Iras: saucy Lictors  
Will catch at us like Strumpets, and scald Rhymers  
Ballads us out a Tune. The quick Comedians  
Extemporally will stage us, and present  
Our Alexandrian Revels: Anthony  
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see  
Some squeaking Cleopatra Boy my greatness  
I' th' posture of a Whore.  Iras. 
O the good Gods!  Cleo. 
Nay that's certain.  Iras. 
I'll never see't? for I am sure mine Nails  
Are stronger than mine eyes.  Cleo. 
Why that's the way to fool their preparation,  
And to conquer their most absurd intents.  Enter Charmian. 
Now Charmian.  
Show me my Women like a Queen: Go fetch  
My best Attires. I am again for Cidrus,  
To meet Mark Anthony. 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.  A noise within. 
Wherefore's this noise?  Enter a Guardsman. Guards. 
here is a rural Fellow,  
That will not be denied your Highness' presence,  
He brings you Figs.  Cleo. 
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.  Enter Guardsman, and Clown. Guards. 
This is the man.  Cleo. 
Avoid, and leave him.  Exit Guardsman. 
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,  
That kills and pains not?  Clow. 
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 dye of it, do seldom or never recover.  Cleo. 
Remember'st thou any that have died on't?  Clow. 
Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer then 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' th' worm: but he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: but this is most falliable, the Wormes an odd Worm.  Cleo. 
Get thee hence, farewell.  Clow. 
I wish you all joy of the Worm.  Cleo. 
Farewell.  Clow. 
You must think this (look you,) that the Worm will do his kind.  Cleo. 
I, I, farewell.  Clow. 
Look you, the Worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people: for indeed, there is no goodness in the Worm.  Cleo. 
Take thou no care, it shall be heeded.  Clow. 
Very good: give it nothing I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.  Cleo. 
Will it eat me?  Clow. 
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.  Cleo. 
Well, get thee gone, farewell.  Clow. 
Yes forsooth: I wish you joy o' th' worm.  Exit Cleo. 
Give me my Robe, put on my Crown, I have  
Immortal long in me. Now no more  
The juice of Egypt's Grape shall moist this lip.  
You're, you're, good Iras; quick: methinks I hear  
Anthony 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 base life. So, have you done?  
Come then, and take the last warmth of my Lips.  
Farewell kind Charmian, Iras, long farewell.  
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.  Char. 
Dissolve thick cloud, & Rain, that I may say  
The Gods themselves do weep.  Cleo. 
This proves me base:  
If she first meet the Curled Anthony.  
he'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss  
Which is my heaven to have. Come thou mortal wretch,  
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate,  
Of life at once untie: Poor venomous Fool,  
Be angry, and dispatch. Oh couldst thou speak,  
That I might hear thee call great Caesar Ass, unpolicied.  Char. 
Oh Eastern Star.  Cleo. 
Peace, peace:  
Dost thou not see my Baby at my breast,  
That sucks the Nurse asleep.  Char. 
O break! O break!  Cleo. 
As sweet as Balm, as soft as Air, as gentle.  
O Anthony! Nay I will take thee too.  
What should I stay—  Dies. Char. 
In this wild World? So far thee well:  
Now boast thee Death, in thy possession lies  
A Lass unparallelled. Downie Windows close,  
And golden Phoebus, never be beheld  
Of eyes again so Royal: your Crowns away,  
I'll mend it, and then play—  Enter the Guard rustling in, and Dolabella. 1. Guard. 
Where's the Queen?  Char. 
Speak softly, wake her not.  1 
Caesar hath sent  Char. 
Too slow a Messenger.  
Oh come apace, dispatch, I partly feel thee.  1 
Approach hoa,  
All's not well: Caesar's beguiled.  2 
There's Dolabella sent from Caesar: call him.  1 
What work is here Charmian?  
Is this well done?  Char. 
It is well done, and fitting for a Princess  
Descended of so many Royal Kings.  
Ah Soldier.  Charmian dies. Enter Dolabella. Dol. 
How goes it here?  2 Guard. 
All dead.  Dol. 
Caesar, thy thoughts  
Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming  
To see performed the dreaded Act which thou  
So soughtest to hinder.  Enter Caesar and all his Train, marching. All. 
A way there, a way for Caesar.  Dol. 
Oh sir, you are too sure an Augurer:  
That you did fear, is done.  Caesar. 
Bravest at the last,  
She levelled at our purposes, and being Royal  
took her own way: the manner of their deaths,  
I do not see them bleed.  Dol. 
Who was last with them?  1. Guard. 
A simple Countryman, that brought her Figs:  
This was his Basket.  Caesar. 
Poisoned then.  1. Guard 
Oh Caesar:  
This Charmian lived but now, she stood and spoke:  
I found her trimming up the Diadem;  
On her dead Mistress tremblingly she stood,  
And on the sudden dropped.  Caesar. 
Oh Noble weakness:  
If they had swallowed poison, 'twould appear  
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,  
As she would catch another Anthony  
In her strong toil of Grace.  Dol. 
here on her breast,  
There is a vent of Blood, and something blown,  
The like is on her Arme.  1. Guard. 
This is an Aspickes trail,  
And these Figge-leaves have slime upon them, such  
As th' Aspic leaves upon the Caves of Nile.  Caesar. 
Most probable  
That so she died: for her Physician tells me  
She hath pursued Conclusions infinite  
Of easy ways to dye. Take up her bed,  
And bear her Women from the Monument,  
She shall be buried by her Anthony.  
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 Solmemnity.  Exeunt omnes   
FINIS.   

THE TRAGEDY OF CYMBELINE.  

Actus Primus.  

Scoena Prima.  Enter two Gentlemen. 1. Gent. 
YOu do not meet a man but Frowns.  
Our bloods no more obey the Heavens  
Then our Courtiers:  
Still seem, as does the Kings.  2 Gent. 
But what's the matter?  1. 
His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom (whom  
He purposed to his wife's sole Son, a Widow  
That late be married) hath referred herself  
Unto a poor, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded,  
Her Husband banished: she imprisoned, all  
Is outward sorrow, though I think the King  
Be touched at very heart.  2 
None but the King?  1 
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 looks, hath a heart that is not  
Glad at the thing they scowl at.  2 
And why so?  1 
He that hath missed 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 banished) 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  
Endowes a man, but he.  2 
You speak him fare.  1 
I do extend him (Sir) within himself,  
Crush him together, rather than unfold  
His measure duly.  2 
What's his name, and Birth?  1 
I cannot delve him to the root: His Father  
Was called Sicillius, who did join his Honour  
Against the Romans, with Cassibulan,  
But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom  
He served with Glory, and admired Success:  
So gained the Sur-addition, Leonatus.  
And had (besides this Gentleman in question)  
Two other Sons, who in the Wars o' th' 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  
Bigge of this Gentleman (our Theme) deceased  
As he was borne. The King he takes the Babe  
To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,  
Breeds him, and makes him of his Bedchamber,  
Puts to him all the Learnings that his time  
Can make him the receiver of, which he took  
As we do air, fast as 'twas ministered,  
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 th' more Mature,  
A glass that feated them: and to the graver,  
A Child that guided Dotards. To his Mistress,  
(For whom he now is banished) her own price  
Proclaims how she esteemed him; and his Virtue  
By her election may be truly read, what kind of man he is.  2 
I honour him, even out of your report.  
But pray you tell me, is she sole child to ' th' King?  1 
His only child:  
He had two Sons (if this be worth your hearing,  
Mark it) the eldest of them, at three years old  
I' th' swathing clothes, the other from their Nursery  
Were stolen, and to this hour, no guess in knowledge  
Which way they went.  2 
How long is this ago?  1 
Some twenty years.  2 
That a King's Children should be so conveyed,  
So slackly guarded, and the search so slow  
That could not trace them.  1 
Howe'er, 'tis strange,  
Or that the negligence may well be laughed at:  
Yet is it true Sir.  2 
I do well believe you.  1 
We must forbear. here comes the Gentleman,  
The Queen, and Princess.  Exeunt  

Scena Secunda.  Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen. Qu. 
No, be assured you shall not find me (Daughter)  
After the slander of most Stepmother's,  
Euill-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 th' offended King,  
I will be known your Advocate: marry yet  
The fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere good  
You leaned unto his Sentence, with what patience  
Your wisdom may inform you.  Post. 
‛ Please your Highness,  
I will from hence to day.  Qu. 
You know the peril:  
I'll fetch a turn about the Garden, pitying  
The pangs of barred Affections, though the King  
Hath charged you should not speak together.  Exit Imo. 
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.  Post. 
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 loyall'st husband, that did ere plight troth.  
My residence in Rome, at one Filorio's,  
Who, to my Father was a Friend, to me  
Known but by Letter; thither writ (my Queen)  
And with mine eyes, I'll drink the words you send,  
Though Ink be made of Gall.  Enter Queen. Qu. 
Be brief, I pray you:  
If the King come, I shall incur, I know not  
How much of his displeasure: 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.  Post. 
Should we be taking leave  
As long a term as yet we have to live,  
The loathness to departed, would grow: Adieu.  Imo. 
Nay, stay a little:  
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,  
Such parting were too petty. Look here (Love)  
This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)  
But keep it till you woe another Wife,  
When Imogen is dead.  Post. 
How, how? Another?  
You gentle Gods, give me but this I have,  
And sear up my embracements from a next,  
With bonds of death. 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.  Imo. 
O the Gods!  
When shall we see again?  Enter Cymbeline, and Lords. Post. 
Alack, the King.  Cym. 
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.  Post. 
The Gods protect you,  
And bless the good Remainders of the Court:  
I am gone.  Exit. Imo. 
There cannot be a pinch in death  
More sharp than this is.  Cym. 
O disloyal thing,  
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heapest  
A years age on me●  Imo. 
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.  Cym. 
Past Grace? Obedience?  Imo. 
Past hope, and in despair, that way past Grace.  Cym. 
That mightst have had  
The sole Son of my Queen.  Imo. 
O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle,  
And did avoid a Puttock.  Cym. 
Thou took'st a Beggar, wouldst have made my  
Throne, a Seat for baseness.  Imo. 
No, I rather added a lustre to it.  Cym. 
O thou vild one!  Imo. 
Sir,  
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:  
You bred him as my Playfellow, and he is  
A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes me  
Almost the sum he pays.  Cym. 
What? art thou mad?  Imo. 
Almost Sir: Heaven restore me: would I were  
A Neat-heards Daughter, and my Leonatus  
Our Neighbour-Shepheards Son.  Enter Queen. Cym. 
Thou foolish thing;  
They were again together: you have done  
Not after our command. Away with her,  
And pen her up.  Qu. 
Beseech your patience: Peace  
Dear Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Sovereign,  
Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort  
Out of your best advice.  Cym. 
Nay let her languish  
A drop of blood a day, and being aged  
die of this Folly.  Exit. Enter Pisanio. Qu. 
Fie, you must give way:  
here is your Servant. How now Sir? What news?  Pisa. 
My Lord your Son, drew on my Master.  Qu. 
Ha?  
No harm I trust is done?  Pisa. 
There might have been,  
But that my Master rather played, then fought,  
And had no help of Anger: they were parted  
By Gentlemen, at hand.  Qu. 
I am very glad on't.  Imo. 
Your Son's my Father's friend, he takes his part  
To draw upon an Exile. O brave Sir,  
I would they were in Africa both together,  
Myself by with a Needle, that I might prick  
The goer back. Why came you from your Master?  Pisa. 
On his command: he would not suffer me  
To bring him to the Haven: left these Notes  
Of what commands I should be subject too,  
When't pleased you to employ me.  Qu. 
This hath been  
Your faithful Servant: I dare lay mine Honour  
He will remain so.  Pisa. 
I humbly thank your Highness.  Qu. 
Pray walk awhile.  Imo. 
About some half hour hence,  
Pray you speak with me;  
You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboard.  
For this time leave me.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Clotten, and two Lords. 1. 
Sir, I would advice 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.  Clot. 
If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it.  
Have I hurt him?  2 
No faith: not so much as his patience.  1 
Hurt him: His body's a passable Carcase if he be not hurt. It is a thoroughfare for Steel if it be not hurt.  2 
His Steel was in debt, it went o' th' Backside the Town.  Clot. 
The Villain would not stand me.  2 
No, but he fled forward still, toward your face.  1 
Stand you? you have Land enough of your own:  
But he added to your having, gave you some ground.  2 
As many Inches, as you have Oceans (Puppies.)  Clot. 
I would they had not come between us.  2 
So would I, till you had measured how long a Fool you were upon the ground.  Clot. 
And that she should love this Fellow, and refuse me.  2 
If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.  1 
Sir, as I told you always: her Beauty & her Brain go not together. she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.  2 
She shines not upon Fools, lest the reflection  
Should hurt her.  Clot. 
Come, I'll to my Chamber: would there had been some hurt done.  2 
I wish not so, unless it had been the fall of an Ass, which is no great hurt.  Clot. 
You'll go with us?  1 
I'll attend your Lordship.  Clot. 
Nay come, let's go together.  2 
Well my Lord.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Imogen, and Pisanio. Imo. 
I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' th' Haven,  
And questioned'st every Sail: if he should write,  
And I not have it, 'twere a Paper lost  
As offered mercy i●: What was the last  
That he spoke to thee?  Pisa. 
It was his Queen, his Queen.  Imo. 
Then waved his Handkerchief?  Pisa. 
And kissed it, Madam.  Imo. 
Senseless Linen, happier therein than 〈◊〉  
And that was all?  Pisa. 
No Madam: for so long  
As he could make me with his 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  
Can best express how slow his Soul sailed on,  
How swift his Ship.  Imo. 
Thou shouldst have made him  
As little as a Crow, or less, ere left  
To after-eye him.  Pisa. 
Madam, so I did.  Imo. 
I would have broke mine eyestrings;  
Cracked them, but to look upon him, till the diminution  
Of space, had pointed him sharp as my Needle:  
Nay, followed him, till he had melted from  
The smallness of a Gnat, to air: and then  
Have turned mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio,  
When shall we hear from him.  Pisa. 
Be assured Madam,  
With his next vantage.  Imo. 
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 she's of Italy should not betray  
Mine Interest, and his Honour: or have charged him  
At the sixth hour of Morn, at Noon, at Midnight,  
T' encounter me with Orisons, for than  
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. La. 
The Queen (Madam)  
Desires your Highness' Company.  Imo. 
Those things I bid you do, get them dispatched,  
I will attend the Queen.  Pisa. 
Madam, I shall.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Philario, jachimo: a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard. jach. 
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 rabled by his side, and I to peruse him by Items.  Phil. 
You speak of him when he was less furnished, then now he is, with that which makes him both without, and within.  French. 
I have seen him in France: we had very many there, could behold the Sun, with as firm eyes as he.  jach. 
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.  French. 
And then his banishment.  jach. 
I, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours, are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, 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?  Phil. 
His Father and I were Soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.  Enter Posthumus. 
here comes the Britain. Let him be so entertained amongst you, as suits with Gentleman of your knowing, to a Stranger of his quality. 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.  French. 
Sir, we have known together in Orleans.  Post. 
Since when, I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.  French. 
Sir, you o're-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.  Post. 
By your pardon Sir, I was then a young Traveller, rather shunned to go even with what I heard, then in my every action to be guided by others experiences: but upon my mended judgement (if I offend to say it is mended) my Quarrel was not altogether slight.  French. 
Faith yes, to be put to the arbiterment of Swords, and by such two, that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fall'n both.  jach. 
Can we with manners, ask what was the difference?  French. 
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 attemptible than any, the rarest of our Ladies in France.  jach. 
That Lady is not now living; or this Gentleman's opinion by this, worn out.  Post. 
She holds her Virtue still, and I my mind.  jach. 
You must not so fare prefer her, 'fore ours of Italy.  Posth. 
Being so fare provoked as I was in France: I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her Adorer, not her Friend.  jach. 
As fair, and as good: a kind of hand in hand comparison, had been something too fair, and too good for any Lady in Brittany; if she went before others. I have seen as that Diamond of yours out-lusters many I have beheld, I could not believe she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious Diamond that is, nor you the Lady.  Post. 
I praised her, as I rated her: so do I my Stone.  jach. 
What do you esteem it at?  Post. 
More than the world enjoys.  jach. 
Either your vnparagoned Mistress is dead, or she's out-prized by a trifle.  Post. 
You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, or if there were wealth enough for the purchases, or merit for the gift. The other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the Gods.  jach. 
Which the Gods have given you?  Post. 
Which by their Graces I will keep.  jach. 
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 unprizeable 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.  Post. 
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 Thiefs, notwithstanding I fear not my Ring.  Phil. 
Let us leave here, Gentlemen?  Post. 
Sir, with all my heart. This worthy Signior I thank him, makes no stranger of me, we are familiar at first.  jach. 
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.  Post. 
No, no.  jach. 
I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my Estate, to your Ring, which in my opinion o're-values it something: but I make my wager rather against your Confidence, than her Reputation. And to bar your offence herein to, I durst attempt it against any Lady in the world.  Post. 
You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what ye are worthy of, by your Attempt.  jach. 
What's that?  Posth. 
A Repulse though your Attempt (as you call it) deserve more; a punishment too.  Phi. 
Gentlemen enough of this, it came in too suddenly, let it dye as it was borne, and I pray you be better acquainted.  jach. 
Would I had put my Estate, and my Neighbours on th' approbation of what I have spoke,  Post. 
What Lady would you choose to assail?  jach. 
Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousands 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.  Posthmus. 
I will wage against your Gold, Gold to it: My Ring I hold dear as my finger, 'tis part of it.  jach. 
You are a Friend, and there in the wiser: if you buy Ladies flesh at a Million a Dram, you cannot preseure it from tainting; but I see you have some Religion in you, that you fear.  Posthu. 
This is but a custom in your tongue: you bear a graver purpose I hope.  jach. 
I am the Master of my speeches, and would under-go what's spoken, I swear.  Posthu. 
Will you? I shall but lend my Diamond till your return: let there be Covenants drawne between's. My Mistress exceeds in goodness, the hugeness of your unworthy thinking▪ I dare you to this match: here's my Ring.  Phil. 
I will have it no lay.  jach. 
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.  Post. 
I embrace these Conditions, let us have Articles betwixt us: only thus fare 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 vnseduced, you not making it appear otherwise: for your ill opinion, and th' assault you have made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your Sword.  jach. 
Your hand, a Covenant: we will have these things set down be lawful Counsel, and strait away for Britain, lest the Bargain should catch cold, and starve: I will fetch my Gold, and have our two Wagers recorded.  Post. 
Agreed.  French. 
Will this hold, think you.  Phil. 
Signior jachimo will not from it.  
Pray let us follow 'em.  Exeunt  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius. Qu. 
Whiles yet the dewes on ground,  
Gather those Flowers,  
Make haste. Who has the note of them?  Lady. 
I Madam.  Queen. 
Dispatch.  Exit Ladies. 
Now Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs?  Cor. 
Pleaseth your Highness, I: here they are, Madam:  
But I beseech your Grace, without offence  
(My Conscience bids me ask) wherefore you have  
Commanded of me these most poisonous Compounds,  
Which are the moovers of a languishing death:  
But though slow, deadly.  Qu. 
I wonder, Doctor,  
Thou ask'st me such a Question: Have I not been  
Thy Pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how  
To make Perfumes? Distil? Preserve? Yea so,  
That our great King himself doth woe me oft  
For my Confections? Having thus fare proceeded,  
(Unless thou thinkest me devilish) is't not meet  
That I did amplify my judgement in  
Other Conclusions? I will try the forces  
Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as  
We count not worth the hanging (but none humane)  
To try the vigour of them, and apply  
Allayments to their Act, and by them gather  
Their several virtues, and effects.  Cor. 
Your Highness  
Shall from this practice, but make hard your heart:  
Besides, the seeing these effects will be  
Both noisome, and infectious.  Qu. 
O content thee▪  Enter Pisanio. 
here comes a flattering Rascal, upon him  
Will I first work: he's for his Master,  
And enemy to my Son. How now Pisanio?  
Doctor, your service for this time is ended,  
Take your own way.  Cor. 
I do suspect you, Madam,  
But you shall do no harm.  Qu. 
Hark thee, a word.  Cor. 
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 damned 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 fooled  
With a most false effect: and I, the truer,  
So to be false with her.  Qu. 
No further service, Doctor,  
Until I send for thee.  Cor. 
I humbly take my leave.  Exit. Qu. 
Weeps she still (sayest 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 love's 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? Thou tak'st up  
Thou knowst not what: But take it for thy labour,  
It is a thing I made, which hath the King  
Five times redeemed from death. I do not know  
What is more Cordial. Nay, I prithee take it,  
It is an earnest of a farther 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.  Exit▪ Pisa. 
Think on my words. A sly, and constant knave,  
Not to be shaked: the Agent for his Master,  
And the Remembrancer of her, to hold  
The handfast to her Lord. I have given him that,  
Which if he take, shall quite unpeople her  
Of Leidgers for her Sweet: and which, she after  
Except she bend her humour, shall be assured  
To taste of too.  Enter Pisanio, and Ladies. 
So, so: Well done, well done:  
The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Primroses  
Bear to my Closet: Far thee well, Pisanio.  
Think on my words.  Exit Qu. and Ladies Pisa. 
And shall do:  
But when to my good Lord, I prove untrue,  
I'll choke myself: there's all Isle do for you.  Exit.  

Scena Septima.  Enter Imogen alone. Imo. 
A Father cruel, and a Stepdame false,  
A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady,  
That hath her Husband banished: O, that Husband,  
My supreme Crown of grief, and those repeated  
Vexations of it. Had I been Theefe-stolne,  
As my two Brothers, happy: but most miserable  
Is the desires that's glorious. Blessed be those  
How mean so ere, that have their honest wills,  
Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie.  Enter Pisanio, and jachimo. Pisa. 
Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome,  
Comes from my Lord with Letters.  jach. 
Change you, Madam:  
The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,  
And greets your Highness dearly.  Imo. 
Thanks good Sir,  
You're kindly welcome.  jach. 
All of her, that is out of door, most rich:  
If she be furnished with a mind so rare  
She is alone th' Arabian-Bird; and I  
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my Friend:  
Arm me Audacity from head to foot,  
Orlike 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 fare I read aloud.  
But even the very middle of my heart  
Is warmed by ' th' rest, and take 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.  jach. 
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 twinned Stones  
Upon the numbered Beach, and can we not  
Partition make with Spectales so precious  
Twixt fair, and foul?  Imo. 
What makes your admiration?  jach. 
It cannot be i' th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys  
'Twixt two such She's, would chatter this way, and  
Contemn with mows the other. Nor i' th' judgement:  
For Idiots in this case of favour, would  
Be wisely definite: Nor i' th' Appetite.  
Sluttery to such near Excellence, opposed  
Should make desire vomit emptiness,  
Not so alured to feed.  Imo. 
What is the matter trow?  jach. 
The Cloyed will:  
That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that Tub  
Both filled and running: Ravening first the Lamb,  
Longs after for the Garbage.  Imo. 
What, dear Sir,  
Thus raps you? Are you well?  jach. 
Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,  
Desire my Man's abode, where I did leave him:  
He's strange and peevish.  Pisa. 
I was going Sir,  
To give him welcome.  Exit. Imo. 
Continues well my Lord?  
His health beseech you?  jach. 
Well, Madam.  Imo. 
Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.  jach. 
Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,  
So merry, and so gamesome: he is called  
The Britain Reveller.  Imo. 
When he was here  
He did incline to sadness, and oft times  
Not knowing why.  jach. 
I never saw him sad.  
There is a Frenchman his Companion, one  
An eminent Monsieur, that it seems much love's  
A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces  
The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Britain,  
(Your Lord I mean) laughs from's free lungs: cries oh,  
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's free hours languish:  
For assured bondage?  Imo. 
Will my Lord say so?  jach. 
I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,  
It is a Recreation to be by  
And hear him mock the Frenchman:  
But heaven's know some men are much too blame.  Imo. 
Not he I hope.  jach. 
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.  Imo. 
What do you pity Sir?  jach. 
Two Creatures heartyly.  Imo. 
Am I one Sir?  
You look on me: what wrack discern you in me  
Deserves your pity?  jach. 
Lamentable: what  
To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace  
I' th' Dungeon by a Snuff.  Imo. 
I pray you Sir,  
Deliver with more openness your answers  
To my demands. Why do you pity me?  jach. 
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.  Imo. 
You do seem to know  
Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you  
Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more  
Than to be sure they do. For Certainties  
Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,  
The remedy then borne. Discover to me  
What both you spur and stop.  jach ' 
Had I this cheek  
To bathe my lips upon: this hand, whose touch,  
(Whose every touch) would force the Feelers soul  
To ' th' oath of loyalty. This obiect, which  
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,  
Firing it only here, should I (damned then)  
Slawer 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 illustrious 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.  Imo. 
My Lord, I fear  
Has forgot Britain.  jach. 
And himself, not I  
Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce  
The Beggary of his change: but 'tis your Graces  
That from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,  
Charms this report out.  Imo. 
Let me hear no more.  jach. 
O dearest Soul: your Cause doth strike my hart  
With pity, that doth make me sick. A Lady  
So fair, and fastened to an Empery  
Would make the great'st King double, to be partnered  
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 boiled stuff  
As well might poison Poison. Be revenged,  
Or she that bore you, was no Queen, and you  
Recoil from your great Stock.  Imo. 
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?  jach. 
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.  Imo. 
What hoa, Pisanio?  jach. 
Let me my service tender on your lips.  Imo. 
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 seekest, as base, as strange:  
Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as fare  
From thy report, as thou from Honour: and  
Solicits here a Lady, that disdains  
Thee, and the Devil alike. What hoa, 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 hoa, Pisanio?  jach. 
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 called 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 mannered: such a holy Witch,  
That he enchants Societies into him:  
Half all men hearts are his.  Imo. 
You make amends.  jach. 
He sits 'mongst men, like a defended 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 of a false report, which hath  
Honoured with confirmation your great judgement,  
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) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon.  Imo. 
All's well Sir:  
Take my power i' th' Court for yours.  jach. 
My humble thankes: I had almost forgot  
T' entreat your Grace, but in a small request,  
And yet of moment too, for it concerns:  
Your Lord, myself, and other Noble Friends  
Are partners in the business.  Imo. 
Pray what is't?  jach. 
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.  Imo. 
Willingly:  
And pawn mine Honour for their safety, since  
My Lord hath interest in them, I will keep them  
In my Bedchamber.  jach. 
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.  Imo. 
O no, no.  jach. 
Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word  
By length'ning my return. From Gallia,  
I crossed the Seas on purpose, and on promise  
To see your Grace.  Imo. 
I thank you for your pains:  
But not away to morrow.  jach. 
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 ' th' tender of our Present.  Imo. 
I will write:  
Send your Trunk to me, it shall safe be kept,  
And truly yielded you: you're very welcome.  Exeunt.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Clotten, and the two Lords. Clot. 
Was there ever man had such jucke? when I kissed the jack upon an upcast, to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whorson jacke-an-apes, must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oatney of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.  1. 
What got he by that? you have broke his pate with your Bowl.  2. 
If his wit had been like him that broke it: it would have run all out.  Clot. 
When a Gentleman is disposed to swear: it is not for any standers by to curtail his oaths. Ha'?  2. 
No my Lord; nor crop the ears of them.  Clot. 
Whoreson dog: I gave him satisfaction? would he had been one of my Rank.  2. 
To have smelled like a Foole.  Clot. 
I am not vexed more at any thing in th' 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 jacke-slave hath his belly full of Fight, and I must go up and down like a Cock, that no body can match.  2. 
You are Cock and Capon too, and you crow  
Cock, with your comb on.  Clot. 
Sayest thou?  2. 
It is not fit you Lordship should undertake every  
Companion, that you give offence too.  Clot. 
No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.  2. 
I, it is fit for your Lordship only.  Clot. 
Why so I say.  1. 
Did you here of a Stranger that's come to Court night?  Clot. 
A Stranger, and I not know on't?  2. 
He's a strange Fellow himself, and knows it not.  1. 
There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus Friends.  Clot. 
Leonatus? A banished Rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this Stranger?  1. 
One of your Lordship's Pages.  Clot. 
Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in't?  2. 
You cannot derogate my Lord.  Clot. 
Not easily I think.  2. 
You are a Fool granted, therefore your Issues being foolish do not derogate.  Clot. 
Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost to day at Bowls, I'll win to night of him. Come: go.  2. 
I'll attend your Lordship.  Exit. 
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 endur'st,  
Betwixt a Father by thy Stepdame governed,  
A Mother hourly coining plots: A Wooer,  
More hateful than the foul expusion is  
Of thy dear Husband. Then that horrid Act  
Of the divorce, heeled make the Heavens hold firm  
The walls of thy dear Honour. Keep vnshaked  
That Temple thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand  
T' enjoy thy banished Lord: and this great Land.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady. Imo. 
Who's there? My woman: Helen?  La. 
Please you Madam.  Imo. 
What hove is it?  Lady. 
Almost midnight, Madam.  Imo. 
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' th' clock,  
I prithee call me: Sleep hath seized me wholly.  
To your protection I commend me, Gods,  
From fairies, and the Tempter's of the night,  
Guard me beseech ye.  Sleeps. jachimo from the Trunk. jach. 
The Crickets sing, and man's ore-labored sense  
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus  
Did softly press the Rushes, ere he wakened  
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 vnparagoned,  
How dearly they do't: 'Tis her breathing that  
Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o' th' Taper  
Bows toward her, and would under-peepe her lids.  
To see th' enclosed Lights, now Canopied  
Under these windows, White and Azure laced  
With Blue of Heavens own tinct. But my design?  
To note the Chamber, I will write all down,  
Such, and such pictures: There the window, such  
Th' adronement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures,  
Why such, and such: and the Contents o' th' Story.  
Ah, but some natural notes about her Body,  
Above ten thousand meaner Movables  
Would testify, t' 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;  
As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard.  
'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly,  
As strongly as the Conscience does within:  
To ' th' madding of her Lord. On her left breast  
Amole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson drops  
I' th' bottom of a Cowslippe. here's a Voucher,  
Stronger than ever Law could make; this Secret  
Will force him think I have picked the lock, and taken  
The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end?  
Why should I write this down, that's rivete,  
Screwed to my memory. She hath been reading late,  
The Tale of Tereus, here the leaffe's turned down  
Where Philomele gave up. I have enough,  
To ' th' Trunk again, and shut the spring of it.  
Swift, swift, you Dragons of the night, that dawning  
May bear the Raven's eye: I lodge in fear,  
Though this a heavenly Angel: hell is here.  Clock strikes 
One, two, three: time, time.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Clotten, and Lords. 1. 
Your Lordship is the most patiented man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up Ace.  Clot. 
It would make any man cold to lose.  1. 
But not every man patiented after the noble temper of your Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when you win.  Clotpoll 
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?  1 
Day, my Lord.  Clot. 
I would this Music would come: I am advised to give her Music a 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 open their Golden eyes  
With every thing that pretty is, my Lady sweet arise:  
Arise, arise.   
So, get you gone: if this penetrate, I will consider your Music the better: if it do not, it is a voice in her ears which Horse-haires, and Calues-guts, nor the voice of unpaved Eunuch to boot, can never amed.  Enter Cymbaline, and Queen. 2 
here comes the King.  Clot. 
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. Good morrow to your Majesty, and to my gracious Mother.  Cym. 
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter  
Will she not forth?  Clot. 
I have assailed her with Musics, but she vouchsafes no notice.  Cym. 
The Exile of her Minion is too new,  
She hath not yet forgot him, some more time  
Must wear the print of his remembrance on't,  
And then she's yours.  Qu. 
You are most bound to ' th' King,  
Who let's go by no vantages, that may  
Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself  
To orderly solicity, 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.  Clot. 
Senseless? Not so.  Mes. 
So like you (Sir) Ambassadors from Rome;  
The one is Caius Lucius.  Cym. 
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 fore-spent 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  
T' employ you towards this Roman.  
Come our Queen.  Exeunt. Clot. 
If she be up, I'll speak with her: if not  
Let her lie still, and dream: by your leave hoa,  
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 ' th' stand o' th' Stealer: and 'tis Gold  
Which makes the Trueman killed, and saves the Thief:  
Nay, sometime hangs both Thief, and Trueman: 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.  
By your leave.  Knocks. Enter a Lady. La. 
Who's there that knocks?  Clot. 
A Gentleman.  La. 
No more.  Clot. 
Yes, and a Gentlewoman's Son.  La. 
That's more  
Than some whose Tailors are as dear as yours,  
Can justly boast of: what's your Lordship's pleasure?  Clot. 
Your Lady's person, is she ready?  La. 
I, to keep her Chamber.  Clot. 
There is Gold for you,  
Sell me your good report.  La. 
How my good name? or to report of you  
What I shall think is good. The Princess.  Enter Imogen. Clot. 
Good morrow fairest, Sister your sweet hand.  Imo. 
Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much pains  
For purchasing but trouble: the thankes I give,  
Is telling you that I am poor of thankes,  
And scarce can spare them.  Clot. 
Still I swear ● love you.  Imo. 
If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me:  
If you swear still, your recompense is still  
That I regard it not.  Clot. 
This is no answer.  Imo. 
But that you shall not say, I yield being silent,  
I would not speak. I pray you spare me, i'faith  
I shall unfold equal discourtesy  
To your best kindness: one of your great knowing  
Should learn (being taught) forbearance.  Clot. 
To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin,  
I will not.  Imo. 
Fools are not mad Folks.  Clot. 
Do you call me Fool?  Imo. 
As I am mad I do:  
If you'll be patiented, 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 th' 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, then make't my boast.  Clot. 
You sin against  
Obedience, which you own your Father, for  
The Contract you pretend with that base Wretch,  
One, bred of Alms, and fostered with cold dishes,  
With scraps o' th' Court: It is no Contract, none;  
And though it be allowed in meaner parties  
(Yet who then he more mean) to knit their souls  
(On whom there is no more dependency  
But Brats and Beggary) in selfe-figured knot,  
Yet you are curbed from that enlargement, by  
The consequence o' th' Crown, and must not foil  
The precious note of it; with a base Slave,  
A Hilding for a Livery, a Squire's Cloth,  
A Pantler; not so eminent.  Imo. 
Profane Fellow:  
Wert thou the Son of jupiter, and no more,  
But what thou art besides: thou were't too base,  
To be his Groom: thou were't 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.  Clot. 
The South-Fog rot him.  Imo. 
He never can meet more mischance, then come  
To be but named of thee. His meanest Garment  
That ever hath but clipped his body; is dearer  
In my respect, than all the Heirs above thee,  
Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?  Enter Pisanio, Clot. 
His Garments? Now the devil.  Imo. 
To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently.  Clot. 
His Garment?  Imo. 
I am sprighted with a Fool,  
Frighted, and angered worse: Go bid my woman  
Search for a jewel, that too casually  
Hath left mine Arm: it was thy Masters. Shrew me  
If I would lose it for a Revenue,  
Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,  
I saw't this morning: Confident I am.  
Last night 'twas on mine Arm; I kissed it,  
I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord  
That I kiss aught but he.  Pis. 
'Twill not be lost.  Imo. 
I hope so: go and search.  Clot. 
You have abused me:  
His meanest Garment?  Imo. 
I, I said so Sir,  
If you will make't an Action, call witness to't.  Clot. 
I will inform your Father.  Imo. 
Your Mother too:  
She's my good Lady; and will concieve, I hope  
But the worst of me. So I leave your Sir,  
To ' th' worst of discontent.  Exit. Clot. 
I'll bereuenged:  
His meanest Garment? Well.  Exit.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Posthumus, and Philario. Post. 
Fear it not Sir: I would I were so sure  
To win the King, as I am bold, her Honour  
Will remain here's.  Phil. 
What means do you make to him?  Post. 
Not any: but abide the change of Time,  
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish  
That warmer days would come: In these feared hope  
I barely gratify your love; they failing  
I must die much your debtor.  Phil. 
Your very goodness, and your company,  
Ore-payes all I can do. By this your King,  
Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius,  
Will does Commission throughly. And I think  
he'll grant the Tribute: send th' Arrearages,  
Or look upon our Romans', whose remembrance  
Is yet fresh in their grief.  Post. 
I do believe  
(Statist though I am none, nor like to be)  
That this will prove a War; and you shall hear  
The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed  
In our not-fearing-Britaine, then have tidings  
Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen  
Are men more ordered, then when julius Caesar  
Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their courage  
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,  
(Now wingled with their courages) will make known  
To their Approvers, they are People, such  
That mend upon the world.  Enter jachimo. Phi. 
See jachimo.  Post. 
The swiftest Hearts, have posted you by land;  
And Winds of all the Corners kissed your Sails,  
To make your vessel nimble.  Phil. 
Welcome Sir.  Post. 
I hope the briefness of your answer, made  
The speediness of your return.  jachi. 
Your Lady,  
Is one of the fairest that I have looked upon  Post. 
And therewithal the best, or let her beauty  
Look through a Casement to allure false hearts,  
And be false with them.  jachi. 
here are Letters for you.  Post. 
Their tenure good I trust.  jach. 
'Tis very like.  Post. 
Was Caius Lucius in the Britain Court,  
When you were there?  jach. 
He was expected then,  
But not approached.  Post. 
All is well yet,  
Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is't not  
Too dull for your good wearing?  jach. 
If I have lost it,  
I should have lost the worth of it in Gold,  
I'll make a journey twice as fare, t'enjoy  
A second night of such sweet shortness, which  
Was mine in Britain, for the Ring is won.  Post. 
The Stones too hard to come by.  jach. 
Not a whit,  
Your Lady being so easy.  Post. 
Make note Sir  
Your loss, your Sport: I hope you know that we  
Must not continue Friends.  jach. 
Good Sir, we must  
If you keep Covenant: had I not brought  
The knowledge of your Mistress home, I grant  
We were to question farther; 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.  Post. 
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 leave both  
To who shall find them.  jach. 
Sir, my Circumstances  
Being so ne'er 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.  Post. 
Proceed.  jach. 
First, her Bedchamber  
(Where I confess I slept not, but profess  
Had that was well worth watching) it was hanged  
With Tapestry of Silk, and Silver, the Story  
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,  
And Sidnus swelled 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 wondered  
Can be so rarely, and exactly wrought  
Since the true life on't was—  Post. 
This is true:  
And this you might have heard of here, by me,  
Or by some other.  jach. 
More particulars  
Must justify my knowledge.  Post. 
So they must,  
Or do your Honour injury.  jach. 
The Chimney  
Is South the Chamber, and Chimney-piece  
Chaste Diana, bathing: never saw I figures  
So likely to report themselves; the Cutter  
Was as another Nature dumb, outwent her,  
Motion, and Breath left out.  Post. 
This is a thing  
Which you might from Relation likewise reap,  
Being, as it is, much spoke of.  jach. 
The Roof o' th' 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.  Post. 
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.  jach. 
Then if you can  
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.  Post. 
jove—  
Once more let me behold it: Is it that  
Which I left with her?  jach. 
Sir (I thank her) that  
She stripped it from her Arm: I see her yet:  
Her pretty Action, did out-sell her gift,  
And yet enriched it too: she gave it me,  
And said, she prized it once.  Post. 
May be, she plucked it off  
To send it me.  jach. 
She writes so to you? doth she?  Post. 
O no, no, no, 'tis true. here, take this too,  
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,  
Then they are to their Virtues, which is nothing:  
O, above measure false.  Phil. 
Have patience Sir,  
And take your Ring again, 'tis not yet won:  
It may be probable she lost it: or  
Who knows if one her women, being corrupted  
Hath stolen it from her.  Post. 
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.  jach. 
By jupiter, I had it from her Arme.  Post. 
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 Cognisance of her incontinency  
Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus dear  
There, take thy hire, and all the Fiends of Hell  
Divide themselves between you.  Phil. 
Sir, be patiented:  
This is not strong enough to be believed  
Of one persuaded well of.  Post. 
Never talk on't:  
She hath been colted by him.  jach. 
If you seek  
For further satisfying, under her Breast  
(Worthy her pressing) lies a Mole, right proud  
Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life  
I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger  
To feed again, though full. You do remember  
This stain upon her?  Post. 
I, and it doth confirm  
Another stain, as big as Hell can hold,  
Were there no more but it.  jach. 
Will you hear more?  Post. 
Spare your Arithmetic,  
Never count the Turns: Once, and a Million.  jach. 
I'll be sworn.  Post. 
No swearing:  
If you will swear you have not doneed, you lie,  
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny  
Thou'st made me Cuckold.  jach. 
I'll deny nothing.  Post. 
O that I had her here, to tear her Limb-meale:  
I will go there and do't, i' th' Court, before  
Her Father. I'll do something.  Exit. Phil. 
Quite besides  
The government of Patience. You have won:  
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath  
He hath against himself.  jach. 
With all my heart.  Exeunt. Enter Posthumus. Post. 
Is there no way for Men to be, but Women  
Must be halfe-workers? We are all Bastards,  
And that most venerable man, which I  
Did call my Father, was, I know not where  
When I was stamped. Some coiner with his Tools  
Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seemed  
The Diana of that time: so doth my Wife  
The Non-pareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance!  
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained,  
And prayed me oft forbearance: did it with  
A pudencie so Rosy, the sweet view on't  
Might well have warmed old Saturn;  
That I thought her  
As Chaste, as vn-sunned Snow. Oh, all the Devils!  
This yellow jachimo in an hour, was't not?  
Or less; at first? Perchance he spoke not, but  
Like a full Acorned Boar, a jarmen on,  
cried oh, and mounted; found no opposition  
But what he looked for, should oppose, and she  
Should from encounter guard. Can 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, Covet, change of Prides, Disdain,  
Nice-longing, Slanders, Mutability;  
All Faults that name, 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.   

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter in State, Cymbeline, Queen, Clotten, and Lords at one door, and at another, Caius, Lucius, and Attendants. Cym. 
Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?  Luc. 
When julius Caesar (whose remembrance yet  
Life's in men's eyes, and will to Ears and Tongues  
Be Theme, and hearing ever) was in this Britain,  
And Conquered it, Cassibulan 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 vntendered.  Qu. 
And to kill the marvel,  
Shall be so ever.  Clot. 
There be many Caesars,  
Ere such another julius: Britaines a world  
By itself, and we will nothing pay  
For wearing our own Noses.  Qu. 
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 Oaks unskaleable, and roaring Waters,  
With Sands that will not bear your Enemy's Boats,  
But suck them up to ' th' Topmast. A kind of Conquest  
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag  
Of Came, and Saw, and Overcame: with shame  
(The first that ever touched him) he was carried  
From off our Coast, twice beaten: and his Shipping  
(Poor ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas  
Like Egge-shels moved upon their Surges, cracked  
As easily 'gainst our Rocks. For joy whereof,  
The famed Cassibulan, who was once at point  
(Oh giglot Fortune) to master Caesar's Sword,  
Made Luds-Towne with reioycing-Fires bright,  
And Britain's strut with Courage.  Clot. 
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 more such Caesars, other of them may have crooked Noses, but to owe such straight Arms, none.  Cym. 
Son, let your Mother end.  Clot. 
We have yet many among us, can gripe as hard as Cassibulan, 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.  Cym. 
You must know,  
Till the injurious Romans, did extort  
This Tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's Ambition,  
Which swelled so much, that it did almost stretch  
The sides o' th' 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, we do. Say then to Caesar,  
Our Ancestor was that Mulmutius, which  
Ordained 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,  
Tho Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws  
Who was the first of Britain, which did put  
His brows within a golden Crown, and called  
Himself a King.  Luc. 
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.  Cym. 
Thou art welcome Caius,  
Thy Caesar Knighted me; my youth I spent  
Much under him; of him, I gathered 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 Britain's cold:  
So Caesar shall not find them.  Luc. 
Let proof speak.  Clot. 
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 far the better for you: and there's an end.  Luc. 
So sir.  Cym. 
I know your Master's pleasure, and he mine:  
All the Remain, is welcome.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter. Pis. 
How? of Adultery? Wherefore writ you not  
What Monsters her accuse? Leonatus:  
Oh Master, what a strange infection  
Is fall'n into thy ear? What false Italian,  
(As poisonous tongued, as handed) hath prevailed  
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.  
She's punished for her Truth; and undergoes  
More Goddesse-like, then Wifelike; such Assaults  
As would take in some Virtue. Oh 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 go do odd service, never  
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I,  
That I should seem to lack humanity,  
So much as this Fact comes to? Do't: The Letter.  
That I have sent her, by her own command,  
Shall give thee opportunity. Oh damned paper,  
Black as the Ink that's on thee: senseless bauble,  
Art thou a Foedarie for this Act; and look'st  
So Virginlike without? Lo her she comes.  Enter Imogen. 
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.  Imo. 
How now Pisanio?  Pis. 
Madam, here is a Letter from my Lord.  Imo. 
Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus?  
Oh, learned indeed were that Astronomer  
That knew the Stars, as I his Characters,  
Heeled lay the Future open. You good Gods,  
Let what is here contained, 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 medcinable, that is one of them,  
For it doth physic Love, of his content,  
All but in that. Good Wax, thy leave: blessed be  
You Bees that make these Locks of counsel. Lovers,  
And men in dangerous Bonds pray not alike,  
Though Forfeytours you cast in prison, yet  
You clasp young Cupid's Tables: good News Gods.  
Justice, and your Father's wrath (should he take me in his Dominion) could not be so cruel to me, as you: (oh the dearest of Creatures) would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice 〈◊〉 I am in Cambria at Milford-haven: what your own Love, will out of this advice you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his Vow, and your increasing in Love..  
Leonatus-Posthumus.  
Oh for a Horse with wings: Hearest thou Pisanio?  
He is at Milford-haven: Read, and tell me  
How fare '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 longest like me, to see thy Lord; who longest  
(Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet longest  
But in a fainter kind. Oh not like me:  
For mine's beyond, beyond: say, and speak thick  
(Love's Counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,  
To ' th' smothering of the Sense) how fare it is  
To this same blessed Milford. And by ' th' way  
Tell me how Wales: was made so happy, as  
T'inherit such a Haven. But first of all,  
How we may steal from hence: nd 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 borne or ere begot?  
we'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,  
How many store of Miles may we well rid  
Twixt hour, and hour?  Pis. 
One score 'twixt Sun, and Sun,  
Madam's enough for you: and too much too.  Imo. 
Why, one that road to's Execution Man,  
Can never go so slow: I have heard of Riding wagers,  
Where Horses have been nimbler than the Sands  
That run i' th' Clocks behalf. But this is Foolrie,  
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 Franklins' Huswife.  Pisa. 
Madam, you're best consider.  Imo. 
I see before me (Man) nor here, not 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.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus. Bel. 
A goodly day, not to keep house with such,  
Whose roof's as low as ours: Sleep Boys, this gate  
Instructs you how t'adore the Heavens; and bows you  
To a morning's holy office. The Gates of Monarches  
Are Arched so high, that Giants may ●et through  
And keep their impious Turbonds on, without  
Good morrow to the Sun. Hail thou fair Heaven,  
We house i' th' Rock, yet use thee not so hardly  
As prouder livers do.  Guid. 
Hail Heaven.  Aruir. 
Hail Heaven.  Bela. 
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 lessen's, 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 allowed. To apprehend thus,  
Draws us a profit from all things we see:  
And osten to our comfort, shall we find  
The sharded-Beetle, in a safer hold  
Than is the full-winged Eagle. Oh this life,  
Is Nobler, then attending for a check:  
Richer, then doing nothing for a Babe:  
Prouder, then rustling in unpayd-for Silk:  
Such gain the Cap of him, that makes him fine,  
Yet keeps his Book vncrosed: no life to ours.  Gui. 
Out of your proof you speak: we poor vnfledged  
Have never winged from view o' th' nest; nor knows 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: travailing a bed,  
A Prison, or a Debtor, that not dares  
To stride a limit.  Arui. 
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 Quite, as doth the prisoned Bird,  
And sing our Bondage freely.  Bel. 
How you speak.  
Did you but know the City's Usuries,  
And felt them knowingly: the Art o' th' 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' th' War,  
A pain that only seems to seek out danger  
I' th' name of Fame and Honour, which dies i' th' 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 curtsy at the Censure. Oh Boys, this Story  
The World may read in me: My body's marked  
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 fare 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)  
Shaken down my mellow hangings: nay my Leaves,  
And left me bare to weather.  Gui. 
Uncertain favour.  Bel. 
My fault being nothing (as I have told you oft)  
But that two Villains, whose false Oaths prevailed  
Before my perfect Honour, swore to Cymbeline,  
I was Confederate with the Romans: so  
Followed 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, then in all  
The fore-end of my time. But, up to ' th' Mountains,  
This is not Hunter's Language; he that strikes  
The Venison first, shall be the Lord o' th' 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. 
How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature?  
These Boys know little they are Sons to ' th' King,  
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive.  
They think they are mine,  
And though trained up thus meanly  
I' th' Cave, whereon the 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 Paladour,  
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who  
The King his Father called 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 than  
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 Cadwall,  
Once Aruiragus, in as like a figure  
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more  
His own conceiving. Hark, the Game is roused,  
Oh Cymbeline, Heaven and my Conscience knows  
Thou didd'st unjustly banish me: whereon  
At three, and two years old, I stole these Babes,  
Thinking to bar thee of Succession, as  
Thou refts me of my Lands. Euriphile,  
Thou was't their Nurse, they took thee for their mother,  
And every day do honour to her grave:  
Myself Belarius, that am Mergan called  
They take for Natural Father. The Game is up.  Exit.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Pisanio and Imogen. Imo. 
Thou told'st me when we came from horse, the place  
Was near at hand: ne'er longed 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 th' inward of thee? One, but painted thus  
Would be interpreted a thing perplexed  
Beyond selfe-explication. Put thyself  
Into a behaviour of less fear, ere wildness  
Vanquish my staider Senses. What's the matter?  
Why tenderest thou that Paper to me, with  
A look untender? If't be Summer News  
Smile too't before: if Winterly, thou needest  
But keep that countenance still. My Husband's hand?  
That Drug-damned 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.  Pis. 
Please you read,  
And you shall find me (wretched man) a thing  
The most disdained of Fortune.  Imogen reads. 
THy Mistress (Pisanio) hath played the Strumpet in my Bed: the Testimonies whereof, lies 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. Th● 〈◊〉, 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 Pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.  Pis. 
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  
Out-venomes 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?  Imo. 
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?  Pisa. 
Alas good Lady.  Imo. 
I false? Thy Conscience witness: jachimo,  
Thou didd'st accuse him of Incontinency,  
Thou then look'dst like a Villain: now, me thinks  
Thy favours good enough. Some jay of Italy  
(Whose mother was her painting) hath betrayed him:  
Poor I am stolen, a Garment out of fashion,  
And for I am richer than to hang by th' walls,  
I must be ripped: To pieces with me: Oh!  
men's Vows are women's Traitors. All good seeming  
By thy revolt (o● Husband) shall be thought  
Put on for Villainy; not borne where't grows,  
But worn a Bait for Ladies.  Pisa. 
Good Madam, hear me.  Imo. 
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 fail: Come Fellow, be thou honest,  
Do thou thy Master's bidding. When thou seest 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.  Pis. 
Hence vile Instrument,  
Thou shalt not damn my hand.  Imo. 
Why, I must dye:  
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art  
No Servant of thy Masters. Against Selfe-slaughter,  
There is a prohibition so Divine,  
That cravens my weak hand: Come, here's my heart:  
Something's afoot: Soft, soft, we'll no defence,  
Obedient as the Scabbard. What is here,  
The Scriptures of the Loyal Leonatus,  
All turned 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 betrayed  
Do feel the Treason sharply, yet the Traitor  
S● 〈◊〉 in worse case of woe. And thou Posthumus,  
That didd'st set up my disobedience 'gainst the King  
My Father, and makes 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 tyreft on, how thy memory  
Will then be panged 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.  Pis. 
Oh gracious Lady:  
Since I received command to do this business,  
I have not slept one wink.  Imo. 
Do't, and to bed then.  Pis. 
I'll wake mine eyeballs first.  Imo. 
Wherefore then  
Didd'st undertake it? Why hast thou abused  
So many Miles, with a pretence? This place?  
Mine Action? and thine own? Our Horse's labour?  
The Time inviting thee? The perturbed Court  
For my being absent? whereunto I never  
Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so fare  
To be un-bent? when thou hast ' ta●e thy stand,  
Th' elected Deer before thee?  Pis. 
But to win time  
To lose so bad employment, in the which  
I have considered of a course: good Lady  
Hear me with patience.  Imo. 
Talk thy tongue weary, speak:  
I have heard I am a Strumpet, and mine ear  
Therein false strooke, can take no greater wound,  
Nor tent, to bottom that. But speak.  Pis. 
Then Madam,  
I thought you would not back again.  Imo. 
Most like,  
Bringing me here to kill me.  Pis. 
Not so neither:  
But if I were as wise, as honest, than  
My purpose would prove well: it cannot be,  
But that my Master is abused. Some Villain,  
I, and singular in his Art, hath done you both  
This cursed injury.  Imo. 
Some Roman Courtesan?  Pisa. 
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 missed at Court,  
And that will well confirm it.  Imo. 
Why good Fellow,  
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?  
Or in my life, what comfort, when I am  
Dead to my Husband?  Pis. 
If you'll backe to ' th' Court.  Imo. 
No Court, no Father, nor no more ado  
With that harsh, noble, simple nothing:  
That Clotten, whose Love-suite hath been to me  
As fearful as a Siege.  Pis. 
If not at Court,  
Than not in Britain must you bide.  Imo. 
Where then?  
Hath Britain all the Sun that shines? Day? Night?  
Are they not but in Britain? I' th' world's Volume  
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't:  
In a great Pool, a Swannes-nest, prithee think  
There's livers out of Britain.  Pis. 
I am most glad  
You think of other place: Th' 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 t'appear itself, must not yet be,  
But by selfe-danger, you should tread a course  
Pretty, and full of view: yea, happily, 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.  Imo. 
Oh for such means,  
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't  
I would adventure.  Pis. 
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 it pretty self) into a waggish courage,  
Ready in gybes, quicke-answered, saucy, and  
As quarrelous as the Weasel: Nay, you must  
Forget that rarest Treasure of your Cheek,  
Exposing it (but oh the harder heart,  
Alack no remedy) to the greedy touch  
Of common-kissing Titan: and forget  
Your laboursome and dainty Trimmes, wherein  
You made great juno angry.  Imo. 
Nay be brief?  
I see into thy end, and am almost  
A man already.  Pis. 
First, make yourself but like one,  
Forthinking 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 will 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 supplement.  Imo. 
Thou art all the comfort  
The Gods will diet me with. Prithee away,  
There's more to be considered: but we'll even  
All that good time will give us. This attempt,  
I am Soldier too, and will abide it with  
A Prince's Courage. Away, I prithee.  Pis. 
Well Madam, we must take a short farewell,  
Lest being missed, 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 Stomacke-qualmed 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.  Imo. 
Amen: I thank thee.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. Cym. 
Thus fare, and so far well.  Luc. 
Thanks, Royal Sir:  
My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence,  
And am right sorry, that I must report ye  
My Master's Enemy.  Cym. 
Our Subjects (Sir)  
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself  
To show less Sovereignty than they, must needs  
Appear un-kinglike.  Luc. 
So Sir: I desire of you  
A Conduct over Land, to Milford-haven.  
Madam, all joy befall your Grace, and you.  Cym. 
My Lords, you are appointed for that Office:  
The due of Honour, in no point omit:  
So farewell Noble Lucius.  Luc. 
Your hand, my Lord.  Clot. 
Receive it friendly: but from this time forth  
I wear it as your Enemy.  Luc. 
Sir, the Event  
Is yet to name the winner. Far you well.  Cym. 
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords  
Till he have crossed the Severn▪ Happiness.  Exit Lucius, &c Qu. 
He goes hence frowning: but it honours us  
That we have given him cause.  Clot. 
'Tis all the better,  
Your valiant Britain's have their wishes in it.  Cym. 
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.  Qu. 
'Tis not sleepy business,  
But must be looked too speedily, and strongly.  Cym. 
Our expectation that it would be thus  
Hath made us forward. But my gentle Queen,  
Where is our Daughter? She hath not appeared  
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered  
The duty of the day. She look us like  
A thing more made of malice, then of duty,  
We have noted it. Call her before us, for  
We have been too slight in sufferance.  Qu. 
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 stroke;,  
And strokes death to her.  Enter a Messenger. Cym. 
Where is she Sir? How  
Can her contempt be answered?  Mes. 
Please you Sir,  
Her Chambers are all locked, and there's no answer  
That will be given to ' th' loud of noise, we make.  Qu. 
My Lord, when last I went to visit her,  
She prayed me to excuse her keeping close,  
Whereto constrained by her infirmity,  
She should that duty leave unpaide to you  
Which daily she was bound to proffer: this  
She wished me to make known: but our great Court  
Made me too blame in memory.  Cym. 
Her doors locked?  
Not seen of late? Grant Heavens, that which I  
Fear, prove false.  Exit. Qu. 
Son, I say, follow the King.  Clot. 
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Servant  
I have not seen these two days.  Exit. Qu. 
Go, look after:  
Pisanio, thou that standest so for Posthumus,  
He hath a Drugge 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 winged with fervour 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.  Enter Cloten. 
How now, my Son?  Clot. 
'Tis certain she is fled:  
Go in and cheer the King, he rages, none  
Dare come about him.  Qu. 
All the better: may  
This night forestall him of the coming day.  Exit Qu. Clo. 
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  
Out-selles them all. I love her therefore, but  
Disdaining me, and throwing Favours on  
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgement,  
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.  Pis. 
Oh, good my Lord.  Clo. 
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.  Pis. 
Alas, my Lord,  
How can she be with him? When was she missed?  
He is in Rome▪  Clot. 
Where is she Sir? Come nearer:  
No farther halting: satisfy me home,  
What is become of her?  Pis. 
Oh, my allworthy Lord.  Clo. 
Allworthy 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.  Pis. 
Then Sir:  
This Paper is the history of my knowledge  
Touching her flight.  Clo. 
Let's see't: I will pursue her  
Even to Augustus' Throne.  Pis. 
Or this, or perish.  
She's fare enough, and what he learns by this,  
May prove his travel, not her danger.  Clo. 
Humh.  Pis. 
I'll write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen,  
Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again.  Clot. 
Sirrah, is this Letter true?  Pis. 
Sir, as I think.  Clot. 
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 villainy 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.  Pis. 
Well, my good Lord.  Clot. 
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?  Pis. 
Sir, I will.  Clo. 
Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any of thy late Master's Garments in thy possession?  Pisan. 
I have (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same Suit he wore, when he took leave of my Lady & Mistress.  Clo. 
The first service thou dost me, fetch that Suit hither, let it be thy first service, go.  Pis. 
I shall my Lord.  Exit. Clo. 
Meet thee at Milford-haven: (I forgot to ask him one thing, I'll remembered 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 insulment 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 rejoicingl, and I'll be merry in my Revenge.  Enter Pisanio. 
Be those the Garments?  Pis. 
I, my Noble Lord.  Clo. 
How long is't since she went to Milford-haven?  Pis. 
She can scarce be there yet.  Clo. 
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 render itself to thee. My Revenge is now at Milford, would I had wings to follow it. Come, and be true.  Exit Pis. 
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 crossed with slowness; Labour be his meede.  Exit  

Scena Sexta.  Enter Imogen alone. Imo. 
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 showed thee,  
Thou was't within a ken. Oh 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 Fullness  
Is sorer, then to lie for Need: and Falshood  
Is worse in Kings, than Beggars. My dear Lord,  
Thou art one o' th' false Ones: Now I think on thee,  
My hunger's go; but even before, I was  
At point to sink, for Food. But what is this?  
here is a path too't▪ 'tis some savage hold:  
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine  
Ere clean it overthrow Nature, makes it valiant.  
Plenty, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardness ever  
Of Hardiness is Mother. Hoa? who's here?  
If any thing that's civil, speak: if savage,  
Take, or lend. Hoa? 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.  

Scena Septima.  Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus. Bel. 
You Polidore have proved best Woodman, and  
Are Master of the Feast: Cadwall, and I  
Will play the Cook, and Servant, 'tis our match:  
The sweat of industry would dry, and dye  
But for the end it works too. Come, our stomaches  
Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness  
Can snore upon the Flint, when resty Sloth  
Finds the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be here,  
Poor house, that keep'st thyself.  Gui. 
I am throughly weary.  Arui. 
I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.  Gui. 
There is cold meat i' th' Cave, we'll brouz on that  
Whilst what we have killed, be Cooked.  Bel. 
Stay, come not in:  
But that it eats our victuals, I should think  
here were a Fairy.  Gui. 
What's the matter, Sir?  Bel. 
By jupiter an Angel: or if not  
An earthly Paragon. Behold Divinenesse  
No elder than a Boy.  Enter Imogen. Imo. 
Good masters harm me not:  
Before I entered here, I called, and thought  
To have begged, or bought, what I have took: good troth  
I have stolen nought, nor would not, though I had found  
Gold strewed i' th' 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.  Gui. 
Money? Youth.  Aru. 
All Gold and Silver rather turn to dirt,  
As 'tis no better reckoned, but of those  
Who worship dirty Gods.  Imo. 
I see you're angry:  
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should  
Have died, had I not made it.  Bel. 
Whether bound?  Imo. 
To Milford-haven.  Bel. 
What's your name?  Imo. 
Fidele Sir: I have a Kinsman, who  
Is bound for Italy; he embarked at Milford,  
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,  
I am fall'n in this offence.  Bel. 
Prithee (fair youth)  
Think us no Churls: nor measure our good minds  
By this rude place we live in. Well encountered,  
'Tis almost night, you shall have better cheer  
E'er you depart; and thankes to stay, and eat it.  
Boys, bid him welcome.  Gui. 
Were you a woman, youth,  
I should woe hard, but be your Groom in honesty:  
I bid for you, as I do buy.  Arui. 
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.  Imo. 
'Mongst Friends?  
If Brothers: would it had been so, that they  
Had been my Father's Sons, than had my prize  
Been less, and so more equal ballasting  
To thee Posthumus.  Bel. 
He wrings at some distress.  Gui. 
Would I could freeed.  Arui. 
Or I, what ere it be,  
What pain it cost, what danger: Gods!  Bel. 
Hark Boys.  Imo. 
Great men  
That had a Court no bigger than this Cave,  
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue  
Which their own Conscience sealed them: laying by  
That nothing-guift of differing Multitudes  
Can not out-peere these twain. Pardon me Gods,  
I'd change my sex to be Companion with them,  
Since Leonatus' false.  Bel. 
It shall be so:  
Boys we'll go dress our Hunt. Fair youth come in;  
Discourse is heavy, fasting: when we have supped  
we'll mannerly demand thee of thy Story,  
So fare as thou wilt speak it.  Gui. 
Pray draw near.  Arui. 
The Night to ' th' Owl,  
And Morn to th' Lark less welcome.  Imo. 
Thanks Sir.  Arui. 
I pray draw near.  Exeunt.  

Scena Octava.  Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes. 1. Sen. 
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 falne-off Britain's, that we do incite  
The Gentry to this business. He creates  
Lucius Proconsull: and to you the Tribunes  
For this immediate Levy, he commands  
His absolute Commission. Long live Caesar.  Tri. 
Is Lucius General of the Forces?  2. Sen. 
I.  Tri. 
Remaining now in Gallia?  1. Sen. 
With those Legions  
Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy  
Must be suppliant: the words of your Commission  
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time  
Of their dispatch.  Tri. 
We will discharge our duty.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Clotten alone. Clotpoll 
I am near to ' th' 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 Vainglory 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 imperseverant Thing love's 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 (happily) 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.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, and Imogen from the Cave. Bel. 
You are not well: Remain here in the Cave,  
we'll come to you after Hunting.  Arui. 
Brother, stay here:  
Are we not Brothers?  Imo. 
So man and man should be,  
But Clay and Clay, differs in dignity,  
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick,  Gui. 
Go you to Hunting, I'll abide with him.  Imo. 
So sick I am not, yet I am not well:  
But not so Citizen a wanton, as  
To seem to dye, 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 dye  
Stealing so poorly.  Gui. 
I love thee: I have spoke it,  
How much the quantity, the weight as much,  
As I do love my Father.  Bel. 
What? How? how?  Arui. 
If it be sin to say so (Sir) 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 Beer at door,  
And a demand who is't shall dye, I'd say  
My Father, not this youth.  Bel. 
Oh noble strain!  
O worthiness of Nature, breed of Greatness!  
" Cowards father Cowards, & 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' th' Morn.  Arui. 
Brother, farewell.  Imo. 
I wish ye sport.  Arui. 
You health.— So please you Sir.  Imo. 
These are kind Creatures.  
Gods, what lies I have heard:  
Our Courtiers say, all's savage, but at Court;  
Experience, oh thou disproou'st Report.  
Th' imperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish,  
Poor Tributary Rivers, as sweet Fish:  
I am sick still, heartsick; Pisanio,  
I'll now taste of thy Drugge.  Gui. 
I could not stir him:  
He said he was gentle, but unfortunate;  
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.  Arui. 
Thus did he answer me: yet said hereafter,  
I might know more.  Bel. 
To ' th' Field, to ' th' Field:  
we'll leave you for this time, go in, and rest.  Arui. 
we'll not be long away.  Bel. 
Pray be not sick,  
For you must be our Huswife.  Imo. 
Well, or ill.  
I am bound to you.  Exit. Bel. 
And shalt be ever.  
This youth, how ere distressed, appears he hath had  
Good Ancestors.  Arui. 
How Angel-like he sings?  Gui. 
But his neat Cookery?  Arui. 
He cut our Roots in Characters,  
And sawc'st our Broths, as juno had been sick,  
And he her Dieter.  Arui. 
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 Saylors rail at.  Gui. 
I do note,  
That grief and patience rooted in them both,  
Mingle their spurs together.  Arui. 
Grow patiented,  
And let the stinking-Elder (Grief) untwine  
His perishing root, with the increasing Vine.  Bel. 
It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?  Enter Cloten. Clo. 
I cannot find those Runagates, that Villain  
Hath mocked me. I am faint.  Bel. 
Those Runagates?  
Means he not us? I partly know him, 'tis  
Cloten, the Son o' th' Queen. I fear some Ambush:  
I saw him not these many years, and yet  
I know 'tis he: We are held as Outlaws: Hence.  Gui. 
He is but one: you, and my Brother search  
What Companies are near: pray you away,  
Let me alone with him.  Clot. 
Soft, what are you  
That fly me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?  
I have heard of such. What Slave art thou?  Gui. 
A thing.  
More slavish did I ne'er, then answering  
A Slave without a knock.  Clot. 
Thou art a Robber,  
A Lawbreaker, a Villain: yield thee Thief.  Gui. 
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?  Clot. 
Thou Villain base,  
knowst me not by my clothes?  Gui. 
No, nor thy Tailor, Rascal:  
Who is thy Grandfather? He made those clothes,  
Which (as it seems) make thee.  Clo. 
Thou precious Varlet,  
My Tailor made them not.  Gui. 
Hence then, and thank  
The man that gave them thee. Thou art some Fool,  
I am loath to beat thee.  Clot. 
Thou injurious Thief,  
Hear but my name, and tremble.  Gui. 
What's thy name?  Clo. 
Cloten, thou Villain.  Gui. 
Cloten, thou double Villain be thy name,  
I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,  
'Twould move me sooner.  Clot. 
To thy further fear,  
Nay, to thy mere Confusion, thou shalt know  
I am Son to ' th' Queen.  Gui. 
I am sorry for it: not seeming  
So worthy as thy Birth.  Clot. 
Art not afeard?  Gui. 
Those that I reverence, those I fear: the Wise:  
At Fools I laugh: not fear them.  Clot. 
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 Luds-Towne set your heads:  
Yield Rustic Mountaineer.  Fight and Exeunt. Enter Belarius and Aruiragus. Bel. 
No company's abroad?  Arui. 
None in the world: you did mistake him sure.  Bel. 
I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,  
But Time hath nothing blurred 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.  Arui. 
In this place we left them;  
I wish my Brother make good time with him,  
You say he is so fell.  Bel. 
Being scarce made up,  
I mean to man; he had not apprehension  
Of roaring terrors: For defect of judgement  
Is oft the cause of Fear.  Enter Guiderius. 
But see thy Brother.  Gui. 
This Cloten was a Fool, an empty purse,  
There was no money in't: Not Hercules  
Can have knocked out his Brains, for he had none:  
Yet I not doing this, the Fool had borne  
My head, as I do his.  Bel. 
What hast thou done?  Gui. 
I am perfect what: cut off one Clotens head,  
Son to the Queen (after his own report)  
Who called me Traitor, Mountaineer, and swore  
With his own single hand heeled take us in,  
Displace our heads, where (thanks the Gods) they grow  
And set them on Luds-Towne.  Bel. 
We are all undone.  Gui. 
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?  Bel. 
No single soul  
Can we set eye on: but in all safe reason  
He must have some Attendants. Though his Honour  
Was nothing but mutation, I, and that  
From one bad thing to worse: Not Frenzy,  
Not absolute madness could so fare 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  
Heeled 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.  Arui. 
Let Ordinance  
Come as the Gods foresay it: howe'er,  
My Brother hath done well.  Bel. 
I had no mind  
To hunt this day: The Boy Fideles sickness  
Did make my way long forth.  Gui. 
With his own Sword,  
Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en  
His head from him: I'll throw it 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 reak.  Exit. Bel. 
I fear 'twill be revenged:  
Would (Polidore) thou hadst not done it: though valour  
Becomes thee well enough.  Arui. 
Would I had done it:  
So the Revenge alone pursued me: Polidore  
I love thee brotherly, but envy much  
Thou hast robbed me of this deed: I would Revenges  
That possible strength might meet, would seek us through  
And put us to our answer.  Bel. 
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 Polidore return, and bring him  
To dinner presently.  Arui. 
Poor sick Fidele.  
I'll willingly to him, to gain his colour,  
I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood,  
And praise myself for charity.  Exit. Bel. 
Oh thou Goddess,  
Thou divine Nature; thou thyself thou blazonest  
In these two Princely Boys: they are as gentle  
As Zephyr's blowing below the Violet,  
Not wagging his sweet head; and yet, as rough  
(Their Royal blood enchafed) as the rud'st wind,  
That by the top doth take the Mountain Pine,  
And make him stoop to th' Vale. 'Tis wonder  
That an invisible instinct should frame them  
To Royalty unlearned, Honour untaught,  
Civility not seen from other: valour  
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop  
As if it had been sewed: yet still it's strange  
What Cloten's being here to us portends,  
Or what his death will bring us.  Enter Guidereus. Gui. 
Where's my Brother?  
I have sent Clotens Clot-pole down the stream,  
In Embassy to his Mother; his body's hostage  
For his return.  Solemn Music. Bel. 
My ingenuous Instrument,  
(Hark Polidore) it sounds: but what occasion  
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark.  Gui. 
Is he at home?  Bel. 
He went hence even now.  Gui. 
What does he mean?  
Since death of my dearest 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 Cadwall mad?  Enter Aruiragus, with Imogen dead, beating her in his Arms. Bel. 
Look, here he comes,  
And brings the dire occasion in his Arms,  
Of what we blame him for.  Arui. 
The Bird is dead  
That we have made so much on. I had rather  
Have skipped from sixteen years of Age, to sixty:  
To have turned my leaping time into a Crutch,  
Then have seen this.  Gui. 
Oh sweetest, fairest Lily:  
My Brother wears thee not the one half so well,  
As when thou grew'st thyself.  Bel. 
Oh Melancholy,  
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? Find  
The Ooze, to show what Coast thy sluggish care  
Mightst easilest harbour in. Thou blessed thing,  
jove knows what man thou mightst have made: but I,  
Thou dyed'st a most rare Boy, of Melancholy.  
How found you him?  Arui. 
Stark, as you see:  
Thus smiling, as some Fly had tickled slumber,  
Not as deaths dart being laughed at: his right Cheek  
Reposing on a Cushion.  Gui. 
Where?  Arui. 
O' th' floor:  
His arms thus leagued, I thought he slept, and put  
My clouted Brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness  
Answered my steps too loud.  Gui. 
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.  Arui. 
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-sweetned not thy breath: the Raddocke would  
With Charitable bill (Oh bill sore shaming  
Those rich-left-heyres, that let their Father's lie  
Without a Monument) bring thee all this,  
Yea, and furred Moss besides. When Flowers are none  
To winter-ground thy Coarse—  Gui. 
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 ' th' grave.  Arui. 
Say, where shall's lay him?  Gui. 
By good Euriphile, our Mother.  Arui. 
Be't so:  
And let us (Polidore) though now our voices  
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to ' th' ground  
As once to our Mother: use like note, and words,  
Save that Euriphile, must be Fidele.  Gui. 
Cadwall,  
I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;  
For Notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse  
Than Priests, and Phanes that lie.  Arui. 
we'll speak it then.  Bel. 
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 between high, and low. Our Foe was Princely,  
And though you took his life, as being our Foe,  
Yet bury him, as a Prince.  Gui. 
Pray you fetch him hither,  
Thersites body is as good as Aiax,  
When neither are alive.  Arui. 
If you'll go fetch him,  
we'll say our Song the whilst: Brother begin.  Gui. 
Nay Cadwall, we must lay his head to ' th' East,  
My Father hath a reason for it.  Arui. 
'Tis true.  Gui. 
Come on then, and remove him.  Arui. 
So, begin.  

SONG.  Guid. 
Fear no more the heat o' th' 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 Chimneysweepers come to dust.  Arui. 
Fear no more the frown o' th' Great,  
Thou art passed the Tyrant's stroke,  
Care no more to cloth and eat,  
To thee the Reed is as the Oak:  
The Sceptre, Learning, Physic must,  
All follow this and come to dust.  Guid. 
Fear no more the Lightning flash.  Arui. 
Nor th' all-dreaded Thunder-stone.  Gui. 
Fear not Slander, Censure rash.  Arui. 
Thou hast finished joy and m●ne.  Both. 
All Lovers young, all Lovers must,  
Consign to thee and come to dust.  Guid. 
No Exorciser harm thee,  Arui. 
Nor no witchcraft charm thee.  Guid. 
Ghost unlaid forbear thee.  Arui. 
Nothing ill come near thee.  Both. 
Quiet consummation have,  
And renowned be thy grave.   Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten. Gui. 
We have done our obsequies:  
Come lay him down.  Bel. 
here's a few Flowers, but 'bout midnight more:  
The herbs that have on them cold dew o' th' night  
Are strew firest for Graves: upon their Faces.  
You were as Flowers, now withered: even so  
These Herbelets 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 are their pain.  Exeunt. Imogen awakes. 
Yes Sir, to Milford-haven, which is the way?  
I thank you: by yond bush? pray how fare thither?  
'Ods pittikins: can it be six mile yet?  
I have gone all night: I'faith, I'll lie down, and sleep.  
But soft; no Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddesses!  
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 judgements, blind. Good faith  
I tremble still with fear: but if there be  
Yet left in Heaven, as small a drop of pity  
As a Wrens eye; feared 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 is 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,  
All mine to boot, be darted on thee: thou  
Conspired with that Irregulous devil Cloten,  
Hath here cut off my Lord. To write, and read,  
Be henceforth treacherous. Damned Pisanio,  
Hath with his forged Letters (damned Pisanio)  
From this most bravest vessel of the world  
Struck the main top! Oh Posthumus, alas,  
Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that?  
Pisanio might have killed 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. Oh 'tis pregnant, pregnant!  
The Drugge he gave me, which he said was precious  
And Cordial to me, have I not found it  
murderous to ' th' Senses? That confirms it home:  
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten: Oh!  
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,  
That we the horrider may seem to those  
Which chance to find us. Oh, my Lord! my Lord!  Enter Lucius, Captains, and a Soothsayer. Cap. 
To them, the Legions garrisoned in Gallia  
After your will, have crossed the Sea, attending  
You here at Milford-haven, with your Ships:  
They are here in readiness.  Luc. 
But what from Rome?  Cap, 
The Senate hath stirred up the Confiners,  
And Gentlemen of Italy, most willing Spirits,  
That promise Noble Service: and they come  
Under the Conduct of bold jachimo,  
Sienna's Brother.  Luc. 
When expect you them?  Cap. 
With the next benefit o' th' wind.  Luc. 
This forwardness  
Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers  
Be mustered: bid the Captains look too't. Now Sir,  
What have you dreamed of late of this wars purpose.  Sooth. 
Last night, the very Gods showed me a vision  
(I fast, and prayed for their Intelligence) thus:  
I saw Jove's Bird, the Roman Eagle winged  
From the spongy South, to this part of the West,  
There vanished in the Sunbeams, which portends  
(Unless my sins abuse my Divination)  
Success to th' Roman host.  Luc. 
Dream often so,  
And never false. Soft hoa, 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.  Cap. 
he's alive my Lord.  Luc. 
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 then noble Nature did)  
Hath altered that good Picture? What's thy interest  
In this sad wrack? How cameed? Who is't?  
What art thou?  Imo. 
I am nothing; or if not,  
Nothing to be were better: This was my Master,  
A very valiant Britain, 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.  Luc. 
‛ Lack, good youth:  
Thou movest no less with thy complaining, than  
Thy Master in bleeding: say his name, good Friend.  Imo. 
Richard du Champ: If I do lie, and do  
No harm by it, though the Gods hear, I hope  
They'll pardon it. Say you Sir?  Luc. 
Thy name?  Imo. 
Fidele Sir.  Luc. 
Thou dost approve thyself the very same:  
Thy Name well sits thy Faith; thy Faith, thy Name:  
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say  
Thou shalt be so well mastered, but be sure  
No less beloved. The Roman Emperors Letters  
Sent by a Consul to me, should not sooner  
Then thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.  Imo. 
I'll follow Sir. But first, and it 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 & weeds, I ha' strewed 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.  Luc. 
I good youth,  
And rather Father thee, than Master thee: My Friends,  
The Boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us  
Find out the prettiest Dazied-Plot we can,  
And make him with our Pikes and Partisans  
A Grave: Come, Athie him: Boy he's preferred  
By thee, to us, and he shall be interred  
As Soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes,  
Some Falls are means the happier to arise.  Exeunt  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio. Cym. 
Again: and bring me word how 'tis with her,  
A Favour 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.  Pis. 
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.  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.  Cym. 
The time is troublesome:  
we'll slip you for a season, but our jealousy  
Does yet depend.  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.  Cym. 
Now for the Counsel of my Son and Queen,  
I am amazed with matter.  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.  Cym. 
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 Pisa. 
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 betide to Cloten, but remain  
Perplexed 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' th' King, or I'll fall in them:  
All other doubts, by time let them be cleared,  
Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steered.  Exit.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Belarius, Guiderius, & Aruiragus. Gui. 
The noise is round about us.  Bel. 
Let us from it.  Arui. 
What pleasure Sir, we find in life, to lock it  
From Action, and Adventure.  Gui. 
Nay, what hope  
Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans'  
Must, or for Britain's slay us or receive us  
For barbarous and unnatural Revolts  
During their use, and slay us after.  Bel. 
Sons,  
we'll higher to the Mountains, there secure v▪  
To the King's party there's no going: newness  
Of Clotens death (we being not known, not mustered  
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.  Gui. 
This is (Sir) a doubt  
In such a time, nothing becoming you,  
Nor satisfying us.  Arui. 
It is not likely,  
That when they hear their Roman horses neigh,  
Behold their quartered Fires; have both their eyes  
And ears so cloyed importantly as now,  
That they will waste their time upon our note,  
To know from whence we are.  Bel. 
Oh, 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 heard life, aye hopeless  
To have the courtesy your Cradle promised,  
But to be still hot Summer's Tanlings, and  
The shrinking Slaves of Winter.  Gui. 
Then be so,  
Better to cease to be. Pray Sir, to ' th' Army:  
I, and my Brother are not known; yourself  
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,  
Cannot be questioned.  Arui. 
By this Sun that shines  
I'll thither: What thing is't, that I never  
Did see man dye, scarce ever looked 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 blessed Beams, remaining  
So long a poor unknown.  Gui. 
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'.  Arui. 
So say I, Amen.  Bel. 
No reason I (since of your lives you set  
So slight a valewation) should reserve  
My cracked one to more care. Have with you Boys:  
If in your Country wars you chance to dye,  
That is my Bed too (Lads) and there I'll lie.  
Led, lead; the time seems long, their blood thinks scorn  
Till it fly out, and show them Princes borne.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Posthumus alone. Post. 
Yea bloody cloth. I'll keep thee: for I am wished  
Thou shouldst be coloured 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? Oh 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 strooke  
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 blessed to obey. I am brought hither  
Among th' Italian Gentry, and to fight  
Against my Lady's Kingdom: 'Tis enough  
That (Britain) I have killed 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 Britain Peasant: so I'll fight  
Against the part I come with: so I'll dye  
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' th' Leonatis in me:  
To shame the guise o' th' world, I will begin,  
The fashion less without, and more within.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Lucius, jachimo, and the Roman Army at one door: and the Britain Army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. Then enter again in Skirmish jachimo and Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth, jachimo, and then leaves him. jac. 
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 Natures, 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 Britain's fly, Cymbeline is taken: Then enter to his rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus. Bel. 
Stand, stand, we have th' advantage of the ground,  
The Lane is guarded: Nothing routs us, but  
The villainy of our fears.  Gui. Arui. 
Stand, stand, and fight.  Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britain's. They Rescue Cymbeline, and Exeunt. Then enter Lucius, jachimo, and Imogen. Luc. 
Away boy from the Troops, and save thyself:  
For friends kill friends, and the disorders such  
As war were hoodwinked.  jac. 
'Tis their fresh supplies.  Luc. 
It is a day turned strangely: or betimes  
Let's reinforce, or fly.  Exeunt  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Posthumus, and a Britain Lord. Lor. 
Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?  Post. 
I did,  
Though you it seems come from the Fliers?  Lo, 
I did.  Post. 
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 Britain's seen; all flying  
Through a straight Lane, the Enemy full-hearted,  
Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: having work  
More plentiful, than Tools to do't: strooke down  
Some mortally, some slightly touched, some falling  
Merely through fear, that the straight pass was damned  
With deadmen, hurt behind, and Cowards living  
To dye with lengthened shame.  Lo. 
Where was this Lane?  Post. 
Close by the battle, ditched, & walled with turph,  
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, then 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 hearts 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 turned  
A Distaff, to a Lance, guilded pale looks;  
Part shame, part spirit renewed, that some turned coward  
But by example (Oh a sin in War,  
Damned in the first beginners) 'gan to look  
The way that they did, and to grin like Lions  
Upon the Pikes o' th' Hunters. Then began  
A stop i' th' Chaser; a Retire: Anon  
A Rout, confusion thick: forthwith they fly  
Chickens, the way which they stopped Eagles: Slaves  
The strides the Victors made: and now our Cowards  
Like Fragments in hard Voyages became  
The life o' th' need: having found the back door open  
Of the unguarded hearts: heavens, how they wound,  
Some slain before some dying; some their Friends  
O'erborne i' th' former wave, ten chased by one,  
Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty:  
Those that would dye, or ere resist, are grown  
The mortal bugs o' th' Field.  Lord. 
This was strange chance:  
A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boys.  Post. 
Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made  
Rather to wonder at the things you hear,  
Then to work any. Will you Rhyme upon it,  
And vent it for a Mock'rie? here is one:  
" Two Boys, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,  
" Preserved the Britain's, was the Romans bane.  Lord. 
Nay, be not angry Sir.  Post. 
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.  Exit. Post. 
Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery  
To be i' th' Field, and ask what news of me:  
To day, how many would have given their Honours  
To have saved their Carcases? took heel to do't,  
And yet died too. I, in mine own woe charmed  
Can not find death, where I did hear him groan,  
Nor feel him where he strooke. 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' th' War. Well I will find him:  
For being now a Favourer to the Britain,  
No more a Britain, 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 ' th' Roman; great the Answer be  
Britain's 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 Captains, and Soldiers. 1 
Great jupiter be praised, Lucius is taken,  
'Tis thought the old man, and his sons, were Angels.  2 
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,  
That gave th' Affront with them.  1 
So 'tis reported:  
But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?  Post. 
A Roman,  
Who had not now been drooping here, if Seconds  
Had answered him.  2 
Lay hands on him: a Dog,  
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell  
What Crows have pecked them here: he brags his service  
As if he were of note: bring him to ' th' King.  Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio and Roman Captives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Gaoler.  

Scena Quarta.  Enter Posthumus, and Jailer. Gao. 
You shall not now be stolen,  
You have locks upon you:  
So graze, as you find Pasture.  2. Gao. 
I, or a stomach.  Post. 
Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way  
(I think) to liberty: yet am I better  
Than one that's sick o' th' Gout, since he had rather  
Groan so in perpetuity, then be cured  
By ' th' sure Physician, Death; who is the key  
T'vnbarre these Locks. My Conscience, thou art fettered  
More than my shanks, & 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 constrained, 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 vild 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 Imogens dear life, take mine, and though  
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coined it,  
Between man, and man, they weigh not every stamp:  
Though light, take Pieces for the figures sake,  
(You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powers,  
If you will take this Audit, take this life,  
And cancel these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen,  
I'll speak to thee in silence.  Solemn Music. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus, Father to Posthumus, an old man, attired like a warrior, leading in his hand an ancient Matron (his wife, & Mother to Posthumus) with Music before them▪ Then after other Music, follows the two young Leonatis (Brothers to Posthumus) with wounds as they died in the wars. They circled Posthumus round as he lies sleeping. Sicil. 
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 ought but well, whose face I never saw:  
I died whilst in the Womb he stayed, attending Natures Law.  
Whose Father then (as men report, thou Orphans Father art)  
Thou shouldst have been, and sheelded him, from this earth-vexing smart.  Moth. 
Lucina lent not me her aid, but took me in my Throws,  
That from me was Posthumus ripped, came crying 'mong'st his Foes.  
A thing of pity.  Sicil. 
Great Nature like his Ancestry, moulded the stuff so fair:  
That head served the praise o' th' World, as great Sicilius heir.  1. Bro. 
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.  Mo. 
With Marriage wherefore was he mocked to be exiled, and thrown  
From Leonatis Seat, and cast from her, his dearest one:  
Sweet Imogen?  Sic. 
Why did you suffer jachimo, slight thing of Italy,  
To taint his Nobler hart & brain, with needless jealousy,  
And to become the geeke and scorn o' th' others villainy?  2 Bro. 
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, & Tenantius right, with Honour to maintain.  1 Bro. 
Like hardiment Posthumus hath to Cymbeline performed:  
Then jupiter, thou King of Gods, why hast thou thus adiourned  
The Graces for his Merits due, being all to dolours turned?  Sicil. 
Thy Crystal window open; look, look out, no longer exercise  
Upon a valiant Race, thy harsh, and potent injuries:  Moth. 
Since (jupiter) our Son is good, take off his miseries.  Sicil. 
Peep through thy Marble Mansion, help, or we poor Ghosts will cry  
To ' th' shining Synod of the rest, against thy Deity.  Brothers. 
Help (jupiter) or we appeal, and from thy justice fly.  jupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting upon an Eagle▪ he throws a Thunderbolt. The Ghosts 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 oppressed,  
No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours.  
Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift  
The more delayed, delighted. Be content,  
Your low-laide Son, our Godhead will uplift:  
His Comforts thrive, his Trials well are spent:  
Our jovial Star reigned 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 farther with your din  
Express Impatience, lest you stir up mine:  
Mount Eagle, to my Palace Crystalline.  Ascends Sicil. 
He came in Thunder, his Celestial breath  
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy Eagle  
Stooped, as to foot us: his Ascension is  
More sweet than our blessed Fields: his Royal Bird  
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his Beak,  
As when his God is pleased.  All. 
Thanks jupiter.  Sic. 
The Marble Pavement clozes, he is entered  
His radiant Roof: Away, and to be blessed  
Let us with care perform his great behest.  Vanish Post. 
Sleep, thou hast been a Grandsire, and begot  
A Father to me: and thou h●st created  
A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh scorn)  
Gone, they went hence so soon as they were borne:  
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 steeped in Favours; so am I  
That have this Golden chance, and know not why:  
What Fairies haunt this ground? A Book? Oh 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.  Enter Jailer. Gao. 
Come Sir, are you ready for death?  Post. 
Ouer-roasted rather: ready long ago.  Gao. 
Hanging is the word, Sir, if you be ready for that, you are well Cooked.  Post. 
So if I prove a good repast to the Spectators, the dish pays the shot.  Gao. 
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 faint 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. Oh, of this contradiction you shall now be quit: Oh the charity of a penny Cord, it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true Debtor, and Creditor but it: of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: your neck (Sis) is Pen, Book, and Counters; so the Acquittance follows.  Post. 
I am merrier to dye, than thou art to live.  Gao. 
Indeed Sir, he that sleeps, feels not the Toothache: 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.  Post. 
Yes indeed do I, fellow.  Gao. 
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 to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know: ●or jump the after-enquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one.  Post. 
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.  Gao. 
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 hangings the way of winking.  Enter a Messenger. Mes. 
Knock off his Manacles, bring your Prisoner to the King.  Post. 
Thou bring'st good news, I am called to be made free.  Gao. 
I'll be hanged then.  Post. 
Thou shalt be then freer than a Gaoler; no bolt, for the dead.  Gao. 
Unless a man would marry a Gallows, & 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 dye 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 Galowses: I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Cymboline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and Lords. Cym. 
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  
Stept● before Targes of proof, cannot be found:  
He shall be happy that can find him, if  
Our Grace can make him so.  Bel. 
I never saw  
Such Noble fury in so poor a Thing;  
Such precious deeds, in one that promised nought  
But beggary, and poor looks.  Cym. 
No tidings of him?  Pisa. 
He hath been searched among the dead, & living;  
But no trace of him.  Cym. 
To my grief, I am  
The heir of his Reward, which I will add  
To you (the Liver, Heart, and Brain of Britain)  
By whom (I grant) she life's. 'Tis now the time  
To ask of whence you are. Report it.  Bel. 
Sir,  
In Cambria are we borne, and Gentlemen:  
Further to boast, were neither true, nor modest,  
Unless I add, we are honest.  Cym. 
Bow your knees:  
Arise my Knights o' th' 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' th' Court of Britain.  Corn. 
Hail great King,  
To sour your happiness, I must report  
The Queen is dead.  Cym. 
Who worse than a Physician  
Would this report become? But I consider,  
By Medicine life may be prolonged, yet death  
Will seize the Doctor too. How ended she?  Cor. 
With horror, madly dying, like her life,  
Which (being cruel to the world) concluded  
Most cruel to herself. What she confessed,  
I will report, so please you. These her Women  
Can trip me, if I err, who with wet cheeks  
Were present when she finished.  Cym. 
Prithee say.  Cor. 
First, she confessed she never loved you: only  
Affected Greatness got by you: not you:  
Married your Royalty, was wife to your place:  
Abhorred your person.  Cym. 
She alone knew this:  
And but she spoke it dying, I would not  
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.  Corn. 
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.  Cym. 
O most delicate Fiend!  
Who is't can read a Woman? Is there more?  Corn. 
More Sir, and worse. She did confess she had  
For you a mortal Mineral, which being taken,  
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 th' adoption of the Crown:  
But failing of her end by his strange absence,  
Grew shameless desperate, opened (in despite  
Of Heaven and Men) her purposes: repent  
The evils she hatched, were not effected: so  
Despairing, died.  Cym. 
Herd you all this, her Women?  La. 
We did, so please your Highness.  Cym. 
Mine eyes  
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful:  
Mine ears that hear her flattery, nor my heart,  
That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious  
To have mistrusted her: yet (Oh my Daughter)  
That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,  
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all.  Enter Lucius, jachimo, and other Roman prisoners, Leonatus' behind, and Imogen. 
Thou com'st not Caius now for Tribute, that  
The Britain's 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.  Luc. 
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 threatened  
Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods  
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives  
May be called ransom, let it come: Sufficeth,  
A Roman, with a Romans heart can suffer:  
Augustus life's to think on't: and so much  
For my peculiar care. This one thing only  
I will entreat, my Boy (a Britain borne)  
Let him be ransomed: 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'll make bold your Highness  
Cannot deny: he hath done no Britain harm,  
Though he have served a Roman. Save him (Sir)  
And spare no blood beside.  Cym. 
I have surely seen him:  
His favour is familiar to me: Boy,  
Thou hast looked 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.  Imo. 
I humbly thank your Highness.  Luc. 
I do not bid thee beg my life, good Lad,  
And ye● I know thou wilt.  Imo. 
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.  Luc. 
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 perplexed?  Cym. 
What wouldst thou Boy?  
I love thee more, and more: think more and more  
What's best to ask. knowst him thou look'st on? speak  
Wilt have him live? Is he thy Kin? thy Friend?  Imo. 
He is a Roman, no more kin to me,  
Than I to your Highness, who being born your vassal  
Am something nearer.  Cym. 
Wherefore ey'st him so?  Imo. 
I'll tell you (Sir) in private, if you please  
To give me hearing.  Cym. 
I, with all my heart,  
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?  Imo. 
Fidele Sir.  Cym. 
Thou'rt my good youth: my Page  
I'll be thy Master: walk with me: speak freely.  Bel. 
Is not this Boy revived from death?  Arui. 
One Sand another  
Not more resembles that sweet Rosy Lad:  
Who died, and was Fidele: what think you?  Gui. 
The same dead thing alive.  Bel. 
Peace, peace, see further: he eyes us not, forbear  
Creatures may be alike: were it he, I am sure  
He would have spoke to us.  Gui. 
But we see him dead.  Bel. 
Be silent: let's see further.  Pisa. 
It is my Mistress:  
Since she is living, let the time run on,  
To good, or bad.  Cym. 
Come, stand thou by our side,  
Make thy demand aloud. 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. One speak to him.  Imo. 
My boon is, that this Gentleman may render  
Of whom he had this Ring.  Post. 
What's that to him?  Cym. 
That Diamond upon your Finger, say  
How came it yours?  jach. 
Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken, that  
Which to be spoke, would torture thee.  Cym. 
How? me?  jach. 
I am glad to be constrained to utter that  
Which torments me to conceal. By Villainy  
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?  Cym. 
All that belongs to this.  jach. 
That Paragon, thy daughter,  
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits  
Quail to remember. Give me leave, I faint.  Cym. 
My Daughter? what of her? Renew thy strength  
I had rather thou shouldst live, while Nature will,  
Then die ere I hear more: strive man, and speak.  jach. 
Upon a time, unhappy was the clock  
That strooke the hour: it was in Rome, accursed  
The Mansion where: 'twas at a Feast, oh would  
Our Viands had been poisoned (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 swelled 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  
Love's woman for, besides that hook of Wiving,  
Fairness, which strikes the eye.  Cym. 
I stand on fire. Come to the matter.  jach. 
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 craked of Kitchin-Trulles, or his description  
Proved us unspeaking sots.  Cym. 
Nay, nay, to ' th' purpose.  jach. 
Your daughter's Chastity, (there it begins)  
He spoke of her, as Diana had hot dreams,  
And she alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch  
Made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him  
Pieces of Gold, 'gainst this, which then he wore  
Upon his honoured 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  
Then 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 Villainous. Being thus quenched  
Of hope, not longing; mine Italian brain,  
'Gan in your duller Britain operare  
Most vildly: for my vantage excellent.  
And to be brief, my practice so prevailed  
That I returned with simular proof enough,  
To make the Noble Leonatus mad,  
By wounding his belief in her Renown,  
With Tokens thus, and thus: averring notes  
Of Chamber-hanging, Pictures, this her Bracelet  
(Oh cunning how I got) nay some marks  
Of secret on her person, that he could not  
But think her bond of Chastity quite cracked,  
I having ' ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,  
methinks I see him now.  Post. 
I 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. Oh give me Cord, or knife, or poison,  
Some upright justicer. Thou King, send out  
For Torturors ingenious: it is I  
That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend  
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,  
That killed 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' th' street to bay me: every villain  
Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and  
Be villainy less then ' 'twas. Oh Imogen!  
My Queen, my life, my wife: oh Imogen,  
Imogen, Imogen.  Imo. 
Peace my Lord, hear, hear.  Post. 
Shall's have a play of this?  
Thou scornful Page, there lie thy part.  Pis. 
Oh Gentlemen, help,  
Mine ' and your Mistress: Oh my Lord Posthumus,  
You ne'er killed Imogen till now: help, help,  
Mine honoured Lady.  Cym. 
Does the world go round?  Posth. 
How comes these staggers on me?  Pisa. 
Wake my Mistress.  Cym. 
If this be so, the Gods do mean to strike me  
To death, with mortal joy.  Pisa. 
How fares my Mistress?  Imo. 
Oh get thee from my sight,  
Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous Fellow hence,  
Breath not where Princes are.  Cym. 
The tune of Imogen.  Pisae. 
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.  Cym. 
New matter still.  Imo. 
It poisoned me.  Corn. 
Oh Gods!  
I left out one thing which the Queen confessed,  
Which must approve thee honest. If Pasanio  
Have (said she) given his Mistress that Confection  
Which I gave him for Cordial, she is served,  
As I would serve a Rat.  Cym. 
What's this, Cornelius?  Corn. 
The Queen (Sir) very oft importuned me  
To temper poisons for her, still pretending  
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only  
In killing Creatures vild, 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?  Imo. 
Most like I did, for I was dead.  Bel. 
My Boys, there was our error.  Gui. 
This is sure Fidele.  Imo. 
Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro you?  
Think that you are upon a Rock, and now  
Throw me again.  Post. 
Hang there like fruit, my soul,  
Till the Tree dye.  Cym. 
How now, my Flesh? my Child?  
What, makest thou me a dullard in this Act?  
Wilt thou not speak to me?  Imo. 
Your blessing, Sir.  Bel. 
Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not,  
You had a motive for't.  Cym. 
My tears that fall  
Prove holy-water on thee; Imogen,  
Thy Mother's dead.  Imo. 
I am sorry for't, my Lord.  Cym. 
Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was  
That we meet here so strangely: but her Son  
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.  Pisa. 
My Lord,  
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten  
Upon my Ladies missing, came to me  
With his Sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore  
If I discovered not which way she was gone,  
It was my instant death. By accident,  
I had a feigned Letter of my Masters  
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.  Gui. 
Let me end the Story: I slew him there.  Cym. 
Marry, the Gods forefend.  
I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips  
Pluck a hard sentence: Prithee valiant youth  
Deny't again.  Gui. 
I have spoke it, and I did it.  Cym. 
He was a Prince.  Gui. 
A most incivill one. The wrongs he did me  
Were nothing Princelike; 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.  Cym. 
I am sorrow for thee:  
By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must  
Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead.  Imo. 
That headless man I thought had been my Lord  Cym. 
Bind the Offender,  
And take him from our presence.  Bel. 
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. Let his Arms alone,  
They were not borne for bondage.  Cym. 
Why old Soldier:  
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for  
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent  
As good as we?  Arui. 
In that he spoke too fare.  Cym. 
And thou shalt dye for't.  Bel. 
We will dye all three,  
But I will prove that two one'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.  Arui. 
Your danger's ours.  Guid. 
And our good his.  Bel. 
Have at it then, by leave  
Thou hadst (great King) a Subject, who  
Was called Belarius.  Cym. 
What of him? He is a banished Traitor.  Bel. 
He it is, that hath  
Assumed this age: indeed a banished man,  
I know not how, a Traitor.  Cym. 
Take him hence,  
The whole world shall not save him.  Bel. 
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.  Cym. 
Nursing of my Sons?  Bel. 
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.  Cym. 
How? my Issue.  Bel. 
So sure as you, your Fathers: I (old Morgan)  
Am that Belarius, whom you sometime banished:  
Your pleasure was my near offence, my punishment  
Itself, and all my Treason that I suffered,  
Was all the harm I did. These gentle Princes  
(For such, and so they are) these twenty years  
Have I trained up; those Arts they have, as I  
Can 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 too'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 sweetest Companions in the World.  
The benediction of these covering Heavens  
Fall on their heads licks dew, for they are worthy  
To in-lay Heaven with Stars.  Cym. 
Thou weep'st, and speakest:  
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.  Bel. 
Be pleased awhile;  
This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore,  
Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:  
This Gentleman, my Cadwall, Aruiragus.  
Your younger Princely Son, he Sir, was leapt  
In a most curious Mantle, wrought by th' hand  
Of his Queen Mother, which for more probation  
I can with ease produce.  Cym. 
Guiderius had  
Upon his neck a Mole, a sanguine Star,  
It was a mark of wonder.  Bel. 
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.  Cym. 
Oh, what am I  
A Mother to the birth of three? Near Mother  
Rejoiced deliverance more: Blessed, pray you be,  
That after this strange starting from your Orbs,  
You may reign in them now: Oh Imogen,  
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdom.  Imo. 
No, my Lord:  
I have got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers,  
Have we thus met? Oh never say hereafter  
But I am truest speaker. You called me Brother  
When I was but your Sister: I you Brothers,  
When we were so indeed.  Cym. 
Did you ere meet?  Arui. 
I my good Lord.  Gui. 
And at first meeting loved,  
Continued so, until we thought he died.  Corn. 
By the Queen's Dram she swallowed.  Cym. 
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 Brother? How first met them?  
Why fled you from the Court? And whether these?  
And your three motives to the Battle? with  
I know not how much more should be demanded,  
And all the other by-dependances  
From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place  
Will serve our long Interrogatories. See,  
Posthumus Anchors upon Imogen;  
And she (like harmless Lightning) throws her eye  
On him: her Brothers, 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.  
Thou art my Brother, so we'll hold thee ever.  Imo. 
You are my Father too, and did relieve me:  
To see this gracious season.  Cym. 
All o'erjoyed  
Save these in bonds, let them be joyful too,  
For they shall taste our Comfort.  Imo. 
My good Master, I will yet do you service.  Luc. 
Happy be you.  Cym. 
The forlorn Soldier, that no Nobly fought  
He would have well becomed this place, and graced  
The thank of a King.  Post. 
I am Sir  
The Soldier that did company these three  
In poor beseeming: 'twas a fitment for  
The purpose I then followed. That I was he,  
Speak jachimo, I had you down, and might  
Have made you finish.  jach. 
I am down again:  
But now my heavy Conscience sinks my knee,  
As than your force did. Take that life, beseech you  
Which I so often own: but your Ring first,  
And here the Bracelet of the truest Princess  
That ever swore her Faith.  Post. 
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.  Cym. 
Nobly doomed:  
we'll learn our Freeness of a Son-in-law:  
Pardon's the word to all.  Arui. 
You holp us Sir,  
As you did mean indeed to be our Brother,  
Joyed are we, that you are.  Post. 
Your Servant Princes▪ Good my Lord of Rome  
Call forth your Soothsayer: As I slept, me thought  
Great jupiter upon his Eagle backed  
Appeared to me, with other sprightly 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.  Luc. 
Philarmonus.  Sooth. 
here, my good Lord.  Luc. 
Read, and declare the meaning.  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:  
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 clipped about  
With this most tender Air.  Cym. 
This hath some seeming.  Sooth. 
The lofty Cedar, Royal Cymbeline  
Personates thee: And thy lopped Branches, point  
Thy two Sons forth: who by Belarius stolen  
For many years thought dead, are now revived  
To the Majestic Cedar joined; whose Issue  
Promises Britain, Peace and Plenty.  Cym. 
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 wont 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.  Sooth. 
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 yet this scarse-cold-Battaile, at this instant  
Is full accomplished. For the Roman Eagle  
From South to West, on wing soaring aloft  
Lessened herself, and in the Beams o' th' Sun  
So vanished; which foreshowed our Princely Eagle  
Th' Imperial Caesar, should again unite  
His Favour, with the Radiant Cymbeline,  
Which shines here in the West.  Cym. 
Laud we the Gods,  
And let our crooked Smokes climb to their Nostrils  
From our blessed Altars. Publish we this Peace  
To all our Subjects. Set we forward: Let  
A Roman, and a British Ensign wave  
Friendly together: so through Luds-Towne 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 washed) with such a Peace.  Exeunt.   
FINIS.   

Printed at the Charges of W. Jaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley, 1623.