V THE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Mr WILLIAM SHAKESPEARES COMEDIES, HISTORIES, TRAGEDIES, & POEMS VOL. I. GEORGE LONDON NEWNES, MDCCCXCVI. LIMITED THE GETTY CENTER LIBRARY CONTENTS PAGE The Tempest 1 Two Gentlemen op Verona ... 81 Merry Wives of Windsor . . .161 Measure for Measure .... 2f>7 \ f I THE TEMPEST DRAMATIS PERSON JE. Alonso, King of Naples. Sebastian, his brother. Prospero, the right Duke of Milan. Antonio, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. Ferdinand, son of the King of Naples. Gonzalo, an honest old Counsellor. Adrian, Francisco, ) L,ords - Caliban, a savage 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, ^| Ceres, Juno, Nymphs, Reapers, j Other Spirits attending on Prospero. Scene : A ship at sea : an uninhabited island, THE TEMPEST ACT I. Scene 1. — On a Ship at Sea : a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. Enter a Ship-master and a Boatsivai n. Mast. Boatswain ! Boats. Here, master ; what cheer ? Mast. Good, speak to the mariners : fall to 't, yarely,* or we run ourselves aground ; [qui. ki y bestir, bestir. [Exit. Enter Mariners. Boats. Heigh, my hearts ! eheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare ! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle. J t U w (ii^ 4iw—kiw» U j i i lj T gl 1 Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others. Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master ? Play the men. Boats. I pray now, keep below. Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ? Boats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our labour. Keep your cabins ; you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the sea is. Hence ! What cares 3 The Tempest these roarers for the name of king? To cabin ; silence ! trouble us not. Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boats. None that I love more than myself. You are a counsellor ; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more. Use your authority ; if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts ! Out of our way, 1 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 born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt Enter Boatswain. Boats. Down with the topmast ! yare ! lower, lower ! Bring her to try wi' the main-course. [A cry within.] A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office. Enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo. Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ? Seb. A plague o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog ! Boats. Work you, then. Ant Hang, cur, hang, you wkmmm 9 insolent noise-maker ! .We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. Gon. I '11 warrant him for drowning ; though 4 Act I Scene 2 the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, »***» Hi twuiia j i mil < 1 1 i i 1 . Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ! set her two courses. Off to sea again ; lay her off. Enter Mariners xcet. Mariners. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost! Boats. What ! must our mouths be cold ? Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let 's assist them, For our case is as theirs. Seb. I 'in out of patience. Ant. We are merely* cheated of our [absolutely lives by drunkards. This wide-chapp'd rascal, — would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides ! Gon. He'll be hang'd y< t , Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid'st to glut* him. [swallow [A confused noise within. 1 Mercy on us ! — 'We split, we split!' * Farewell, my wife and children ! 9 * Farewell, brother!' 'We split, we split, we split ! '] Ant. Let's all sink with the king. [Exit. Seb. Let 's take leave of him. [Exit. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit Scene 2. The Island. Before Prospero's Cell. En ter Prospero and Miranda, Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. 5 The Tempest The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suff er'd "With those that I saw suffer ! A brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart ! Poor souls, they per- ish'd ! Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere* [before It should the good ship so have swallow'd and The fraughting* souls within her. [constituting freights Pros. Be collected ; No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There 's no harm done. Mir. O, woe the day I 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 thoti art, nought knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. Mir. 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 : [Lays down his mantle. Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes ; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely order'd, that there is no soul, 6 Act I Scene 2 No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down ; For thou must now know farther. Mir. You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding, 'Stay, not yet.' Pj*os. The hour 's now come ; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came into this cell ? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old. Mir. 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. Mir. 'Tis far off, And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me ? 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. Mir. 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. Mir. Sir, are not you my father ? 7 The Tempest 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. Mir. 0 the heavens ! What foul play had we, that we came from thence ? Or blessed was 't we did ? Pros. Both, both, my girl ; By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence, But blessedly holp* hither. [helped Mir. 0, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen* that I have turn'd [grief you to, Which is from my remembrance ! Please you, farther. Pros. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio, — I pray thee, mark me, — that a brother should Be so perfidious ! He whom, next thyself, Of all the world I lov'd, 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 trans- ported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle — Dost thou attend me ? Mir. Sir, most needfully. Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who to advance, and who To trash* for overtopping, new created [check 8 Act I Scene 2 The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or else new form'd 'em ; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state To what tune pleas'd his ear, that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, And suck'd my verdure out on 't. Thou attend'st not. Mir. 0, 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, O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother Awak'd an evil nature ; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in it 's 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 oik* Who having unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie — he did believe He was indeed the duke, out o' the subst it ill ion, And executing the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative ; hence his am nit ion growing,— Dost thou hear ? Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafne js. Pros. To have no screen between thifl part he play'd And him he play'd it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man ! my library Was dukedom large enovigh. Of temporal royalties 9 The Tempest He thinks me now incapable ; confederates — So dry he was for sway — wi' the King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom yet unbow'd — alas, poor Milan ! — To most ignoble stooping. Mir. 0 the heavens ! Pros. Mark his condition, and the event ; then tell me If this might be a brother. Mir. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother ; < i ion nl )f\\ i\[\, \\ ]m* +*m±m*m*J*+±mm*m. Pros. 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' the premises, Of homage and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother ; whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan ; and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. Mir. Alack, for pity ! I, not remembering how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again ; it is a hint That wrings my eyes to 't. Pros. Hear a little further, And then I '11 bring thee to the present business Which now 's upon 's ; without the which this story Were most impertinent. Mir. Wherefore did they not IO Act I Scene 2 That hour destroy us ? Pros, 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 prepar'd A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us ; to sigli To the winds whose pity, sighing back again. Did us but loving wrong. Mir. Alack, what trouble Was I then to you ! Pros. 0, a cherubin Thou wast, that did preserve me. Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burthen groan 'd ; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. Mir. How came we ashore ? Pros. 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 steaded much. So, of his gentleness, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, The Tempest From mine own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. Mir. Would I might But ever see that man ! Pros. Now I arise. [Restcmes his mantle. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arriv'd ; 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 ? Pros. Know thus far forth : By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore ; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more ques- tions ; Thou art inclin'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulness, And give it way. I know thou canst not choose. [Miranda sleeps. Come away, servant, come ! I am ready now ; Approach, my Ariel, come ! Enter Ariel. Ariel. All hail, great master ! grave sir, hail ! I come To answer thy best pleasure ; be 't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. 12 4 Act I Scene 2 Pros. Hast thou, spirit, Perf orm'd to point the tempest that I bade thee ? Ariel. To every article. I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flam'd amazement ; sometime I 'd divide, And burn in many places ; on the topmast, The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame dis- tinctly, Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors C the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. Pros. My brave spirit ! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason ? Ariel. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all afire with me ; the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, — then like reeds, not hair, — Was the first man that leap'd ; cried, ' Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.' Pros. Why, that 's my spirit ! But was not this nigh shore ? Ariel. Close by, my master. »3 The Tempest Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe ? Ariel. Not a hair perish'd ; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before : and, as thou bad'st me, In troops I have dispers'd 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. Pros. Of the king's ship The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd, And all the rest o' the fleet. Ariel. Safely in harbour Is the king's ship ; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still- vex'd Bermoothes,* there [Bermudas she 's hid ; The mariners all under hatches stow'd, Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, I have left asleep ; and for the rest o' the fleet, Which I dispers'd, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king's ship wrack'd, And his great person perish. Pros. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd ; but there 's more work. What is the time o' the day ? Ariel. Past the mid season. Pros. At least two glasses : the time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ariel. Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give me pains, 14 Act I Scene 2 Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. Pros. How now ? moody ? What is 't thou canst demand ? Ariel. My liberty. Pros. Before the time be out ? no more ! Ariel. I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service ; Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise To bate me a full year. Pros. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee ? Ariel. No. Pros. Thou dost ; and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o' the earth When it is bak'd with frost. Ariel. I do not, sir. Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing ! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her ? Ariel. No, sir. Pros. Thou hast. Where was she born ? speak ; tell me. Ariel. Sir, in Algier.* [Algiers Pros. O, was she so ? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible 15 The Tempest To enter human hearing, from Algier, Thou know'st, was banish'd ; for one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true ? Ariel. Ay, sir. Pros, This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant ; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine ; within which rift Imprison 'd thou didst painfully remain A dozen years ; within which space she died, And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island — Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp, hag-born — not honour'd with A human shape. Ariel, Yes, Caliban her son. Pros. Dull thing, I say so ; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in ; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo ; it was mine art, When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape 16 Act I Scene 2 The pine, and let thee out. Ariel. I thank thee, master. Pros. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. Ariel, Pardon, master ; I will be correspondent to command, And do my spriting gently. Pros. Do so, and after two days I will discharge thee. Ariel, That 's my noble niaM er 1 What shall I do? say what ; what shall I do? Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' tin' 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 wit h dili- gence ! [Exit Ariel. Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept Avell ; Awake ! Mir. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Pros. Shake it off. Come on ; We '11 visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. Mir. 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. Pros. But, as 't is, "We cannot miss him ; he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us. — What, ho ! slave ! Caliban ! Thou earth, thou ! speak. Cat. [Within], There's wood enough within. i B *7 The Tempest Pros. Come forth, I say ! there 's other busi- ness for thee ; Come, thou tortoise ! when ? — Enter Ariel, like a water-nymph. Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. Ariel. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth ! Enter Caliban. Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er ! Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island 's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest first, Thou strok'dst me and mad'st 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 lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, 18 Act I Scene 2 The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile. Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king ; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' the island. Pros. Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness ! I have us'd thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg'd thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. Cal. O ho, O ho ! would 't had been done ! Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pros. Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other ; when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou Deservedly confin'd into this rock, Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison. *9 The Tempest 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. Shrug'st thou, malice ? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I '11 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. [Aside] I must obey ; his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Pros. So, slave ; hence ! [Exit Caliban. Enter Ferdinand, and Ariel, invisible, playing and singing. Ariel's Song. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands : Curtsied when you have, and kissed The wild waves whist, Foot it featly* here and there ; [neatly And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Hark, hark! [Burthen, dispersedly, within. Bow-wow.] The watch-dogs bark. [Bzcrthen, within. Bow-wow.] Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-doodle-do. Fer. "Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth ? 20 Act I Scene 2 It sounds no more ; and, sure, it waits upon Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wrack, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air ; thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. — No, it begins again. Ariel's Song. Full fathom five thy f (if her lies ; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were h is eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a eea-cha nge Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: [Burthen, within. Ding-dong.} Hark! note I hear them — Ding-do)ig, bell. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. I hear it now above inc. Pros. The fringed curtains of thine vxc ad- vance, And say what thou seest yond. Mir. ' * What is 't ? a spirit ? Lord, how it looks about ! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. Pros. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps and hat li such senses As we have : such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wrack ; and, but he 's something stain'd With grief that 's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him 21 The Tempest 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. Pros. [Aside], It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit I I '11 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 I If you be maid or no ? Mir. No wonder, sir, But certainly a maid. Fer. My language ! heavens ! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 't is spoken. Pros. How ! the best ? What wert 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 wrack 'd. Mir. Alack, for mercy ! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords ; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. Pros. [ Aside]. The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could cont rol thee, 22 Act I Scene 2 If now 't were fit to do 't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this.A[To him] A word, good sir ; I fear you have done yourself some wrong : a Mir. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first That e'er I sigh'd for ; pity move my father To be inclin'd my way ! Fer. O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I '11 make you The Queen of Naples. Pros. Soft, sir ! one word more. [Aside] They are both in either's powers ; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. — [To him] One word more ; I charge thee That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not, and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on 't. 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. Pros. [To Ferdinand] Follow me. — Speak not you for him ; he'sa traitor. — Come, I '11 manacle thy neck and feet together : Sea-water shalt thou drink ; thy food shall be The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow ! word. The Tempest Fer. No, I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. [He drazvs, and is charmed from moving. Mir. 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 mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt : come from thy ward ; For I can here disarm thee with this stick, And make thy weapon drop. Mir. Beseech vou, father ! Pros. Hence ! hang not on my garments. Mir. Sir, have pity ; I '11 be his surety. Pros. Silence ! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee I What! An advocate for an impostor ! hush ! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban ; foolish wench ! To the most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels. Mir. My affections Are, then, most humble ; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. Pros. [ To Ferdinand] 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, *4 Act II Scene 1 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' the earth Let liberty make use of ; space enough Have I in such a prison. Pros. [Aside] It works. — [To Ferdinand] Come on. — Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !— Follow me, — [To Ariel] Hark what thou else shalt do me. Mir. Be of coin t ort. My father's of a better nature, sir, Than 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 the syllable. Pros. Come, follow. — Speak not for him. [Exeunt. ACT II. Scene 1. — Another Part of the Island. Enter Aloiiso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gon::(do, Adrian, Francisco, and others. Gon. 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 mer- chant, 25 The Tempest 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. Alon. Prithee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er 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 entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer — Seb. A dollar. Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed ; you have x spoken truer than you purpos'd. ^/^ 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 begins to crow ? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockerel. Seb. Done. The wager ? Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match ! Adrian. Though this island seem to be de- sert, — Ant. Ha, ha, ha ! 26 Act II Scene 1 Seb. So, you 're paid. Adrian. Uninhabitable, and almost inacces- sible, — Seb. Yet,— Adrian. Yet, — Ant. He could not miss 't. Adrian. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.* [temperature Ant. Temperance was a delicate wenc h. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd. Adrian. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. Ant. Or as 't were perfumed by a fep. Gon. Here is every thing ad \a ntageous 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 rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit, — Seb. As many vouched rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses, being rather new- dyed than stained with salt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not sav he lies ? w Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the 27 The Tempest marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, ana we prosper well in our return. Adrian. 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 ^Eneas' too ? Good Lord, how you take it ! Adrian. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that ; she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adrian. 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. Ay? 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 e'er came there. Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido ! ay, widow Dido. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it ? I mean, in a sort. 28 Act II Scene 1 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 far from Italy remov'd I ne'er again shall see her. 0 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 flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him ; his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt He came alive to land. 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 banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on 't. Alon. Prithee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us ; and the fair soul herself 29 The Tempest Weigh' d, between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she 'd bow. We have lost your son, I fear, forever ; Milan and Naples have Moe* widows in them of this business' [more making, Than we bring men to comfort them : the fault's Your own. Alon. So is the dear'st o' the 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. Foul weather ? Ant. Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, — Ant. He 'd sow 't with nettle-seed. Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do ? Seb. Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Gon. V the commonwealth I would by con- traries Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; Letters should not be known ; riches, poverty, And use of service, none ; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth,* vineyard, [tillage none ; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil ; No occupation ; all men idle, all ; And women too* but innocent and pure ; No sovereignty ; — 30 Act II Scene 1 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 fort 1 1 , Of it own kind, all foison,*all abundance, [plenty 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, To excel the golden age. Seb. Save his majesty ! Ant Long live Gonzalo ! Go7i. 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. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Enter Ariel (invisible) playing solemn viusic. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 3 1 The Tempest 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. [All sleep except Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio. Alon. What, all so soon asleep ! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts ; I find They are inclin'd 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. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them ! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seb. Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink ? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep. Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent ; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian ? 0, what might ? No more. And yet methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be ; the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. Seb. What, art thou waking ? 32 Act II Scene 1 Ant. Do you not hear me spe ak ? oJt % fr P T lan *W, and tho! l teaS SUrely Out of thy sleep. What !« if X P f- , fc This is a strange repose tl h ? dldSt Sa ^ ? With eyes wide o pen ^ moving, P ' standl *g, "peaking, And yet so fast asleep. Ant. , , Thou let'st thy fort.fn^ f^'*™' wink'st De slee P~«ie, rather; Whiles thou art waking. Seb. rpi . There Waning in thysnorfs ; Trebles thee o'er. ' Wh ' ch to do > 1m/ T Ml We,1 » 1 am standing water Seb. y ° U how to flo "'. H Zf tary sloth instructs me - Do so ; to ebb If you but knew how von °' Whiles thus you mZkZ^iTT^^ You more invest it f Pkw ' 1 ' stll PP>ng it, Br their own fear or, loth. Whpn i, > • ttie memory wnen he is earth'd,— Wh suaded,- th here aIl "ost per- 1 c 33 The Tempest For he 's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade, — the king his son 's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he 's undrown'd As he that sleeps here swims. What great hope have you ! no hope that way is Another way so high a hope that even Ambition can not pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd ? Seb. He 's gone. Ant. Then, tell me, Who 's the next heir of Naples ? 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' the moon 's too slow, — till new-born chins Be rough and razorable ; she from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what 's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. 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 Seb. That he 's undrown'd. Ant. O, out of that ' no hope ' I have no hope Seb. Claribel. 34 Act II Scene 1 Seems to cry out, * How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples ? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them ; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps ; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this For your advancement ! Do you understand me? Seb. Methinks I do. Ant. And how does your content Tender your own good fortune ? Seb. I remembe: You did supplant your brother 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. Scb. But, for your conscience — Ant, Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe,* Ichilblain 'Twould put me to my slipper ; but I feei not This deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences, That stand 'twixtme and Milan, candied be they, And melt, ere they molest ! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he 's like, that 's dead ; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed forever ; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put 35 The Tempest This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They '11 take suggestion as a cat laps milk ; They '11 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 '11 come by Naples. Draw thy sword ; one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st, 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. [ They talk apart. 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 thee living. [Sings in Gonzalcts 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 ; Aivake ! A tvake ! Ant. Then let us both be sudden. Gon. [ Waking] Now, good angels Preserve the king ! [To Sebastian and Antonio] Why, how now? [To Alonso] Ho, awake ! [To Sebastian and Antonio] Why are you drawn ? wherefore this ghastly looking ? 36 Act II Scene 2 Alon. [ Waking] 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 ; did 't not wake you ? It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. 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 herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gkmzalo? Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a hum- ming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shak'd you, sir, and cried ; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn : there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place ; let 's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts I For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. Ariel. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done ; So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Excu nt. Scene 2. — Another Part of the Island. Entei* Caliban, with a burthen oficood. A no ise of thunder h card. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him 37 The Tempest By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, m the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em ; but For every trifle are they set upon me ; Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me, And after bite me ; then like hedgehogs, which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks at my footfall ; sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. — Enter Trinculo. Lo, now, lo ! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I '11 fall flat ; Perchance he will not mind me. Trim, Here 's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing ; I hear it sing i' the wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard* that would shed his [leather flagon liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head ; yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here ? a man or a fish ? dead or alive ? A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient and fishlike smell ; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in Eng- land now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : there would this monster make a man ; any strange beast there makes a man. 38 Act II Scene 2 When they will not give a doit* to [smallest coin relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man ! and his fins like arms ! Warm o' my troth I I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer ; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Ala-, the storm is come again I my best way is to creep under his gaberdine* ; there is no [smock-frock other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter Stephano, singing : a bottle in It is hand. Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea f Here shall 1 die ashore, — This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral. Well, here 's my comfort. [Drinks. [Sings] The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and h is mate, Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, a n m i i m »4— *^mmm±mmmmm±4^\t * J i l [i nln u didufr Uium mmmmimmmmm^mm^m^mmtkmm hi w uktu ngi i iiu* ,| I I— — I III | 11 1 ,11 1 Jill 111' Enter Proteus and Julia. Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well And will employ thee in some service present 1 v. Julia. In what you please ; I '11 do what I can. Pro. I hope thou wilt. — [ To Launce] How now, Where have you been these two days Loitering? Launce. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvi a the dog you bade me. Pro. And what says she to my little jewel ? Launce. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough f i >r such a present. Pro. But she received my dog ? Launce. No, indeed, did she not ; here have T brought him back again. Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me ? Launce. Ay, sir ; the other squirrel was stolen » K 145 Two Gentlemen of Verona from me by the hangman boys* [gallows birds, rascals in the market-place ; and then I offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater. Pro. Go get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne'er return again into my sight. Away, I say ! stay'st thou to vex me here ? A slave, that still an end turns me to shame ! [Exit Launce, 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 thou, for this I entertain thee. Go presently and take this ring with thee, Deliver it to Madam Silvia. She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me. Julia. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her token. She is dead, belike ? Pro. Not so ; I think she lives. Julia. Alas ! Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas ! Julia. I cannot choose But pity her. Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her ? Julia. Because methinks that she lov'd 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 ! 146 Act IV Scene 4 Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal This letter. That 's her chamber. Tell ray lady I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. [Exit Julia, How many women would do such a message ? Alas, poor Proteus ! thou hast 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 loves her, he despiseth me ; Because I love him, I must pity him. This ring I gave him when he parted from me, To bind him to remember my good will ; And now am I, unhappy messenger, To plead for that which I would not obtain, To carry that which I would have refus'd, To praise his faith which I would have disprais'd. I am my master's true-confirmed love, But cannot be true servant to my master, Unless I prove false traitor to myself. Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. Enter Silvia, attended. Gentlewoman, good day ! I pray you, be my mean To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she ? Julia. If you be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on. Sil. From whom ? Julia. From ray master, Sir Proteus, madam. Sil. 0, he sends you for a picture. 147 Two Gentlemen of Verona Julia. Ay, 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. Julia. Madam, please you peruse this letter. Pardon me, madam, I have unadvis'd Deliver'd you a paper that I should not ; This is the letter to your ladyship. Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. Julia. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. Sil. There, hold! I will not look upon your master's lines ; I know they are stuff 'd with protestations And full of new-found oaths, which he will break As easily as I do tear his paper. Julia. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. 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 profan'd the ring, Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. Julia. She thanks you. Sil. What say'st thou ? Julia. I thank you, madam, that you tender her. Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. Sil. Dost thou know her ? Julia. Almost as well as I do know myself ; To think upon her woes I do protest That I have wept a hundred several times. Sil. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath for- sook her. 148 Act IV Scene 4 Julia, I think she doth, and that 's her cause of sorrow. Sil. Is she not passing fair ? J ulia. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is. When she did think my master lov'd her well, She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ; But since she did neglect her looking-glass And threw her sun-expelling mask away, The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks, And pinch'd the li'y-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I. Sil. How tall was she ? Julia. About my stature ; for at Pentecost, When all our pageants of delight were playYl, Our youth got me to play the woman's part, And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, As if the garment had been made for me ; Therefore I know she is about my height. And at that time I made her weep agood, For I did play a lamentable part. Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight, Which I so lively acted with my tears That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, Wept bitterly ; and would I might be dead If I in thought felt not her very sorrow ! 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. [Eocit Silvia, with attendants. Julia. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her. — 149 Two Gentlemen of Verona A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful ! I hope my master's suit will be but cold, Since she respects my mistress' love so much. Alas, how love can trifle with itself ! Here is her picture. Let me see ; I think, If I had such a tire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers ! And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, Unless I flatter with myself too much. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow ; If that be all the difference in his love, I '11 get me such a colour'd periwig. Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine ; Ay, but her forehead 's low, and mine 's as high. What should it be that he respects in her But I can make respective in myself, If this fond Love were not a blinded god ? Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd ! And, were there sense in his idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. I '11 use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, That us'd me so ; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, To make my master out of love with thee ! [Exit ACT V. Scene 1.— Milan. An Abbey. Enter Eglamour. Egla. The sun begins to gild the western sky ; And now it is about the very hour That Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet me. 150 Act V Scene 2 She will not fail, for lovers break not hours, Unless it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition. See where she comes. Enter Silvia, Lady, a happy evening ! Sil. Amen, amen ! Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey-wall. I fear I am attended by some spies. Egla. Fear not ; the forest is not three leagues off; If we recover that, we are sure enough. [Exeunt . Scene 2.— The Same. The Duke's Palace. Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia. Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit ? Pro. 0, 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 '11 wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder. Julia. [Aside] But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes. Tliu. 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 ladies' eyes. Julia. [Aside] 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes ; For I had rather wink than look on them. Thu. How likes she my discourse ? Pro. Ill, when you talk of war. 151 Two Gentlemen of Verona Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace ? Julia. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. Thu. What says she to my valour ? Pro. 0, sir, she makes no doubt of that. Julia. [ Aside] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. Thu. What says she to my birth ? Pro. That you are well derived. Julia. [Aside] True ; from a gentleman to a fool. Thu. Considers she my possessions ? Pro. 0, ay ; and pities them. Thu. Wherefore? JtUia. [Aside] That such an ass should owe them. Pro. That they are out by lease. Julia. Here comes the duke. Enter Duke. Duke. How now, Sir Proteus ! hownow,Thurio ! Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late ? Thu. Notl. Pro. Nor I. Duke. Saw you my daughter ? Pro. Neither. Duke. Why then, She 's fled unto that peasant Valentine, And Eglamour is in her company. 'Tis true ; for Friar Laurence met them both, As he in penance wander'd through the forest. Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she, But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it ; Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick's cell this even, and there she was not. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. 152 Act V Scene 3 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, whither they are fled. Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [Exit Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. I '11 after, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour Than for the love of reckless Silvia. [Exit Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. [Exit. Julia. And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit Scene 3.— The Forest. Enter Outlaws with Silvia. 1st Oxit. Come, come, Be patient ; we must bring you to our captain. Sil. Athousand more mischances than this one Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 2nd Out. Come, bring her away. 1st Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her ? 3rd Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out- run us, But Moyses and Valerius follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood ; There is our captain. We '11 follow him that 's fled; The thicket is beset ; he cannot scape. 1st Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave. 153 Two Gentlemen of Verona Fear not ; he bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly. Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee ! [Exeunt. Scene 4.— Another Part of the Forest. Enter Valentine. Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man ! These shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall And leave no memory of what it was ! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain ! — What halloing and what stir is this to-day ? 'Tis sure, my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase. They love me well ; yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine ; who 's this comes here? Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia. 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 forc'd your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look ; 154 Act V Scene 4 A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. Vol. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear ! Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. 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 mak'st me most unhappy. Julia. [Aside] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, I would have been a breakfast to the beast, Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine, Whose life 's as tender to me as my soul ! And full as much, for more there cannot be, I do detest false perjur'd Proteus. Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look ! 0, 'tis the curse in love, and still approved, When women cannot love where they're belov'd ! Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd. Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths Descended into perjury, to love me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two ; And that 's far worse than none : better have none 155 Two Gentlemen of Verona Than plural faith, which is too much by one. Thou counterfeit to thy true friend ! Pro. In love Who respects friend ? Sil. All men but Proteus. Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form, I '11 woo you like a soldier, at arms' end, And love you 'gainst the nature of love, — force ye. Sil. O heaven ! Pro. I '11 force thee yield to my desire. Vol. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion ! Pro. Valentine ! Vol. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love, — For such is a friend now, — treacherous man ! Thou hast beguil'd my hopes ; nought but mine eye Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say I have one friend alive ; thou wouldst disprove me. Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deep'st. O time most accurst, '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 tender 't here ; I do as truly suffer As e'er I did commit. 156 Act V Scene 4 Vol. 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 pleas'd. By penitence the Eternal's wrath 's appeas'd ; And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. Julia. 0 me unhappy ! [Swoons. Pro. Look to the boy. Val. Why, boy ! why, wag ! how now ! what 's the matter ? Look up ; speak. Julia. O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done. Pro. Where is that ring, boy ? Julia. Here 'tis : this is it. Pro. How ! let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. Julia. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook : This is the ring you sent to Silvia. Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring ? At my depart I gave this unto Julia. Julia. And Julia herself did give it me ; And Julia herself hath brought it hither. Pro. How ! Julia ! Julia. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart. How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ! O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ! Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment, if shame live In a disguise of love. It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds. 157 Two Gentlemen of Verona Pro. Than men their minds ! 'tis true. O heaven ! were man But constant, he were perfect. That one error Fills him with faults, makes him run through all the sins ; Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy. More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ? Vol. Come, come, a hand from either. Let me be blest to make this happy close ; 'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever. Julia. And I mine. Enter Outlaws, with Duke and Thurio. Out. A prize, a prize, a prize ! Vol. Forbear, forbear, I say ! it is my lord the duke. — Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, Banished Valentine. Duke. Sir Valentine ! Thu. Yonder is Silvia ; and Silvia 's mine. Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death ; dome not within the measure of my wrath. Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again, Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands. Take but possession of her with a touch ; I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not ; I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou, To make such means for her as thou hast done, 158 Act V Scene 4 And leave her on such slight conditions. Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress' love. Know then, I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again. Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit, To which I thus subscribe : Sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman and well deriv'd ; Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd 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, whate Vi- ta be. Val. These banish'd men that I have kept withal Are men endued with worthy qualities. Forgive them what they have committed here And let them be recall'd from their exile : They are reformed, civil, full of good, And fit for great employment, worthy lord. Duke. Thou hast prevaiFd ; 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 ? 159 Two Gentlemen of Verona Vol, Please you, I '11 tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what hath fortuned. — Come, Proteus ; 'tis your penance but to hear The story of your loves discovered. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ; One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. [Exeunt. 160 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 161 DRAMATIS PERSONJE. Sir John Falstaff. Fenton, a gentleman. Shallow, a country justice. Slender, a cousin to Shallow. Page' / ^ w0 gentlemen dwelling at Windsor. William Page, a boy, son to Page. Sir Hugh Evans, a Welsh parson. Doctor Caius, a French physician. Host of the Garter Inn. Bardolph, ^ Pistol, \ sharpers attending on Falstaff. Nym, J Robin, page to Falstaff. Simple, servant to Slender. Rugby, servant to Doctor Caius. Mistress Ford. Mistress Page. Anne Page, her daughter. Mistress Quickly, servant to Doctor Caius. Servants to Page, Ford, etc. Scene : Windsor and the neighbourhood. 162 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR ACT I. Scene 1. — Windsor. Before Page's House. Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and Sir Hugh Evans. Shah Sir Hugh, persuade me not ; I will make a Star-chamber matter of it. If he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire. Slen. In the county of Gloucester, justice of peace and coram. Shah Ay, cousin Slender, and custalo- mm. [custos rotulorum Slen. Ay, and ratolorum too ; and a gentle- man born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero, in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero. Shah Ay, 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 luces* in their coat. [pikes Shah It is an old coat. Evans. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well : it agrees well, passant ; it is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love. Shah The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is an old coat. 163 Merry Wives of Windsor Slen. I may quarter, coz. Shal. You may, by marrying. Evans, It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. Shal. Not a whit. Evans. Yes, py 'r lady ; if he has a quarter of your coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures : but that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparage- ments unto you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my benevolence to make atone- ments and compremises between you. Shal. The council shall hear it ; it is a riot. Evans. It is not meet the council hear a riot ; there is no fear of Got in a riot. The council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot ; take your vizaments* [consideration in that. Shal. Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again, the swords should end it. Evans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it ; and there is also another device in my prain, which peradventure prings goot dis- cretions with it : there is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is pretty virginity. Slen. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman. Evans. It is that f ery person for all the orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed — Got deliver to a joyful resurrections ! — give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old. It were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. 164 Act I Scene 1 Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound ? Evans. Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny. Shal. I know the young gentlewoman ; she has good gifts. Evans. Seven hundred pounds and possi- bilities is goot gifts. Shal. Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff there? Evans. Shall I tell you a lie ? I do despise a liar as I do despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true. The knight, Sir John, is there ; and, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master Page. [Knocks. ] What, hoa ! Got pless your house here ! Page. [Within] Who's there? Enter Page. Evans. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice Shallow; and here young Master Slender, that peradventures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings. Page. I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. 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, la ! with my heart . Page. Sir, I thank you. Shal. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do. Page. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. Slen. How does your fallow * grey- [pale red 165 Merry Wives of Windsor hound, sir? I heard say he was outrun on Cotsall.* [Cotswold Page. It could not be judged, sir. Slen. You '11 not confess, you '11 not confess. Shal. That he will not. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault ; 'tis a good dog. Page. 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 ? Page. Sir,' he is within ; and I would I could do a good office between you. Evans. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. Shal. He hath wronged me, Master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed ; is not that so, Master Page? He hath wronged me ; indeed he hath ; at a word, he hath, believe me : Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wronged. Page. Here comes Sir John. Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you '11 complain of me to the king ? Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, 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 counsel ; you '11 be laughed at. 166 Act I Scene 1 Evans, Pauca verba, Sir John ; goot worts. Fal. Good worts* ? good cabbage! Slender, [roots I broke your head ; what matter have you against me ? Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you, and against your cony-catch- ing* rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol, [thieving They carried me to the tavern, and made me drunk, and afterwards picked my pockets. Bard. You Banbury cheese ! Slen. Ay, it is no matter. Pist. How now, Mephostophilus ! Slen. Ay, 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? Evans. Peace, I pray you. Now let us under- stand. There is three umpires in this matter, as I understand ; that is, Master Page, fidelicet Master Page ; and there is myself, fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter. Page. We three, to hear it and end it between them. Evans. Fery goot ; I will make a prief of it in my notebook, and we will afterwards ork upon the cause with as great discreetly as we can. Fal. Pistol! Pist. He hears with ears. Evans. The tevil and his tarn ! what phrase is this, 'he hears with ear' ? why, it is affectations. Fal. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse ? Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he, or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber 167 Merry Wives of Windsor again else, of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards, that cost me two shillings and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these gloves. Fal. Is this true, Pistol ? Evans. No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner ! — Sir John and master mine, [a weak sword blade I combat challenge of this latten bilbo.* Word of denial in thy labras* here ! [lips Word of denial ! froth and scum, thou liest ! Slen. By these gloves, then, 'twas he. Nym. Be avised, sir, and pass good humours : I will say 'marry trap' with you, if you run the nuthook's* humour on me ; that is [constable's the very note of it. Slen. By this hat, then, he in the red face had it ; for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk, yet I am not alto- gether an ass. Fal. What say you, Scarlet and John ? Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences. Evans. It is his five senses ; fie, what the ignorance is ! Bard. And being fap,* sir, was, as they [drunk say, cashiered ; and so conclusions passed the careers. Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too ; but 'tis no matter. I '11 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. Evans. So Got udge me, that is a virtuous mind. 168 Act I Scene 1 Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentlemen ; you hear it. Enter Anne Page, with wine; Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, following. Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; we '11 drink within. [Eovit Anne Page. Slen. O heaven ! this is Mistress Anne Page. Page. How now, Mistress Ford ! Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met: by your leave, good mistress. [Kisses Iter. Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome. Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner; come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness. [Exeunt all except Shalloxo, Slender, and Evans. Slen. I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. Enter Simple. How now, Simple ! where have you been ? I must wait on myself, must I? You have not the Book of Riddles about you, have you ? Sim. Book of Riddles ! why, did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake upon AU-hallowmas 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 afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do you understand me ? Slen. Ay, 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. Evans. Give ear to his motions, Master 169 Merry Wives of Windsor 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 'sa justice of peace in his country, simple though I stand here. Evans. But that is not the question ; the question is concerning your marriage. Shal. Ay, there 's the point, sir. Evans. Marry, is it, the very point of it ; to Mistress Anne Page. Slen* Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any reasonable demands. Evans. But can you affection the oman ? Let us command to know that of your mouth or of your lips ; for divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. Therefore, precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid ? Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her? Slen. I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that would do reason. Evans. Nay, Got's 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 ac- quaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another. I hope, upon 170 Act I Scene 1 familiarity will grow more contempt; but if you say, 4 Marry her,' I will marry her ; that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. Evans, It is a fery discretion answer ; save the fall is in the ort dissolutely : the ort is, according to our meaning, resolutely. His meaning is goot. ShaL Ay, I think my cousin meant well. Slen, Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la ! ShaL Here comes fair Mistress Anne. Re-enter Anne Page. Would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne ! Anne, The dinner is on the table ; my father desires your worships' company. ShaL I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne. Evans. Od's plessed will ! I will not be absence at the grace. [Exeunt Shallow and Evans. Anne. Will 't please your worship to come in, sir? Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily ; I am very well. Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, for- sooth. — Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my cousin Shallow. [Eooii Simple. ] A justice of peace sometimes may be beholding to his friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead ; but what though ? yet I live like a poor gentleman born. Anne. I may not go in without your worship ; they will not sit till you come. Slen. F faith, I'll eat nothing; I thank you as much as though I did. Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you. I 171 Merry Wives of Windsor bruised my shin the other day with playing at sword and dagger with a master of fence — three veneys* for a dish of stewed prunes — and, [thrusts by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so? be there bears i' the town? Anne. I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of. Slen. I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon quarrel at it as any man in England. You are afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you not ? Anne. Ay, indeed, sir. Slen. That's meat and drink to me, now. I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain ; but, I warrant you, the women have so cried and shrieked at it, that it passed : but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em ; they are very ill-favoured rough things. Re-enter Page. Page. Come, gentle Master Slender, come ; we stay for you. Slen. I '11 eat nothing, I thank you, sir. Page. By cock and pie, you shall not choose, sir! come, come. Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. Page. Come on, sir. Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. Anne. Not I, sir ; pray you, keep on. Slen. Truly, I will not go first; truly, la! I will not do you that wrong. Anne. I pray you, sir. Slen. I '11 rather be unmannerly than trouble- some. You do yourself wrong, indeed, la ! [Exeunt. 172 Act I Scene 3 Scene 2.— The Same. Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. Evans. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Cams' house, which is the way ; and there dwells one Mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer. Sim. Well, sir. Evans. Nay, it is petter yet. Give her this letter; for it is a oman that altogether 's ac- quaintance 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. Scene 3. — A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and Robin. Fal. Mine host of the Garter ! Host. What says my bully -rook? speak scholarly and wisely. Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my followers. Host. Discard, bully Hercules ; cashier : let them wag ; trot, trot. Fal. I sit at ten pounds a week. Host. Thou 'rt an emperor, Caesar, Keisar, and Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph ; he shall draw, he shall tap : said I well, bully Hector ? Fal. Do so, good mine host. Host. I have spoke; let him follow. — [To Bardolph] Let me see thee froth and lime. I am at a word ; follow. [Exit. Fal. Bardolpfc, follow him. A tapster is a 173 Merry Wives of Windsor good trade ; an old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered serving-man a fresh tapster. Go ; adieu. Bard. It is a life that I have desired. I will thrive. Pist. O base Hungarian wight ! wilt thou the spigot wield ? [Exit Bardolph. Nym. He was gotten in drink ; is not the humour conceited? Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder- box : his thefts were too open ; his filching was like an unskilful singer, he kept not time. Nym. The good humour is to steal at a minim's rest. Pist ' Convey,' the wise it call. 4 Steal ! ' foh ! a fico* for the phrase ! [fig Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. Pist. Why, then, let kibes* ensue. [sores Fal. There is no remedy ; I must cony-catch, I must shift. Pist. Young ravens must have food. Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town ? Pist. I ken the wight ; he is of substance good. Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. Pist. Two yards, and more. Fal. No quips now, Pistol ! — Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about ; but I am now about no waste ; I am about thrift. — Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife : I spy entertain- ment in her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation. I can construe the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be Englished rightly, is, ' I am Sir John Falstaff's.' Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated her ill, out of honesty into English. 174 Act I Scene 3 Nym. 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 legion of angels. Pist. As many devils entertain, and * To her, boy,' say I. Nym. The humour rises ; it is good : humour me the angels.* [gold coins Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her : and here another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes too, examined my parts with most judicious ceillades* ; sometimes the [knowing glances beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly. Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine. Nym. I thank thee for that humour. Fal. 0, 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 burn- ing-glass ! Here 's another letter to her : she bears the purse too ; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater* [fsclu'ut* r 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. Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side wear steel ? then, Lucifer take all. Nym. I will run no base humour ; here, take the humour-letter. I will keep the haviour of reputation. Fal. [To Robin] Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly ; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. 175 Merry Wives of Windsor Rogues, hence, avaunt ! vanish like hailstones, go ; Trudge, plod away o' the hoof ; seek shelter, pack I Falstaff will learn the humour of the age, — French thrift, you rogues ; myself and skirted page. [Exeunt Falstaff and Robin. Pist. Let vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd and fullam* holds, [hollow and loaded dice And high and low beguiles the rich and poor. Tester* I'll have in pouch when thou [sixpence shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk ! Nym. I have operations in my head which be humours of revenge. Pist. Wilt thou revenge ? Nym. By welkin and her star ! Pist . With wit or steel ? Nym. With both the humours, I ; I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. Pist. And I to Ford shall eke unfold How Falstaff, varlet vile, His dove will prove, his gold will hold, And his soft couch defile. Nym. My humour shall not cool. I will in- cense Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with yellowness, for the revolt of mine is dangerous : that is my true humour. Pist. Thou art the Mars of malecontents. I second thee ; troop on. [Exeunt. Scene 4. — A Room in Doctor Caius's House. Enter Mistress Quickly, Simple, and Rugby. Quick. 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 anybody in the house, here will 176 Act I Scene 4 be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English. Rug. I '11 go watch. Quick. Go ; and we '11 have a posset for 't soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. [Exit Rugby.] An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in house withal, and, I warrant you, no tell-tale nor no breed-bate.* His worst fault is, that he is [debate given to prayer ; he is something peevish that way : but nobody but has his fault ; but let that pass. — Peter Simple, you say your name is ? Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. Quick. And Master Slender 's your master ? Sim. Ay, forsooth. Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a glover's paring-knife ? Sim. No, forsooth; he hath but a little wee face with a little yellow beard, a Cain-coloured beard. Quick. A sof tly-sprighted man, is he not ? Sim. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head ; he hath fought with a warrener.* [a k^^r Quick. How say you ? 0, I should remember him ; does he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait ? Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune ! Tell Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your master. Anne is a good girl, and I wish — Re-enter Rugby. Rug. Out, alas ! here comes my master. [Exit. Quick. We shall all be shent.* — Run in [Molded here, good young man ; go into this closet : he i M 177 Merry Wives of Windsor will not stay long. [Shuts Simple in the closet] What, John Rugby ! John ! what, John, I say ! Go, John, go inquire for my master ; I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home. [Singing] And down, down, adown-a, etc. Enter Doctor Caius. Cains. Vat is you sing? I do not like dese toys. Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet un boitier vert, a box, a green-a box : do intend vat I speak ? a green-a box. Quick. Ay, forsooth ; I'll fetch it you. [Aside] I am glad he went not in himself ; if he had found the young man, he would have been horn-mad. Caius. Fe, f e, f e, f e ! ma f oi, il fait fort chaud. Je m'en vais a la cour — la grande affaire. Quick. Is it this, sir ? Caius. Oui ; mette le au mon pocket : 6.6- p&che, quickly. Vere is dat knave Rugby ? Quick. What, John Rugby ! John ! Re-enter Rugby. Rug. Here, sir ! Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby. Come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to de court. Rug. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long. Od's me ! Qu'ai-j'oublie* ! dere is some simples in my closet, dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind. Quick. Ay me, he '11 find the young man there, and be mad ! Caius. O diable, diable ! vat is in my closet ? Villain! larron* ! [Pulling Simple out.] [thief Rugby, my rapier! 178 Act I Scene 4 Quick, Good master, be content. Caius. Wherefore shall I be content-a ? Quick. The young man is an honest man. Caius. What shall de honest man do in my closet ? dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet. Quick. I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic. Hear the truth of it : he came of an errand to me from Parson Hugh. Caius. Veil. Sim. Ay, forsooth ; to desire her to — Quick. Peace, I pray you. Caius. Peace-ayourtongue. Speak-ayourtale. Sim. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master in the way of marriage. Quick. This is all, indeed, la! but I'll ne'er put my finger in the fire, and need not. Caius. Sir Hugh send-a you ? Rugby, bailie me some paper. Tarry you a little-a while. [Writes, Quick. [Aside to Simple] I am glad he is so quiet; if he had been thoroughly moved, you should have heard him so loud and so melan- choly. But notwithstanding, man, I '11 do you your master what good I can : and the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my master, — I may call him my master, look you, for I keep his house ; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself, — Sim. [Aside to Qxiickly] 'Tis a great charge to come under one body's hand. Quick. [Aside to Simple] Are you avised o' that ? you shall find it a great charge : and to be up early and down late ; but notwithstanding, — to tell you in your ear, I would have no words of 179 Merry Wives of Windsor it,— my master himself is in love with Mistress Anne Page ; but notwithstanding that, I know Anne's mind, — that's neither here nor there. Caius. You jack-a-nape, give-a this letter to Sir Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallenge : I will cut his troat in de park ; and I will teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest to meddle or make. You may be gone ; it is not good you tarry here. By gar, I will cut all his two stones ; by gar, he shall not have a stone to trow at his dog. [Exit Simple. Quick. Alas, he speaks but for his friend. Caius. It is no matter-a vor dat ; do not you tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself ? By gar, I vill kill de Jack priest; and I have appointed mine host of de J arteer to measure our weapon. By gar, I will myself have Anne Page. Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well. We must give folks leave to prate; what, the good-yer ! Caius. Rugby, come to the court with me. By gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your head out of my door. — Follow my heels, Rugby. [Exeunt Caixis and Rugby. Quick. You shall have An f ool's-head of your own. No, I know Anne's mind for that ; never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do, nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven. Fen. [ Within] Who 's within there ? ho ! Quick. Who 's there, I trow ? Come near the house, I pray you. Enter Fenton. Fen. How now, good woman ! how dost thou? Quick. The better that it pleases your good worship to ask. 1 80 Act I Scene 4 Fen, What news? how does pretty Mistress Anne ? Quick, 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 ? Quick, Troth, sir, all is in his hands above; but notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book, she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye ? Fen, Yes, marry, have I ; what of that ? Quick, Well, thereby hangs a tale : good faith, it is such another Nan ; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke bread: we had an hour's talk of that wart. I shall never laugh but in that maid's company ! But indeed she is given too much to allicholy and musing ; but for you — well, go to. 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, com- mend me. Quick, Will I? i 1 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. Quick, Farewell to your worship. [E.vit Fenton,] Truly, an honest gentleman : but Anne loves him not ; for I know Anne's mind as well as another does. — Out upon 't ! what have I forgot ? 181 Merry Wives of Windsor ACT II. Scene 1. — Before Page's House. Enter Mistress Page, with a letter, Mrs Page. What, have I escaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them ? Let me see. [Reads] * Ash me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor. You are not young, no more am I ; go to then, there' 's sympathy: you are merry, so am I; ha, ha! then there 1 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, His not a soldier- like phrase ; but I say, love me. By me, Thine oivn true knight , By day or night, Or any kind of light, With all his might For thee to fight, John Falstaef.' What a Herod of Jewry is this! 0 wicked, wicked world ! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant ! What an un weighed 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 '11 exhibit a bill in the parliament 182 Act II Scene 1 for the putting down of men. How shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be,-** Enter Mistress Ford. Mrs Ford. Mistress Page ! trust me, I was going to your house. Mrs Page. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very ill. Mrs Ford. Nay, I '11 ne'er believe that ; I have to show to the contrary. Mrs Page. Faith, but you do, in my mind. Mrs Ford. Well, I do then ; yet I say I could show you to the contrary. 0 Mistress Page, give me some counsel ! Mrs Page. What 's the matter, woman ? Mrs Ford. 0 woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour ! M?'s Page. Hang the trifle, woman ! take the honour. What is it? dispense with trifles; what is it ? Mrs Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so, I could be knighted. Mrs Page. What ? thou liest ! Sir Alice Ford ! These knights will hack* : and so [become hackn. thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. Mrs Ford. We burn daylight : here, read, read; perceive how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of men's liking ; and yet he would not swear, praised women's modesty, and gave such orderly and well- behaved reproof to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words, but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the 183 Merry Wives of Windsor Hundredth Psalm to the tune of 6 Green Sleeves.' What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease. Did you ever hear the like ? Mrs Page. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs ! To thy great com- fort in this mystery of ill opinions, here 's the twin-brother of thy letter ; but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for different names, sure, more, and these are of the second edition. He will print them, out of doubt ; for he cares not what he puts into the press, when he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess, and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man. Mrs Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words. What doth he think of us ? Mrs 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. Mrs Ford. Boarding call you it ? I '11 be sure to keep him above deck. Mrs 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 184 Act II Scene 1 him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawned his horses to mine host of the Garter. Mrs Ford, Nay, I will consent to act any villany against him that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. 0, that my husband saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy. Mrs Page. Why, look where he comes ; and my good man too. He 's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause ; and that I hope is an unmeasurable distance. Mrs Ford. You are the happier woman. Mrs Page. Let 's consult together against this greasy knight. Come hither. [ They retire. Enter Ford tvith Pistol, and Page with Nym. Ford. Well, I hope it be not so. Pist. Hope is a curtal* dog in some [with docked tail affairs ; Sir John affects thy wife. Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford. He loves the gallimaufry*; Ford, per- [medley pend. * [consider Ford. Love my wife ! Pist. With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou, Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels. O, odious is the name ! Ford. What name, sir ? Pist. The horn, I say. Farewell. Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night : Take heed, ere summer comes or cuckoo-birds do sing. — 185 Merry Wives of Windsor Away, Sir Corporal Nym !— Believe it, Page ; he speaks sense. [Exit. Ford. [Aside] I will be patient; I will find out this. Nym. [ To Page] And this is true ; I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours ; I should have borne the humoured letter to her, but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife ; there's the short and the long. My name is Corporal Nym ; I speak and I avouch ; 'tis true : my name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu. I love not the] humour of bread and cheese, and there's the humour of it. Adieu. [Exit. Page. 1 The humour of it,' quoth a' ! here 's a fellow frights English out of his wits. Ford. I Will seek out Falstaff. Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue. Ford. If I do find it,— well. Page. I will not believe such a Cataian,* [sharper though the priest o' the town commended him for a true man. Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow ; well. Page. How now, Meg ? [Mrs Page and Mrs Ford come forward. Mrs Page. Whither go you, George? Hark you. Mrs Ford. How now, sweet Frank ! why art thou melancholy ? Ford. I melancholy ! I am not melancholy. — Get you home, go. Mrs Ford. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head.— Now, will you go, Mistress Page ? Mrs Page. Have with you. You '11 come to dinner, George? [Aside to Mrs Ford] Look 186 Act II Scene 1 who comes yonder ; she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. Mrs Ford, [Aside to Mrs Page] Trust me, I thought on her ; she '11 fit it. Enter Mistress Quickly. Mrs Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne? Quick. Ay, forsooth ; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne ? Mrs Page. Go in with us and see ; we have an hour's talk with you. [Exeunt Mrs Page, Mrs Ford, and Mrs Quick///. Page. How now, Master Ford ! Ford. You heard what this knave told me, did you not ? Page. Yes ; and you heard what the other told me ? Ford. Do you think there is any truth in thei 1 1 ? Page. Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it. But these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a voke of his discarded men ; very rogues, now they be out of service. Ford. Were they his men ? Page. Marry, were they. Ford. I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the Garter ? Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should in- tend this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him ; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife, but I would be loath to turn them together. A man may be too confident. I would have nothing lie on my head. I cannot be thus satisfied. 187 Merry Wives of Windsor Page. Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes ; there is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse when he looks so merrily. Enter Host. How now, mine host ! Host. How now, bully-rook ! thou 'rt a gentle- man. — Cavalero-justice, I say ! Enter Shallow. 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, cavalero-justice; tell him, bully-rook. Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor. Ford. Good mine host o' the Garter, a word with you. [Drawing him aside. Host. What say est thou, my bully-rook ? Shal. [To Page] Will you go with us to behold it ? My merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons, and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be. [They converse apart. Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier ? Ford. None, I protest; but I'll give you a pottle* of burnt sack to give me recourse [tankard to him and tell him my name is Brook, — only for a jest. Host. My hand, bully : thou shalt have egress and regress ; said I well ? and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight. Will you go, mynheers ? x88 Act II Scene 2 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, stoccadoes, and I know not what: 'tis the heart, Master Page ; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. Host. Here, boys, here, here ! shall we wag ? Page. Have with you. I had rather hear them scold than fight. [Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Page. Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily. She was in his company at Page's house, and what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look further into 't ; and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed. [SooU, Scene 2. — A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff and Pistol. Fal. I will not lend thee a penny. Pist. 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 reprieves for you and your coach-fellow Nym, or else you had looked through the grate, like a geminy* of baboons. I am damned in hell [couple for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers and tall fellows ; and when Mistress 189 Merry Wives of Windsor Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took 't upon mine honour thou hadst it not. Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteen pence ? Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason ; thinkest thou I '11 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-hateh ! Go. You '11 not bear a letter for me, you rogue ! you stand upon your honour. Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, ay, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch ; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice* phrases, and your [ale-house bold-beating* oaths, under the shelter [browbeating of your honour ! You will not do it, you ! Pist. I do relent; what would thou more of man? Enter Robin. Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. Fal. Let her approach. Enter Mistress Quickly. Quick. Give your worship good morrow. Fal. Good morrow, good wife. Quick. Not so, an 't please your worship. Fal. Good maid, then. Quick. I '11 be sworn, As my mother was, the first hour I was born. Fal. I do believe the swearer. What with me ? Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two ? 190 Act II Scene 2 Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I '11 vouchsafe thee the hearing. Quick. There is one Mistress Ford, sir, — I pray, come a little nearer this ways. — I myself dwell with Master Doctor Caius, — Fal. Well, one Mistress Ford, you say, — Quick. 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. Quick. Are they so? God bless them and make them his servants ! Fal. Well, Mistress Ford, — what of her? Quick. 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, — Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of it; you have brought her into such a canaries* as 'tis wonderful. The best [quandary 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 alter letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart ; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye- wink of her. I had myself twenty angels given me this morning ; but I defy all angels, in any such sort, as they say, but in the way of honesty : and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them 191 Merry Wives of Windsor 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. Quick. 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 ? Quick. Ay, forsooth ; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot of : Master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas ! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him : he 's a very jealousy man ; she leads a very frampold* life with him, good heart, [quarrelsome Fal. Ten and eleven. — Woman, commend me to her ; I will not fail her. Quick. Why, you say well. But I have an- other messenger to your worship. Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too : and let me tell you in your ear, she 's as f artuous a civil modest wife, and one, I tell you, that will not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er be the other ; and she bade me tell your worship that her husband is seldom from home, but she hopes there will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote upon a man : surely I think you have charms, la ; yes, in truth. Fal, Not I, I assure thee ; setting the attrac- tion of my good parts aside, I have no other charms. Quick. Blessing on your heart for 't ! Fal. But, I pray thee, tell me this : has Ford's 192 Act II Scene 2 wife and Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me ? Quick. That were a jest indeed ! they have not so little grace, I hope ; that were a trick indeed ! But Mistress Page would desire you to send her your little page, of all loves : her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page ; and truly Master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in Windsor leads a better life than she does : do what she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as she will; and truly she deserves it, for if there be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You must send her your page ; no remedy. Fal. Why, I will. Quick. 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 ^<>< »d that children should know any wickedness : old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world. Fal. Fare thee well; commend nie to them both. There's my purse; I am yet thy debtor. — Boy, go along with this woman. [Exeunt Mi stress Quickly and Robin.] This news dis- tracts me ! Pist. This punk is one of Cupid's carriers. Clap on more sails ; pursue, up with your fights ! Give fire ! she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all ! [Exit. Fal. Sayest thou so, old Jack ? go thy ways ; I'll make more of thy old body than I have done. Will they yet look after thee? Wilt 1 N i93 Merry Wives of Windsor thou, after the expense of so much money, be now a gainer? Good body, I thank thee. Let them say 'tis grossly done ; so it be fairly done, no matter. Enter Bardolph. Bard. Sir John, there's one Master Brook below would fain speak with you and be ac- quainted with you, and hath sent your worship a morning's draught of sack. Fed. Brook is his name ? Bard. Ay, sir. Fal. Call him in. [Exit Bardolph.] Such Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflow such liquor. Ah, ha! Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompassed you ? go to ; via ! Re-enter Bardolph, with Ford disguised. Ford. Bless you, sir ! 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. [Exit Bardolph. Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much ; my name is Brook. Fal. Good Master Brook, I desire more ac- quaintance 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 194 Act II Scene 2 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 Brook ; I shall be glad to be your servant. Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar, — I will be brief with you, — and you have been a man long known to me, though I had never so good means, as desire, to make myself acquainted with you. I shall discover a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine own imperfection ; but, good Sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as you hear them unfolded, turn another into the register of your own, that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you yourself know how easy it is to be such an offender. 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, engrossed 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, 195 Merry Wives of Windsor 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 ; P%irsuing that that flies, and fuying what pursues.' Fal. Have you received no promise of satis- faction 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? Ford. When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some say, that though she appear honest to me, yet in other places she enlargeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd construc- tion 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 warlike, court- like, 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 exchange of it as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife. Use your art 196 Act II Scene 2 of wooing, win her to consent to yon; 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 your- self very preposterously. Ford. 0, 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 [exanu.U: to commend themselves ; I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are too-too strongly em- battled against me. What say you to 't, Sir John ? Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold wit li your money; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife. Ford. 0 good sir. Fal. I say you shall. Ford. Want no money, Sir John ; you shall want none. Fal. Want no Mistress Ford, INI aster Brook; you shall want none. I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment, — even as you came in to me, her assistant or go-between parted from me, — I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave her husband will be forth. Come you to 1 tie at night ; you shall know how I speed. Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, sir ? Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave ! I know 197 Merry Wives of Windsor 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-favoured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer, and there 's my harvest-home. Ford, I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him if you saw him. Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue ! I will stare him out of his wits ; I will awe him with my cudgel : it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Mnn»t»u' Dip s oli pi thou ok w lt InniiTifiT will jJiiiluiifjiiuj Np^wPMfcrtMP^pn Wciiilj| uiml li+»m mhmh iii mMi hiu ppii'n . Come to me soon at night. Ford's a knave, and I will aggra- vate his style ; thou, Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold. Come to me soon at night. [Fecit. Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this ! My heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident jealousy ? my wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made. Would any man have thought this ? See the hell of having a false woman ! My bed shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my re- putation gnawn at ; and I shall not only receive this villanous wrong, but stand under the adop- tion of abominable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Terms ! names ! Amaimon sounds well, Lucifer well, Barbason well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of fiends : but cuckold ! wittol*-cuckold ! the devil [submissive 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 198 Act II Scene 3 my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself. Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises ; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. God be praised for my jealousy ! Eleven o'clock the hour. I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it ; better three hours too soon than a minute too late. Fin iin ii 1 i in h 1 1 1 i miln lil ! ■ ulu i ld l [Exit Scene 3.— A Field near Windsor. Enter Cuius and Rugby. Caius. Jack Rugby ! Rug. Sir? Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack ? Rug. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet. Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come ; he has pray his Pible veil, dat 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. Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead so I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack ; I vill tell you how I vill kill him. Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. Caius. Villany, take your rapier. Rug. Forbear ; here 's company. Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and Page. Host. Bless thee, bully doctor ! Shal. Save you, Master Doctor Caius ! 199 Merry Wives of Windsor Page, Now, good master doctor ! Slen. Give you good morrow, sir. Cains. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for ? Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin,* [thrust to see thee traverse ; to see thee here, to see thee there ; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is he dead, my Francisco ? ha, bully ! What says my ^scula- pius? my Galen? my heart of elder*? [pithy, soft ha ! is he dead, bully Stale ? is he dead ? Cains. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld ; he is not show his face. Host. Thou art a Castilian, liingMiMBMfr! Hector of Greece, my boy ! Cains. I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. Shal. He is the wiser man, master doctor. He is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions. — Is it not true, Master Page ? Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace. Shal. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one. Though we are justices and doctors and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page. Page. 'Tis true, Master Shallow. Shal. It will be found so, Master Page. — Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace; you have 200 Act II Scene 3 showed yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient church- man. You must go with me, master doctor. Host. Pardon, guest- justice. — A word, Moun- seur Mock-water. Caius. Mock-vater ! vat is dat ? Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. Caius. By gar, den, I have as mush mock-vater as de Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog priest ! by gar, me vill cut his ears. Host. He will clapper-claw* thee tightly, [thrash bully. Caius. Clapper-de-claw ! vat is dat ? Host. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de- claw me ; for, by gar, me vill have it. Host. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Caius. Me tank you for dat. Host. And, moreover, bully, — but first, master guest, and Master Page, and eke Oavalero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. [Aside to them. Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he ? Host. He is there. See what humour he is in, and I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well ? Shah We will do it. Page, Shal., and Slen. Adieu, good master doctor. [Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest, for he speak for a jack-a-nape to Anne Page. Host. Let him die. Sheathe thy impatience, throw cold water on thy choler ; go about the fields with me through Frogmore. I will bring 20 1 Merry Wives of Windsor thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farm- house a-feasting, and thou shalt woo her. Cried game ? said I well ? Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat ; by gar, I love you, and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients. Host. For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page. Said I well ? Caius. By gar, 'tis good ; veil said. Host. Let us wag, then. Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Exeunt. ACT III. Scene 1. — A Field near Frogmore. Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. Evans. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic ? Sim. Marry, sir, the pitty-ward,* the [petty park park-ward, every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. Evans. I most f ehemently desire you you will also look that way. Sim. I will, sir. [Exit. Evans. Pless my soul, how full of cholers I am, and trempling of mind ! I shall be glad if he have deceived me. How melancholies I am ! i^**Mi^<»4iii^tfLiiMlii nl.iimt Inin 1 nine's f ii i n thti a i'ift i i B l im m my cowl ! 202 Act III Scene 1 [Sings] To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals ; There will we make our peds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow — Mercy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry.— [Sings] Melodious birds sing madrigals — Whenas I sat in Pabylon — And a thousand vagram posies. To shallow — Re-enter Simple. Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh. Evans. He 's welcome. [Sings] To shallow rivers, to whose falls — Heaven prosper the right ! What weapon s is he ? Sim. No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master Shallow, and another gentle- man, from Frogmore, over the stile, this way. Evans. Pray you, give me my gown ; or else keep it in your arms. Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. Shal. How now, master parson ! Good mor- row, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful. Slen. [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page ! Page. Save you, good Sir Hugh ! Evans. Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! Shal. What, the sword and the word ! do you study them both, master parson ? Page. And youthful still ! in your doublet and hose* this raw rheumatic day h [coat and breecheg Evans. There is reasons and causes for it. 203 Merry Wives of Windsor Page. We are come to you to do a good office, master parson. Evans. Fery well ; what is it ? Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw. Shal. I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of* his [indifferent to own respect. Evans. What is he ? Page. I think you know him ; Master Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician. Evans. Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge. Page. Why? Evans. He has no more knowledge in Hibbocrates 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. [ Aside] O sweet Anne Page ! Shal. It appears so by his weapons. Keep them asunder. — Here comes Doctor Caius. Enter Host, Caius, and Rugby. Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon. Shal. So do you, good master doctor. Host. Disarm them, and let them question ; let them keep their limbs whole and hack our English. Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word 204 Act III Scene 1 with your ear. Verefore vill you not meet-a me ? Evans, [Aside to Caius] Pray you, use your patience ; in good time. Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. Evans. [Aside to Caius] Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours ; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends. — [Aloud] I will knog ymmmmmmmimmimmtt your knave's cogscomb for missing your meetings and appointments. Caius. Diable ! Jack Rugby, mine host de Jarteer, have I not stay for him to kill him? have I not, at de place I did appoint ? Evans. As I am a Christians soul now, look you, this is the place appointed. I '11 be judg- ment by mine host of the Garter. Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh, soul-curer and body-curer ! Caius. Ay, dat is very good ; excellent. Host. Peace, I say! hear mine host of the Garter. Am I politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh ? no ; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so. Give me thy hand, celestial ; so. Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places ! your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. Come. Lay their swords to pawn. Follow me, lads of peace ; follow, follow, follow. Shal. Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentle- men, follow. 205 Merry Wives of Windsor Slen. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page ! [Exeunt Shallow, Slender, Page, and Host. Caius. Ha, do I perceive dat ? have you make-a de sot of us, ha, ha ? Evans. This is well ; he has made us his vlouting-stog.* I desire you that We [laughing stock may be friends ; and let us knog our prains to- gether to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging* companion, the host of the [cheating Garter. Cains. By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me vere is Anne Page ; by gar, he deceive me too. Evans. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow. [Exeunt. Scene 2.— A Street. Enter Mistress Page and Robin. Mrs 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 ttiine eyes, or eye your master's heels ? Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man than follow him like a dwarf. Mrs Page. 0, you are a flattering boy ; now I see you '11 be a courtier. Enter Ford. Ford. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you? Mrs Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home ? Ford. Ay ; and as idle as she may hang to- gether, for want of company. I think, if your iiusbands were dead, you two would marry. 206 Act III Scene 2 Mrs Page. Be sure of that, two other husbands. Ford. Where had you this pretty weather- cock? Mrs Page. 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 ! Mrs Page. He, he; I can never hit on 's name. There is such a league between my good man and he ! Is your wife at home indeed ? Ford. Indeed she is. Mrs Page. By your leave, sir. I am sick till I see her. [Exeunt Mrs Page and Robin. Ford. Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty mile, as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's inclination, he gives her folly motion and advantage ; and now she 's going to my wife, and Falstaff 's boy with her. A man may hear this shower sing in the wind. — And Falstaff's boy with her ! — Good plots, they are laid; and our revolted wives share damnation together. Well; I will take him, then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so-seeming Mrs Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Actaeon ; and to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim. [Clock strikes.] The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search ; there I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather praised for this than mocked ; for it is as posi- tive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is there. I will go. 207 Merry Wives of Windsor Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh Evans, Cains, and Rugby. Shah, Page, etc. Well met, Master Ford. Ford. Trust me, a good knot. I have good cheer at home, and I pray you all go with me. Shot. I must excuse myself, Master 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 than I '11 speak of. Shal. We have lingered about a match be- tween Anne Page" and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have our answer. Slen. I hope I have your good will, father Page. Page. You have, Master Slender, I stand wholly for you ; but my wife, master doctor, is for you altogether. Caius. Ah, be-gar ; and de maid is love-a me : my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush. Host. What say you to young Master Fenton ? he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May. He will carry 't, he will carry 't ; 'tis in his buttons ; he will carry % Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman is of no having : he kept com- pany with the wild prince and Poins ; he is of too high a region ; he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of my substance : if he take her, let him take her simply ; the wealth I have waits on my consent, and my consent goes not that way. Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you go home with me to dinner : besides your cheer, you shall have sport ; I will show you a monster. 208 Act III Scene 3 Master doctor, you shall go ; — so shall you, Master Page ; — and you, Sir Hugh. Shal. Well, fare you well. We shall have the freer wooing at Master Page's. [Exeunt Shallow and Slender. Caius. Go home, John Rugby ; I come anon. [Exit Rugby. Host. Farewell, my hearts. I will to my honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him. [Exit. Ford. [Aside] I think I shall drink in pipe- wine first with him ; I '11 make him dance. Will you go, gentles ? All. Have with you to see this monster. [Exeunt. Scene 3. — A Room in Ford's House. Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page. Mrs Ford. What, John !— What, Robert ! Mrs Page. Quickly, quickly ! Is the buck- basket* — [linen-basket Mrs Ford. I warrant. — What, Robin, I say ! Enter Servants with a basket. Mrs Page. Come, come, come. Mrs Ford, Here, set it down. Mrs Page. Give your men the charge ; we must be brief. Mrs Ford. Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert be ready here hard by in the brew- house ; and when I suddenly call you, come forth, and without any pause or staggering take this basket on your shoulders : that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters* in Datchet-mead, and [bleachers i o 2 °9 Merry Wives of Windsor there empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side. Mrs Page. You will do it ? Mrs Ford. I ha' told them over and over ; they lack no direction. Be gone, and come when you are called. [Exeunt Servants. Mrs Page. Here comes little Robin. Enter Robin. Mrs Ford. How now, my eyas - musket* ! what news with yOU. [sparrow-hawk Rob. My master, Sir John, is come in at your back-door, Mistress Ford, and requests your company. Mrs Page. You little Jack-a-Lent,* [a puppet have you been true to us? Rob. Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your being here and hath threatened to put me into everlasting liberty if I tell you of it ; for he swears he '11 turn me away. Mrs Page. Thou'rt a good boy; this secrecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new doublet and hose. — I '11 go hide me. Mrs Ford. Do so.— Go tell thy master I am alone. [Exit Robin.] Mistress Page, remember you your cue. Mrs Page. I warrant thee ; if I do not act it, hiss me. [Exit. Mrs Ford. Go to, then: we'll use this un- wholesome humidity, this gross watery pum- pion* ; we '11 teach him to know turtles [pumpkin from jays. Enter Falstaff. Fat. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel ? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long 2IO Act III Scene 3 enough ; this is the period of my ambition. O this blessed hour ! Mrs Ford. O sweet Sir John ! Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog,* I [wheedle cannot prate, Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish : I would thy husband were dead, I '11 speak it before the best lord, I would make thee my lady. Mrs 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-tire, the tire- valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance. MrsFord. A plain kerchief, Sir John; my brows become nothing else, — nor that well neither. Fal. By the Lord, thou art a traitor to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute courtier; and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a semi-circled farthingale.* I see what thou wert, [hooped petticoat if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature thy friend. Come, thou canst not hide it. Mrs 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 many of these lisping hawthorn-buds, that come like women in nu n s apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple time ; I cannot : but I love thee, none but thee, and thou deservest it. Mrs Ford. Do not betray me, sir. I fear you love Mistress Page. 211 Merry Wives of Windsor Fal. Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by the counter*-gate, which IS as [counter prison hateful to me as the reek of a limekiln. Mrs Ford. Well, heaven knows how I love you, and you shall one day find it. Fal. Keep in that mind ; I '11 deserve it. Mrs Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do ; or else I could not be in that mind. Rob. [ Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford ! here 's Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently. Fal. She shall not see me ; I will ensconce me behind the arras.* [tapestry Mrs Ford. Pray you, do so ; she 's a very tattling woman. — [Falstaff hides himself. Re-enter Mistress Page and Robin. What 's the matter ? how now ! Mrs Page. O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You're shamed, you're overthrown, you're undone for ever ! Mrs Ford. What 's the matter, good Mistress Page ? Mrs Page. O well-a-day, Mistress Ford ! hav- ing an honest man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion ! Mrs Ford. What cause of suspicion ? Mrs Page. What cause of suspicion ! — Out upon you ! how am I mistook in you ! Mrs Ford. Why, alas, what 's the matter ? Mrs 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. 212 Act III Scene 3 Mrs Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope. Mrs 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 be- fore 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 reputa- tion, or bid farewell to your good life for ever. Mrs 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. Mrs Page. For shame! never stand 'you had rather 1 and 1 you had rather ; ' your husband 's here at hand ; bethink you of some conveyance : in the house you cannot hide him. O, how have you deceived me ! Look, here is a basket : if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here ; and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking* : or, it is whiting- [wtd time, send him by your two men to Datcht t- mead. Mrs Ford. He 's too big to go in there. What shall I do ? Fal. [Coming forward] Let me see't, let me see 't, 0, let me see 't ! I '11 in, I '11 in. Follow your friend's counsel. I '11 in. Mrs Page. What, Sir John Falstaff! Are these your letters, knight ? Fal. I love thee. Help me away. Let mo creep in here. I '11 never — [Gets into the basket ; they cover him with foul linen. Mrs Page. Help to cover your master, boy. — 213 Merry Wives of Windsor Call your men, Mistress Ford. — You dissembling knight ! Mrs Ford. What, John ! Robert ! John ! [Exit Robin. Re-enter Servants. Go take up these clothes here quickly. — Where's the cowl-staff*? look, [pole for carrying baskets how you drumble* ! — Carry them to the [dawdle laundress in Datchet-mead ; quickly, come. Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans. Ford. Pray you, come near : if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me ; then let me be your jest; I deserve it. — How now ! whither bear you this ? Serv. To the laundress, forsooth. Mrs Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it ? You were best meddle with buck- washing. Ford. Buck ! I would I could wash myself of the buck ! Buck, buck, buck ! Ay, buck ; I warrant you, buck, and of the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket. ] Gentlemen, I have dreamed to-night; I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys : ascend my chambers ; search, seek, find out : I '11 warrant we'll unkennel the fox. — Let me stop this way first. [Locking the door.] So, now uncape. Page. Good Master Ford, be contented; you wrong yourself too much. Ford. True, Master Page. — Up, gentlemen ; you shall see sport anon : follow me, gentle- men. [Exit. Evans. This is fery fantastical humours and jealousies. 214 Act III Scene 3 Caius. By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France ; it is not jealous in France. Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issue of his search. [Exeunt Page, Caius, and Evans. Mrs Page. Is there not a double excellency in this? Mrs Ford. I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir John. Mrs Page. What a taking was he in when your husband asked what was in the basket ! Mrs Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of washing ; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit. Mrs Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal ! I would all of the same strain were in the same distress. Mrs Ford. I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff's being here ; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now. Mrs 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. Mrs Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throw- ing into the water ; and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment ? Mrs Page. We will do it ; let him be sent for to-morrow, eight o'clock, to have amends. Re-enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans. Ford. I cannot find him; may be the knave bragged of that he could not compass. Mrs Page. [Aside to Mrs Ford ] Heard you that ? Mrs Ford. You use me well, Master Ford, do you? 215 Merry Wives of Windsor Ford. Ay, I do so. Mrs Ford. Heaven make you better than your thoughts ! Ford. Amen ! Mrs Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford. Ford. Ay, ay ; I must bear it. Evans. If there be any pody in the house, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment ! Caius. By gar, nor I too ; dere is no bodies. Page. Fie, fie, Master Ford! are you not ashamed? What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha' your dis- temper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle. Ford. 'Tis my fault, Master Page ; I suffer for it. Evans. You suffer for a pad conscience : your wife is as honest a omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too. Caius. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman. Ford. Well, I promised you a dinner. — Come, come, walk in the Park. I pray you, pardon me ; I will hereafter make known to you why I have done this. — Come, wife ; — come, Mistress Page. I pray you, pardon me ; pray heartily, pardon me. Page. Let 's go in, gentlemen ; but, trust me, we'll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast : after, we '11 a-birding together ; I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so ? Ford. Any thing. Evans. If there is one, I shall make two in the company. 216 Act III Scene 4 Caius. If dere be one or two, I shall make-a de tird. Ford. Pray you, go, Master Page. Evans. I pray you now, remembrance to- morrow on the lousy knave, mine host. Caius. Dat is good ; by gar, with all my heart ! Evans. A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries ! [Exeunt. Scene 4. — A Room in Page's House. Enter Fenton and Anne Page. Fent. I see I cannot get thy father's love ; Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. Anne. Alas, how then ? Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. He doth object I am too great of birth, And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, I seek to heal it only by his wealth. Besides these, other bars he lays before me, — My riots past, my wild societies, — And tells me 'tis a thing impossible I should love thee but as a property. Anne. May be he tells you true. Fent. No, heaven so speed me in my time to come ! Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne. Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value Than stamps* in gold or sums in sealed bags ■; [coins And 'tis the very riches of thyself That now I aim at. Anne. Gentle Master Fenton, Yet seek my father's love ; still seek it, sir. If opportunity and humblest suit Cannot attain it, why, then, — hark you hither! [They converse apart. 217 Merry Wives of Windsor Enter Shallow, Slender, and Mistress Quickly. Shal. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly ; my kinsman shall speak for himself. Slen. I '11 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 af eard. Quick. Hark ye ; Master Slender would speak a word with you. Anne. I come to him. [Aside] This is my father's choice. 0, what a world of vile ill-fa vour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! Quick. 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, Mistress Anne ; my uncle can tell you good jests of him. — Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle. Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. Slen. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any woman in Gloucestershire. Shal. He will maintain you like a gentle- woman. Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, under the degree of a squire. Shal. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure. Anne. Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself. Shal. Marry, I thank you for it ; I thank you for that good comfort.— She calls you, coz; I '11 leave you. 218 Act III Scene 4 Anne, Now, Master Slender, — Slen. Now, good Mistress Anne, — Anne. What is your will ? Slen. My will ! 'od's heartlings, that 's a pretty jest indeed ! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven ; I am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise. Anne. I mean, Master 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 motions : if it be my luck, so ; if not, happy man be his dole ! They can tell you how things go better than I can : you may ask your father ; here he comes. Enter Page and Mistress Page. Page. Now, Master Slender ! — Love him, daughter Anne. — Why, how now ! what does Master Fenton here ? You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house ; I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos'd of. Fen. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. Mrs Page. Good Master Fenton, come not to my child. Page. She is no match for you. Fen. Sir, will you hear me ? Page. No, good Master Fenton.— Come, Master Shallow ; — come, son Slender, in. Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton. [Exeunt Page, Slial., and Slen. Quick. Speak to Mistress Page. Fent. Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter In such a righteous fashion as I do, 219 Merry Wives of Windsor Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, I must advance the colours of my love, And not retire ; let me have your good will. Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool. Mrs Page. I mean it not ; I seek you a better husband. Quick. That 's my master, master doctor. Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth And bowl'd to death with turnips ! Mrs Page. Come, trouble not yourself. Good Master Fenton, I will not be your friend nor enemy ; My daughter will I question how she loves you, And as I find her, so am I affected. Till then farewell, sir : she must needs go in ; Her father will be angry. Fent. Farewell, gentle mistress. — Farewell, Nan. [Exeunt Mrs Page and Anne. Quick. This is my doing, now. — Nay, said I, will you cast away your child on a fool and a physician ? Look on Master Fenton. This is my doing. Fent. I thank thee ; and I pray thee, once to- night Give my sweet Nan this ring. There's for thy pains. Quick. Now heaven send thee good fortune ! [Exit Fenton.] A kind heart he hath ; a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I would my master had Mistress Anne ; or I would Master Slender had her ; or, in sooth, I would Master Fenton had her. I will do what I can for them all three ; 220 Act III Scene 5 for so I have promised, and I '11 be as good as my word; — but speciously for Master Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my two mistresses ; what a beast am I to slack it ! [Exit. Scene 5. — A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. Fal. Bardolph, I say, — Bard. Here, sir. Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack ; put a toast in 't. [Exit Bardolph.] Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out and buttered, and give them to a dog for a new-year's gift. The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drowned a blind bitch's puppies, fifteen i' the litter : and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking ; if the bottom were as deep as hell, I should down. I had been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and shallow, — a death that I abhor ; for the water swells a man, and what a thing should I have been when I had been swelled! I should have been a mountain of mummy. Re-enter Bardolph icith sack. Bard. Here's Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you. Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames water; for my belly's as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs for pills to cool the reins. Call her in. Bard. Come in, woman ! 221 Merry Wives of Windsor Enter Mistress Quickly. Quick. 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 '11 no pullet-sperm in my brewage. [Exit Bardolph.] How now ! Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mistress Ford. Fal. Mistress Ford ! I have had ford enough ; I was thrown into the ford; I have my belly full of ford. Quick. 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. Quick. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning a-birding; she desires you once more to come to her between eight and nine. I must carry her word quickly; she'll make you amends, I warrant you. 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. Quick. I will tell her. Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten, sayest thou? Quick. Eight and nine, sir. Fal. Well, be gone ; I will not miss her. Quick. Peace be with you, sir. [Exit. Fal. I marvel I hear not of Master Brook ; he sent me word to stay within. I like his money well. O, here he comes. 222 Act III Scene 5 Enter Ford. Ford. Bless you, sir ! Fal. Now, Master Brook, you come to know what hath passed between me and Ford's wife ? Ford. That, indeed, Sir John, is my business. Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you ; I was at her house the hour she appointed me. Ford. And sped you, sir ? Fal. Very ill-favouredly, Master Brook. Ford. How so, sir? Did she change her determination ? Fal. No, Master Brook ; but the peaking Cor- nuto*her husband, Master Brook, [sneaking cuckold dwelling in a continual 'larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thither provoked and instigated by his distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love. Ford. What, while you were there ? Fal. While I was there. Ford. And did he search for you, and could not find you ? Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach; and, in her invention and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket. Ford. A buck-basket ? Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy napkins ; that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril. Ford. And how long lay you there ? 223 Merry Wives of Windsor Fal. Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet-lane. They took me on their shoulders, met the jealous knave their master in the door, who asked them once or twice what they had in their basket. I quaked for fear, lest the lunatic knave would have searched it ; but fate, ordain- ing he should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well ; on went he for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook : I suffered the pangs of three several deaths; first, an intolerable fright, to be de- tected with a jealous rotten bell-wether ; next, to be compassed, like a good bilbo,* [Spanish sword in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head ; and then, to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease. Think of that, — a man of my kidney, — think of that, — that am as subject to heat as butter ; a man of continual dissolution and thaw : it was a miracle to 'scape suffocation. And in the height of this bath, when I was more than half stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe ; think of that, — hissing hot, — think of that, Master Brook. Ford. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you have suffered all this. My suit then is desperate ; you '11 undertake her no more ? Fal. Master Brook, I will be thrown into 224 Act III Scene 5 Etna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a-birding : I have received from her another embassy of meeting ; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook. Ford. 'Tis past eight already, sir. 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. ^ » mh nl «i» ^ hmun L e t, £*Nfcr [Exit. Ford. Hum ! ha ! is this a vision ? is this a dream ? do I sleep ? Master Ford, awake ! awake! Master Ford! there's a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford. This 'tis to be married ! this 'tis to have linen and buck- baskets ? Well, I will proclaim myself what I am : I will now take the lecher ; he is at my house ; he cannot scape me, 'tis impossible he should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, nor into a pepper-box : but, lest the devil that guides him should aid him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame ; if I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, — I'll be horn -mad. [Exit. 225 Merry Wives of Windsor ACT IV. Scene 1.— A Street. Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Quickly, and William. Mrs Page. Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou? Quick. 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. Mrs Page. I '11 be with her by and by ; I '11 but bring my young man here to school. Look, where his master comes; 'tis a playing-day, I see. Enter Sir Hugh Evans. How now, Sir Hugh ! no school to-day ? Evans. No ; Master Slender is let the boys leave to play. Quick. Blessing of his heart ! Mrs Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book. I pray you, ask him some questions in his accidence. Evans. Come hither, William ; hold up your head; come. Mrs Page. Come on, sirrah ; hold up your head ; answer your master, be not afraid. Evans. William, how many numbers is in nouns ? Will. Two. Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say, 1 od's nouns.' Evans. Peace your tattlings ! — What is 'fair,' William ? Act IV Scene 1 Will. Pulcher. Quick. Polecats ! there are fairer things than polecats, sure. Evans. You are a very simplicity oman ; I pray you, peace. — What is * lapis,' William? Will. A stone. Evans. And what is 'a stone,' William? Will. A pebble. Evans. No, it is ' lapis ; ' I pray you, remember in your prain. Will. Lapis. Evans. 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, nominal ivo, hie, hsec, hoc. Evans. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you, mark : genitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accusative case ? Will. Accusativo, hinc. Evans. I pray you, have your remembrance child ; accusativo, hung, hang, hog. Quick. Hang-hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. Evans. Leave your prabbles, oman. — What is the f ocative case, William ? Will. 0 ! vocativo, O ! Evans. Remember, William ; f ocative is can t . Quick. And that's a good root. Evans. Oman, forbear. Mrs Page. Peace ! Evans. What is your genitive case plural, William ? Will. Genitive case ! Evans. Ay. Will. Genitive, — horum, harum, horum. 227 Merry Wives of Windsor Quick. Vengeance of Jenny's case ! fie on her ! never name her, child, Mmkmrimtmmbmm. Evaits. For shame, oman. Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words. — He teaches him to hick and to hack, which they '11 do fast enough of themselves, and to call 'horum.' — Fie upon you ! Evans. Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no understandings for thy cases and the numbers of the genders ? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires. Mrs Page. Prithee, hold thy peace. Evans. Show me now, William, some declen- sions of your pronouns. Will. Forsooth, I have forgot. Evans. It is qui, quae, quod; if you forget your quies, your quaes, and your quods, you must be preeches. * Go your ways, [breeched, flogged and play ; go. Mrs Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was. Evans. He is a good sprag* memory, [ready Farewell, Mistress Page. Mrs Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. [Exit Sir Hugh.] Get you home, boy. — Come, we stay too long. [Exeunt. Scene 2.— A Room in Ford's House. Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford. Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth ; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, com- plement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now ? Act IV Scene 2 Mrs Ford, He 's a-birding, sweet Sir John, Mrs Page, [ Within] What, ho, gossip Ford ! what, ho ! Mrs Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John. [Exit Falstaff. Enter Mistress Page. Mrs Page, How now, sweetheart ! who 's at home besides yourself ? Mrs Ford, Why, none but mine own people. Mrs Page, Indeed ! Mrs Ford, No, certainly. — [Aside to her] Speak louder. Mrs Page, Truly, I am so glad you have no- body here. Mrs Ford. Why? Mrs Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old limes * again ; he so takes On [tantrums yonder with my husband, so rails against all married mankind, so curses all Eve's daughters of what complexion soever, and so buffets him- self on the forehead, crying, 'Peer out, pun- out ! ' that any madness I ever yet beheld seenn $d but tameness, civility, and patience, to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight is not here. Mrs Ford. Why, does he talk' of him ? Mrs Page. Of none but him, and swears he was carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket ; protests to my husband he is now here, and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspicion. But I am glad the knight is not here ; now he shall see his own foolery. Mrs Ford. How near is he, Mistress Page ? 229 Merry Wives of Windsor Mrs Page. Hard by, at street end ; he will be here anon. Mrs Ford. I am undone ! The knight is here. Mrs Page. Why then you are utterly shamed, and he 's but a dead man. What a woman are you ! — Away with him, away with him ! better shame than murther. Mrs Ford. Which way should he go ? how should I bestow him ? Shall I put him into the basket again ? Re-enter Falstaff. Fal. No, I '11 come no more i' the basket. May I not go out ere he come ? Mrs Page. Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here ? Fal. What shall I do ? — I '11 creep up into the chimney. Mrs Ford. There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole. Fal. Where is it ? Mrs 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 '11 go out then. Mrs Page. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised — Mrs Ford. How might we disguise him ? Mrs 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. 230 Act IV Scene 2 Fat. Good hearts, devise something ; any extremity rather than a mischief. Mrs Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above. Mrs 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. Mrs Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John ; Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head. Mrs Page. Quick, quick ! we '11 come dress you straight ; put on the gown the while. [Eocit Falstaff. Mrs Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape : he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford ; he swears she 's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her. Mrs Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel after- wards ! Mrs Ford. But is my husband coming ? Mrs Page. Ay, in good sadness, is he ; and talks of the basket too ; howsoever he hath had intelligence. Mrs Ford. We '11 try that ; for I '11 appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time. Mrs Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let 's go dress him like the witch of Brentford. Mrs Ford. I '11 first direct my men what they shall do with the basket. Go up ; I '11 bring linen for him straight. [Exit. Mrs Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet ! we cannot misuse him enough. We '11 leave a proof, by that which we will do, Wives may be merry, and yet honest too. 231 Merry Wives of Windsor We do not act that often jest and laugh ; 'Tis old, but true, ' still swine eat all the draff.' [Exit Re-enter Mistress Ford with two Servants. Mrs Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders : your master is hard at door ; if he bid you set it down, obey him. Quickly, dispatch. [Exit. 1st Serv. Come, come, take it up. 2nd Serv. Pray heaven it be not full of knight again. 1st Serv. I hope not ; I had as lief bear so much lead. Enter Ford, Page, Shallow, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans. Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket, villains ! Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket ! O you panderly rascals! there's a knot, a ging,*a pack, a [gang conspiracy against me ; now shall the devil be shamed. — What, wife, I say! Come, come forth ! Behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching ! Page. Why, this passes ! Master Ford, you are not to go loose any longer ; you must be pinioned. Evans. Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad dog ! Shal. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed. Ford. So say I too, sir. Re-enter Mistress Ford. Come hither, Mistress Ford ; Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous 232 Act IV Scene 2 creature, that hath the jealous fool to her hus- band ! — I suspect without cause, mistress, do I ? Mrs Ford. Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty. Ford. Well said, brazen-face! hold it out. — Come forth, sirrah ! [Pulling clothes out of the basket. Page. This passes ! Mrs Ford. Are you not ashamed ? let the clothes alone. Ford. I shall find you anon. Evans. 'Tis unreasonable ! Will you take up your wife's clothes ? Come away. Ford. Empty the basket, I say ! Mrs 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. Mrs Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death. Page. Here 's no man. Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford ; this wrongs you. Evans. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart ; this is jealousies. Ford. Well, he 's not here I seek for. Page. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain. Ford. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity ; let me forever be your table-sport ; let them say of me, 'As jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's leman. 1 233 Merry Wives of Windsor Satisfy me once more ; once more search with me. Mrs Ford. What, ho, Mistress Page ! come you and the old woman down ; my husband will come into the chamber. Ford. Old woman ! what old woman 's that ? Mrs Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford. Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean ! Have I not forbid her my house ? She comes of errands, does she? We are simple men ; we do not know what 's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery* as this is beyond our [trickery element ; we know nothing. — Come down, you witch, you hag, you ; come down, I say ! Mrs Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband ! — Good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. Re-enter Falstaff in woman's clothes, and Mistress Page. Mrs Page. Come, Mother Prat ; come, give me your hand. Ford. I'll prat her. [Beating him] Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, you polecat, you ronyon ! out, out ! I '11 conjure you, I '11 fortune-tell you. [Exit Falstaff. Mrs Page. Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the poor woman. Mrs Ford. Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you. Ford, Hang her, witch ! Evans. By yea and no, I think the oman is a witch indeed ; I like not when a oman has a great peard ; I spy a great peard under her muffler. 234 Act IV Scene 2 Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech you, follow ; see but the issue of my jealousy. If I cry out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open again. Page. Let 's obey his humour a little further. Come, gentlemen. [Exeunt Ford, Page, Shal., Cains, and Evans. Mrs Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully. Mrs Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not ; he beat him most unpitifully, methought. Mrs Page. I '11 have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the altar ; it hath done meritorious service. Mrs Ford. What think you? may we, with the warrant of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge ? Mrs 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. Mrs Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him ? Mrs 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 un- virtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the ministers. Mrs Ford. I '11 warrant they '11 have him publicly shamed ; and methinks there would be no period to the jest, should he not be publicly shamed. Mrs Page. Come, to the forge with it then ; shape it : I would not have things cool. [Exeunt. 235 Merry Wives of Windsor Scene 3. — A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Host and BardolpJi. Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your horses ; the duke himself will be to- morrow at court, and they are going to meet him. Host. What duke should that be comes so secretly ? I hear not of him in the court. Let me speak with the gentlemen ; they speak English ? Bard. Ary, sir ; I '11 call them to you. Host. They shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay ; I '11 sauce them. They have had my house a week at command ; I have turned away my other guests : they must come off ; I '11 sauce them. Come. [Exeunt. Scene 4. — A Room in Ford's House. Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Sir Hugh Evans. Evans. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a oman as ever I did look upon. Page. And did he send you both these letters at an instant ? Mrs Page. Within a quarter of an hour. Ford. Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt ; I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness ; now doth thy honour stand, In him that was of late an heretic, As firm as faith. Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well ; no more : Be not as extreme in submission As in offence. But let our plot go forward ; let our wives Yet once again, to make us public sport, 236 Act IV Scene 4 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. Evans. You say he has been thrown in the rivers and has been grievously peaten as an old oman ; methinks there should be terrors in him that he should not come ; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have no desires. Page. So think I too. Mrs Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither. Mrs Page. There is an old tale goes that Heme the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner. You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know The superstitious idle-headed eld* [of olden time Receiv'd and did deliver to our age This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth. Page. Why, yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak ; But what of this ? Mrs Ford. Marry, this is our device ; 237 Merry Wives of Windsor That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, Disguis'd like Heme, with huge horns on his head. Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he '11 come ; And in this shape when you have brought him thither, What shall be done with him? what is your plot? Mrs Page. That likewise have we thought upon, and thus : Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, And three or four more of their growth, we '11 dress Like urchins, ouphes,* and fairies, green [elves and white, With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, And rattles in their hands. Upon a sudden, As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met, Let them from forth a 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. Mrs Ford. And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound And burn him with their tapers. Mrs Page. The truth being known, We '11 all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, And mock him home to Windsor. Ford. The children must Be practis'd well to this, or they '11 ne'er do 't. Evans. I will teach the children their be- haviours ; and I will be like a jack-a-napes also, to burn the knight with my taber. 238 Act IV Scene 5 Ford, That will be excellent. I '11 go and buy them vizards. Mrs Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies, Finely attired in a robe of white. Page. That silk will I go buy. [Aside] And in that tire Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away And marry her at Eton. — Go send to Falstaff straight. Ford. Nay, I '11 to him again in name of Brook. He '11 tell me all his purpose ; sure, he '11 come. Mrs Page. Fear not you that. Go get us properties And tricking for our fairies. Evans. Let us about it ; it is admirable pleasures and fery honest knaveries. [Exeunt Page, Ford, and Evans. Mrs Page. Go, Mistress Ford, Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind. [Exit Mrs Ford. I '11 to the doctor ; he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot ; And he my husband best of all affects. The doctor is well money'd, and his friends Potent at court ; he, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. [Exit, Scene 5. — A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Host and Simple. Host. What wouldst thou have, boor? what, thick -skin ? speak, breathe, discuss ; brief, short, quick, snap. 239 Merry Wives of Windsor Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff from Master Slender. Host. There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed; 'tis painted about with the story of the Prodigal, fresh and new. Go knock and call ; he '11 speak like an Anthropophaginian* unto thee : [cannibal knock, I say. Sim. 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 '11 call.— Bully knight ! bully Sir John ! speak from thy lungs military ; art thou there ? it is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls. Fal. [Above] How now, mine host ! Host. Here s a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the coming down of thy fat woman. Let her de- scend, bully, let her descend ; my chambers are honourable : fie ! privacy ? fie ! Enter Falstaff. Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat woman even now with me ; but she 's gone. Sim. Pray you, sir, was 't not the wise woman of Brentford ? Fal. Ay, marry, was is, mussel-shell ; what would you with her ? Sim. My master, sir, Master Slender, sent to her, seeing her go thorough the streets, to know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain, had the chain or no. Fal. I spake with the old woman about it. Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir ? Fal. Marry, she says that the very same man 240 Act IV Scene 5 that beguiled Master Slender of his chain cozened him of it. Sim. 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. Ay, come ; quick. Sim. 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. Ay, sir ; like who more bold ? Sim. I thank your worship. I shall make my master glad with these tidings. [E.vit. Host. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, Sir John. Was there a wise woman with theeP Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host : one that hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before in my life; and I paid nothing for it, neither, but was paid for my learning. Enter Bardolph. Bard. Out, alas, sir ! cozenage, mere cozenage! Host. Where be my hones? speak well of them, varletto. Bard. Run away with the cozeners; for so soon as I came beyond Eton, they threw me oft" from behind one of them, in a slough of mire, and set spurs and away, like three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses. I Q 241 Merry Wives of Windsor Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, villain. Do not say they be fled ; Germans are honest men. Enter Sir Hugh Evans. Evans. Where is mine host ? Host. What is the matter, sir ? Evans. Have a care of your entertainments : there is a friend of mine come to town, tells me there is three cozen-germans that has cozened all the hosts of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of horses and money. I tell you for good will, look you ; you are wise and full of gibes and vlouting-stogs,* and 'tis [laughing stocks not convenient you should be cozened. Fare you well. [Exit Enter Doctor Cains. Caius. Vere is mine host de Jarteer ? Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity and doubtful dilemma. Caius. I cannot tell vat is dat ; but it is tell-a me dat you make grand preparation for a duke de Jamany: by my trot, dere is no duke dat the court is know to come. I tell 3^ou for good vill; adieu. [Exit. Host. Hue and cry, villain, go! — Assist me, knight. I am undone ! — Fly, run, hue and cry, villain ! I am undone ! [Exeunt Host and Bard. Fal. I would all the world might be cozened ; for I have been cozened and beaten too. If it should come to the ear of the court, how I have been transformed and how my transformation hath been washed and cudgelled, they would melt me out of my fat drop by drop and liquor fishermen's boots with me. I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear. I never pros- 242 Act IV Scene 6 pered since I forswore myself at primero.* Well, if my wind were but long ta game at cards enough to say my prayers, I would repent. Enter Mistress Quickly. Now, whence come you ? Quick. 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 villanous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to bear. Quick. 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 tellest thou" me of black and blue ? I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow ; and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brentford : but that my admir- able dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman, delivered me, the knave constable had set me i' the stocks, i' the common stocks, for a witch. Quick. 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. Scene 6. — Another Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Fenton and Host. Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me ; my mind is heavy : I will give over all. 243 Merry Wives of Windsor Fent. Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose, And, as I am a gentleman, I '11 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. Fent. From time to time I have acquainted you With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page, Who mutually hath answer'd my affection, So far forth as herself might be her chooser, Even to my wish. I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at ; The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, That neither singly can be manifested, Without the show of both ; — fat Falstaff Hath a great scene : the image of the jest I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host. To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen ; The purpose why, is here : in which disguise, While other jests are something rank on foot, Her father hath commanded her to slip Away with Slender, and with him at Eton Immediately to marry ; she hath consented. Now, sir, Her mother, ever strong against that match And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed That he shall likewise shuffle her away, While other sports are tasking of their minds, And at the deanery, where a priest attends, Straight marry her ; to this her mother's plot She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath Made promise to the doctor. Now, thus it rests : Her father means she shall be all in white, And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 244 Act V Scene 1 To take her by the hand and bid her go, She shall go with him ; her mother hath intended, The better to denote her to the doctor, — For they must all be mask'd and vizarded, — That quaint in green she shall be loose enrob'd, With ribands pendent, flaring 'bout her head ; And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, The maid hath given consent to go with him. Host. Which means she to deceive, father or mother ? Fent. Both, my good host, to go along with me ; And here it rests, — that you '11 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 . Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ; Besides, I '11 make a present recompense. [Eooeu ACT V. Scene L — A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff and Mistress Quickly. Fal. Prithee, no more prattling; go. I'll hold. This is the third time ; I hope good luc k lies in odd numbers. — Away! go. — They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death. — Away ! Quick. I '11 provide you a chain, and I '11 do what I can to get you a pair of horns. Fal. Away, I say ; time wears : hold up your head, and mince. [Exit Mrs Quickly. 245 Merry Wives of Windsor Enter Ford. How now, Master Brook ! Master Brook, the matter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the Park about midnight, at Heme's oak, 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 Brook, as you see, like a poor old man ; but I came from her, Master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell you : he beat me grievously in the shape of a woman ; for in the shape of man, Master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam ; because I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste ; go along with me : I '11 tell you all, Master Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and whipped top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten till lately. Follow me ; I '11 tell you strange things of this knave Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. — Follow. Strange things in hand, Master Brook ! Follow. [Exeunt. Scene 2.— Windsor Park. Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. Page. Come, come; we'll couch i' the castle- ditch till we see the light of our fairies. — Remember, son Slender, my daughter. Slen. Ay, forsooth ; I have spoke with her and we have a nay- word how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry 6 mum ; ' she cries 'budget,' and by that we know one another. 246 Act V Scene 3 Shal. That 's good too ; but what needs either your 'mum' or her 'budget?' the white will decipher her well enough. It hath struck ten o'clock. Page. The night is dark ; light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport ! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away; follow me. [Exeunt. Scene 3. — A Street leading to the Park. Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Doctor Caius. Mrs Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in green ; when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and dis- patch it quickly. Go before into the Park : we two must go together. Caius. I know vat I have to do. Adieu. Mrs Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit Ca,VU8.\ My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter : but 'tis no matter ; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break. Mrs Ford. Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil Hugh P Mrs Page. They are all couched in a pit hard by Heme's oak, with obscured lights ; which, at the very instant of Falstalf's and our meeting, they will at once display to the night. Mrs Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him. Mrs Page. If he be not amazed, he will be mocked ; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked. 247 Merry Wives of Windsor Mrs Ford. We '11 betray him finely. Mrs Page. Against such lewdsters and their lechery Those that betray them do no treachery. Mrs Ford. The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak ! [Exeunt. Scene 4. — Windsor Park. Enter Sir Hugh Evans disguised, with others as Fairies. Evans. Trib, trib, fairies ; come ; and re- member your parts. Be pold, I pray you ; follow me into the pit; and when I give the watch-ords, do as I pid you. Come, come ; trib, trib. [Exeunt. Scene 5.— Another Part of the Park. Enter Falstaff disguised as Heme. Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve ; the minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me ! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa ; love set on thy horns. O powerful love ! that, in some respects, makes a beast a man, in some other a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love ! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose ! A fault done first in the form of a beast. O Jove, a beastly fault ! And then another fault in the semblance of a fowl ; think on 't, Jove ; a foul fault ! When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do ? For me, I am here a Windsor stag ; and the fattest, I think, i' the forest. Send me a cool ruttime, Jove ! — Who comes here ? my doe ? 248 Act V Scene 5 Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, Mrs Ford. Sir John ! art thou there, my deer ? my male deer ? Fal. My doe with the black scut* ! Let [tail the sky rain potatoes, let it thunder to the tune of 'Green Sleeves,' hail kissing-comfits and snow eringoes* ; let there come a [sea holly tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. Mrs Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. Fal. Divide me like a bribed* buck, each [stolen 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 wood- man, 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 ! Fal. I think the devil will not have me dam net 1 , lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire ; he would never else cross me thus. Enter Sir Hugh Evans, as a Satyr; another person, as Hobgoblin ; Anne Page, an the Fa iry Queen, attended by her Brothei* and others As she that he hath stain 'd ? Isab. Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul. Ang. I talk not of your soul ; our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. Isab. How say you ? Ang. Nay, I '11 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 '11 take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. Ang. Pleas'd 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 '11 make it my morn prayer 293 Measure for Measure 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 craftily, and that 's not good. Isab. Let me 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 masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me ; To be received plain, I '11 speak more gross. Your brother is to die. 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 loss of question, — that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-holding law, and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this suppos'd, 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, The impression of keen whips I 'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing I 've been sick for, ere I 'd yield My body up to shame. 294 Act II Scene 4 Ang. Then must your brother die. Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way. Better it were a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so ? Isab. Ignomy in ransom and free pardon Are of two houses ; lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice. Isab. 0, pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean. I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Isab. Else let my brother die, If not a fedary* but only he [confederate Owe and succeed thy weakness. Ang. Nay, women are frail too, Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women ! Help Heaven ! men their creat ion 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 295 Measure for Measure Than faults may shake our frames, — let me be bold ; I do arrest your words. Be that you are, That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none ; If you be one, as you are well express'd By all external warrants, show it now, By putting on the destin'd livery. Isab. I have no tongue but one ; gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. Afig. Plainly conceive, I love you. Isab. My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me that he shall die for it. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know your virtue hath a license 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. Isab. Ha ! little honour to be much believ'd, Andmost pernicious purpose ! Seeming, seeming I will proclaim thee, Angelo ; look for 't ! Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an outstretch'd throat I '11 tell the world aloud What man thou art. Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel ? My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' the state, Will so your accusation overweigh, That you shall stifle in your own report And smell of calumny. I have begun, And now I give my sensual race the rein : Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; Lay by all nicety and prolixious* blushes, [delaying That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother 296 Act III Scene 1 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 '11 prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit. Isab. To whom should I complain ? Did I tell this, Who would believe me ? O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, Either of condemnation or approof ; Bidding the law make court'sy to their will, Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, To follow as it draws ! I '11 to my brother. Though he hath fallen by promptureof 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 abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die ; More than our brother is our chastity. I '11 tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. ACT III. Scene 1. — A Room in the Prison. Enter Duke disguised as befoi*e, Claudio, ami Provost. Duke. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo ? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine 297 Measure for Measure But only hope. I 've hope to live, and am prepar'd 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 skyey influences, That dost this habitation where thou keep'st Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art death's fool ; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble ; For all the accommodations that thou bear'st Are nurs'd 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 provok'st ; yet grossly f ear'st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself ; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not ; For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain ; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon. If thou art rich, thou 'rt poor ; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Friend hast thounone ; For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, 298 Act III Scene 1 For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both ; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld ; and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What 's yet in this That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life Lie hid moe * thousand deaths ; vet death [more we fear, That makes these odds all even. Claud. I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die, And, seeking death, find life ; let it come on. Isab. [ Within] What, ho ! Peace here ; grace and good company ! Prov. Who 's there ? come in ; the wish de- serves a welcome. Duke. Dear sir, ere long I '11 visit you again. Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. Enter Isabella. Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. Prov. And very welcome. — Look, signior, here 's your sister. Duke. Provost, a word with you. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. Claud. Now, sister, what 's the comfort ? Isab. Why As all comforts are, most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, 299 Measure for Measure Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger.* [legate Therefore your best appointment* make [preparation with speed ; To-morrow you set on. Claud. Is there no remedy ? Isab. None, but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. Claud. But is there any ? Isab. Yes, brother, you may live ; There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you '11 implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death. Claud. Perpetual durance ? Isab. Ay, just ; perpetual durance, a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determin'd scope. Claud. But in what nature ? Isab. In such a one as, you consenting to 't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. Claud. Let me know the point. Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st 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. Claud. 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. 300 Act III Scene 1 Isab, There spake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die ; Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward - sainted deputy,— Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth em- mew* [restrain As falcon doth the fowl, — is yet a devil ; His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. Claud. The priestly Angelo ! Isab. 0, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In priestly guards ! Dost thou think, Claudio ? If I would yield him my virginity, Thou mightst be freed. Claud. O heavens ! it cannot be. Isab. 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. Claud. Thou shalt not do 't. Isab. O, were it but my life, I 'd throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to- morrow. Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it ? Sure, it is no sin ; Or of the deadly seven it is the least. Isab. Which is the least ? 301 Measure for Measure Claud, If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fin'd ? * O Isabel ! [lastingly punished Isdb. What says my brother ? Claud, Death is a fearful thing. Isab, And shamed life a hateful. Claud, Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death. Isab, Alas, alas ! Claud, Sweet sister, let me live. What sin you do to save a brother's life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue. Isab, 0 you beast ! O faithless coward ! 0 dishonest wretch ! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice ? Is 't not a kind of incest to take life From thine own sister's shame ? What should I think ? Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair ! For such a warped slip of wilderness Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance ! 302 Act III Scene 1 Die, perish ! Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed. I '11 pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee. Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. Isab. O, fie, fie, fie ! Thy sin 's not accidental, but a trade. Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd ; Tis best that thou diest quickly. Claud. O hear me, Isabella ! Re-enter Duke. Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. Isab. What is your will ? Duke. 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. Isab. I have no superfluous leisure : my stay must be stolen out of other affairs ; but I will attend you awhile. [ Walks apart. Duke. Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angel o had never the purpose to corrupt her : only he hath made an assay * of her virtue to prac- [a trial tice his judgment with the disposition of natures. She, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true ; therefore prepare your- self to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible : to-morrow you must die ; go to your knees and make ready. Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it. 303 Measure for Measure Duke. Hold you there ; farewell. [Exit Claudio.] Provost, a word with you ! Re-enter Provost. Prov. What 's your will, father ? Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid; my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. Prov. In good time. [Exit Provost. Isabella comes forward. Duke. 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 con- veyed 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 [answer had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. Duke. That shall not be much amiss ; yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation ; he made trial of you only. There- fore fasten your ear on my advisings ; to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit, redeem your brother from the 304 Act III Scene 1 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 foul 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 ? Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. Duke. She should this Angelo have married ; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed; between which time of the con- tract 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 gentle- woman : there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural ; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry ; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. Isab. Can this be so ? did Angelo so leave her? Duke. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort ; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour : in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake, and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world ! What corrup- i u 305 Measure for Measure tion in this life, that it will let this man live ! But how out of this can she avail ? Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal ; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. Isab. Show me how, good father. Duke. This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection ; his un- just unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo ; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience ; agree with his demands to the point ; only refer yourself to this advantage, first, that your stay with him may not be long, that the time may have all shadow and silence in it, and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course — and now follows all — we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up* your appointment, go in your [fill place ; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recom- pense ; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy foiled. 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 contentalready, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. Duke. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo ; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's ; 306 Act III Scene 2 there, at the moated grange, resides this de- jected Mariana. At that place call upon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. Isab, I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally. Scene 2.— The Street before the Prison. Enter, on one side, Duke disguised as before ; on the other, Elboio, and Officers with Pompey. 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 and white bastard. * [a sweet wine Duke. O heavens ! what stuff is here ? Pom. 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm ; and furred with fox and lamb skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. Elb. Come your way, sir. — Bless you, good father friar. Duke. 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 picklock, 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 there abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, 307 Measure for Measure So stinkingly depending ? Go mend, go mend. Pom. 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 Ere 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, Free from our faults, as from faults seeming free ! Elb. His neckwill come to your waist, — a cord, sir. Pom. I spy comfort ; I cry bail. Here 's a gentleman and a friend of mine. Enter Lucio. Initio. 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 put- ting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutched? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune, matter and method ? Is 't not drowned i' the last rain, ha ? What sayest thou Trot ? Is the world as it was, man ? Which is the way ? Is it sad, and few words ? or how? The trick of it? Duke. Still thus, and thus ; still worse ! Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mis- tress ? Procures she still, ha ? 308 Act III Scene 2 Pom. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. Lucio. Why, 'tis good ; it is the right of it ; it must be so : ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd : an unshunned consequence ; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey ? Pom. Yes, faith, sir. Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Fare- well ; go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey ? or how ? Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. Well, then, imprison him. If imprison- ment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right ; bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too — bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Com- mend me to the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey ; you will keep the house. Pom. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage ; if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. — Bless you, friar. Duke. And you. Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? Elb. Come your ways, sir ; come. Pom. You will not bail me, then, sir ? Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now. — What news abroad, friar ? what news ? Elb. Come your ways, sir ; come. Lucio. Go to kennel, Pompey, go. {Exeunt Elboiv, Pompey and Officers.] What news, friar, of the duke ? Duke. I know none. Can you tell me of any ? 309 Measure for Measure Lucio. 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. Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence ; he puts transgression to 't. Duke. He does well in 't. Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him ; something too crabbed that way, friar. Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied; but it is im- possible 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 ? I/ucio. Some report a sea-maid spawned him ; some, that he was begot between two stock- fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ire ; that I know to be true : and he is a motion generative ; that 's infallible. Duke. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man ! Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport ; 310 Act III Scene 2 he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. Duke. I never heard the absent duke much de- tected for women ; he was not inclined that way. Lucio. 0, sir, you are deceived. Duke. "Tis not possible. I/ucio. 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 [collecting-plate in him. He would be drunk too ; that let me inform you. Duke. You do him wrong, surely. Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the duke ; and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. Duke. What, I prithee, might be the cause? Lucio. No, pardon ; 'tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips : but this I can let you understand, the greater file* of the [number subject held the duke to be wise. Duke. Wise ! why, no question but he was. Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweigh- ing 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 [conducted warranted need give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings- forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully; or if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in your malice. Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know. 3" Measure for Measure 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 ? Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the duke. Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. Lucio. I fear you not. Duke. 0, you hope the duke will return no more, or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I can do you little harm ; you '11 forswear this again. Lucio. I '11 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 ? Lucio. Why ? For filling a bottle with a tun- dish.* I would the duke we talk of were [funnel returned again : this ungenitured agent will un- people the province with continency ; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered ; he would never bring them to light : would he were returned ! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Fare- well, good friar ; I prithee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic; say that I said so. Farewell. [Exit. Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality 3*2 Act III Scene 2 Can censure scape ; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ? — But who comes here ? Enter Escalus, Provost, and Officers with Mistress Overdone. Escal. Go ; away with her to prison ! Mrs Ov. Good my lord, be good to me ; your honour is accounted a merciful man, good my lord. Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind ! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. Prov. A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your honour. Mrs Ov. My lord, this is one Lucio's informa- tion against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the duke's time ; he pro- mised 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 ! Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license ; let him be called before us. — Away with her to prison ! — Go to ; no more words. [Exeunt Officers with Mistress Overdone.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die to-morrow. Let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. Escal. Good even, good father. Duke. Bliss and goodness on you ! 313 Measure for Measure Escal. 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 See In special business from his holiness. Escal. What news abroad f the world ? Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure, but security enough to make fellowships accurst. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke ? Escal. One that, above all other strifes, con- tended especially to know himself. Duke. What pleasure was he given to ? Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which professed to make him rejoice; a gentleman of all temper- ance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous, and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice ; yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life, which I by my good leisure have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. 3H Act III Scene 2 Escal. You have paid the heavens your func- tion, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty ; but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed justice. Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well ; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. Duke. Peace be with you ! [Exeunt Escalus and Provost. He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe ; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go ; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking ! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice and let his grow ! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side ! How may likeness wade in crimes, Making practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most ponderous and substantial things ! Craft against vice I must apply : With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despis'd ; So disguise shall, by the disguis'd, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. [Exit. 3*5 Measure for Measure ACT IV. Scene 1.— The Moated Grange at St Luke's. Enter Mariana and a Boy. Boy sings. Take, 0, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn ; But my kisses bring again, bring again. — Seals of love, but seaVd in vain, seaVd in vain. Mari. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away ; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. — [Exit Boy. Enter Duke disguised as before. I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musical. Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe. Duke. 'Tis good ; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. I pray you, tell me, hath anybody inquired for me here to-day? much upon this time have I promised here to meet. Mari. You have not been inquired after; I have sat here all day. Duke. I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbear- ance a little ; may be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself. Mari. I am always bound to you. [Exit. 316 Act IV Scene 1 Enter Isabella. Duke, Very well met, and well come. What is the news from this good deputy ? Isab. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ; And to that vineyard is a planched* gate, [planked That makes his opening with this bigger key ; This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads ; There have I made my promise Upon the heavy middle of the night To call upon him. # Duke. But shall you on your knowledge find this way ? Isab, I have ta'en a due and wary note upon 't ; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o'er. Duke, Are there no other tokens Between you 'greed concerning her observance ? Isab. No, none, but only a repair i' the dark, And that I have possess'd* him my most [informed stay Can be but brief ; for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along, That stays upon me, whose persuasion is I come about my brother. Duke, 'Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. — What, ho ! within ! come forth ! Re-enter Mariana. I pray you, be acquainted with this maid ; She comes to do you good. Isab, I do desire the like. 3*7 Measure for Measure Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? Marl. 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. Mari. Will 't please you walk aside ? [Exeunt Mariana and Isabella. Duke. O place and greatness ! millions of false eyes # Are stuck upon thee ; volumes of report Run with these false and most contrarious quests Upon thy doings ; thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dreams And rack* thee in their fancies, [misrepresent Re-enter Mariana and Isabella. Welcome, how agreed ? Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. Duke. It is not my consent, But my entreaty too. Isab. Little have you to say When you depart from him, but, soft and low, * Remember now my brother.' Mari. Fear me not. Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract ; To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish* the deceit. Come, let us go ; [justify Our corn 's to reap, for yet our tilth 's to sow. [Exeunt. 318 Act IV Scene 2 Scene 2. — A Room in the Prison. Enter Provost and Pompey. Prov. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head ? Pom. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can ; but if he be a married man, he 's his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head. Prov. 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 [feturs time of imprisonment and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a notorious bawd. Pom. 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. Prov. What, ho ! Abhorson ! Where 's Ab- horson, there? Enter A bhorso n . Abhor. Do you call, sir? Prov. 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. Abhor. A bawd, sir? fie upon him; he will discredit our mystery. Prov. Go to, sir ; you weigh equally ; a feather will turn the scale. [Exit. 319 Measure for Measure Pom. 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 ? Abhor. Ay, sir ; a mystery. Pom. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery ; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery ; but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. Pom. Proof? Abhor. Every true man's apparelfits yourthief . Pom. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough ; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough : so every true man's apparel fits your thief. Re-enter Provost. Prov. Are you agreed ? Pom. Sir, I will serve him, for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd ; he doth of tener ask forgiveness. Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock. Abhor. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade ; follow. Pom. I do desire to learn, sir : and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare * ; for truly sir, for [ready your kindness I owe you a good turn. Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio. [Exeunt Pompey and Abhorson. The one has my pity ; not a jot the other, Being a murtherer, though he were my brother. 320 Act IV Scene 2 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 Bar- nardine ? Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones ; He will not wake. Prov. Who can do good on him ? Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within.] But, hark, what noise ? Heaven give your spirits comfort! [EpcU Claudio.] By and by. I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio. Enter Duke disguised as before. Welcome, father. Duke. The best and wholesom'st spirits of the night Envelop you, good provost! Who call'd here of late? Prov. None, since the curfew rung. Duke. Not Isabel ? Prov. No. Duke. They will, then, ere 't be long. Prov. What comfort is for Claudio ? Duke. There 's some in hope. Prov. It is a bitter deputy. Duke. Not so, not so ; his life is parallel'd Even with the stroke* and line of his great [limit justice. He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his power Measure for Measure To qualify in others. Were he meal'd* [mixed up with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous ; But this being so, he 's just. [Knocking within. ] Now are they come. [Exit Provost. This is a gentle provost ; seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. [Knocking within. How now ! what noise ? That spirit 's possess'd with haste That wounds the unsisting* postern with [restless these strokes. Re-enter Provost. Prov. There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in ; he is call'd up. Duke. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die to-morrow ? Prov. None, sir, none. Duke. As near the dawning, provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning. Prov. Happily You something know, yet I believe there comes No countermand ; no such example have we. Besides, upon the very siege* of justice [seat Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Prof ess'd the contrary. Enter a Messenger. This is his lordship's man. Duke. And here comes Claudio's pardon. Mes. [Giving a paper.] My lord hath sent you this note ; and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow ; for, as I take it, it is almost day. Act IV Scene 2 Prov. I shall obey him. [Exit Messenger. Duke. [ Aside\ This is his pardon, purchas'd 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 fault's love is the offender friended. — Now, sir, what news ? Prov. I told you. Lord Angelo, belike think- ing me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on ; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before. Duke. Pray you, let 's hear. Prov. [Reads] 1 Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claud to be executed by four of the clock, and in the afternoon Barnard inc. For my better satisfaction, let me have Claud id's head sent me by five. Let this be duly per- formed, with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you ivill answer it at your peril '.' What say you to this, sir ? Duke. What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the afternoon ? Prov. A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and 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. Prov. His friends still wrought reprieves for him ; and, indeed, his fact,* till now in the [deed government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. Duke. It is now apparent ? 323 Measure for Measure Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison ? how seems he to be touched ? Prov. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep ; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come ; insensible of mortality, and des- perately mortal. Duke. He wants advice. Prov. 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 days' respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. Prov. Pray, sir, in what ? Duke. In the delaying death. Prov. 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. 324 Act IV Scene 2 Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo. Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. Duke. O, death 's a great disguiser, and you may add to it. Shave the head and tie the beard, and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death ; you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life. Prov. Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath. Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy ? Prov. To him, and to his substitutes. Duke. You will think you have made no offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing ? Prov. 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. Prov. I know them both. Duke. The contents of this is the return of the duke ; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure, where you shall find within these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not, for he this very day receives letters of strange tenour; perchance of the 32s Measure for Measure duke's death ; perchance entering into some monastery ; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be ; all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head ; I will give him a present shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed, but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away ; it is almost clear dawn. [Exeunt, Scene 3. — Another Room in the Same. Enter Pompey, Pom. I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession ; one would think it were Mistress Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here's young Master Rash ; he 's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, 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 Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-coloured satin, which now peaches* him a beggar. Then have We [impeaches here young Dizy, and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copper-spur, and Master Starve- lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forthright the tilter, and brave Master Shootie the great traveller, and wild Half- can that stabbed Pots, and, I think, forty more, all great doers in our trade, and are now * for the Lord's sake. ' 326 Act IV Scene 3 Enter Abhorson. Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. Pom. Master Barnardine I you must rise and be hanged, Master Barnardine ! Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine ! Bar. [Within] A pox o' your throats! who makes that noise there ? What are you ? Pom. Your friends, sir ; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. Bar. [ Within] Away, you rogue, away ! I am sleepy. Abhor. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. Pom. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out. Pom. He is coming, sir, he is coining; I hear his straw rustle. Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah ? Pom. Very ready, sir. Enter Barnardine. Bar. How now, Abhorson ? what 's the news with you ? Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers ; for, look you, the warrant 's come. Bar. You rogue, I have been drinking all night ; I am not fitted for 't. Pom. 0, the better, sir ; for he that drinks all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day. Abhor. Look you, sir; herecomes your ghostly father : do we jest now, think you ? Enter Duke disguised as before. Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing 3-7 Measure for Measure how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise 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. O, 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. Duke. Unfit to live or die. 0 gravel heart ! After him, fellows ; bring him to the block. [Exeunt Abhor son and Pompey. He-enter Provost. Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner ? Duke. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death ; And to transport him in the mind he is Were damnable. Prov. Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, A man of Claudio's years ; his beard and head Just of his colour. What if we do omit This reprobate till he were well inclin'd, And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio ? Duke. O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides ! Dispatch it presently ; the hour draws on Prefixed by Angelo : see this be done, 328 Act IV Scene 3 And sent according to command, whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. Prov. This shall be done, goodfather, 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 the under generation, you shall find Your safety manifested. Prov. I am your free dependant. Duke. Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. [Exit Provost. Now will I write letters to Angelo, — The provost, he shall bearthem, — whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home, And that, by great injunctions, I am bound To enter publicly. Him I '11 desire To meet me at the consecrated fount A league below the city ; and from thence, By cold gradation and well-balanc'd form, We shall proceed with Angelo. Re-enter Provost. Prov. Here is the head ; I '11 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. Prov. I '11 make all speed. [Exit. Isab. [ Within] Peace, ho, be here ! Duke. The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know If yet her brother's pardon be come hither ; 329 Measure for Measure But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of despair, When it is least expected. Enter Isabella. Isab. Ho, by your leave ! Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. Isab. The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon ? Duke. He hath releas'd him, Isabel, from the world ; His head is off and sent to Angelo. Isab. Nay, but it is not so. Duke. It is no other; show your wisdom, daughter, In your close patience. Isab. O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! Duke. You shall not be admitted to his sight. Isab. Unhappy Claudio ! wretched Isabel ! Injurious world ! most damned Angelo ! Duke. This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot. Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find By every syllable a faithful verity : The duke comes home to-morrow ; nay, dry your eyes ; One of our coven t,* and his confessor, [convent Gives me this instance. Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go ; And you shall have your bosom* on this wretch, 33° [desire Act IV Scene 3 Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour. Isab. I am directed by you. Duke. 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. Hercauseand yours I '11 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 r I am combined by a sacred vow And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter, Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart ; trust not my holy order, If I pervert your course. — Who 's here ? Enter Lucio. Lucio. Good even. Friar, where 's the provost ? Duke. Not within, sir. Lucio. O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red; thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran ; I dare not for my head fill my belly ; one fruitful meal would set me to 't. But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother ; if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived. [Exit Isabella. Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little behold- ing to your reports ; but the best is, he lives not in them. Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do ; he 's a better woodman than thou takest him for. Duke. Well, you '11 answer this one day. Fare ye well. 331 Measure for Measure Lucio, Nay, tarry ; I '11 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 ? Lucio. Yes, marry, did I ; but I was fain to forswear it : they would else have married me to the rotten medlar. Duke. Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. Lucio. By my troth, I '11 go with thee to the lane's end. If bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr ; I shall stick. [Exeunt. Scene 4. — A Room in Angelo's House. Enter Angelo and Escalus. Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath dis- vouched other. Ang. In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness ; pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted ! And why meet him at the gates, and redeliver our authorities there ? Escal. 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 ? Escal. 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. 332 Act IV Scene 5 Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed betimes i' the morn ; I '11 call you at your house. Give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him. Escal. I shall, sir. Fare you well. Ang. Good night. [Exit Escalus. This deed unshapes me quite, makes me un- pregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid, And by an eminent body that enforc'd 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 so credent bulk, That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should have liv'd, 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 liv'd ! Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right; we would, and we would not. [Exit. Scene 5.— Fields without the Town. Enter Duke in his own habit, and Friar Peter. Duke. These letters at fit time deliver me. [Giving letters. The provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, And hold you ever to our special drift, 333 Measure for Measure Though sometimes you do blench* from this [start to that, As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house, And tell him where I stay ; give the like notice To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate ; But send me Flavius first. Fri. P. It shall be speeded well. [Exit, 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. Scene 6. — Street near the City Gate. Enter Isabella and Mariana. Isab. To speak so indirectly I am loath. I would say the truth ; but to accuse him so, That is your part : yet I am advis'd to do it, He says, to veil full purpose. Mari. Be rul'd 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. Mari. I would Friar Peter — Isab. 0, peace ! the friar is come. Enter Friar Peter. Fri. P. 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 ; 334 Act V Scene 1 The generous and gravest citizens Have hent* the gates, and very near upon [seized The duke is ent'ring : therefore, hence, away ! [Exeunt. *7! act v. '.v-Vi i , . Scene 1. — The City Gate. Mariana veiled, Isabella, and Friar Peter, at their stand. Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Officers, and Citizens, at several doors. Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met ! Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. ^Escal } ^ a PPy re ^ urn De t° your royal grace ! Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you ; and we hear Such goodness of your justice, that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital. Ang. You make my bonds still greater. Duke. 0, your desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand, And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, You must walk by us on our other hand ; And good supporters are you. Friar Peter and Isabella conie forward. Fri P. Now is your time ; speak loud and kneel before him. 335 Measure for Measure Isab. Justice, O royal duke ! Vail* your [lower regard Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid ! O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object Till you have heard me in my true complaint And given me justice, justice, justice, justice ! Duke. Relate your wrongs; in what? by whom ? be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice ; Reveal yourself to him. Isab. O worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil. Hear me yourself ; for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believ'd, Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here ! Aug. 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 ! Aug. And she will speak most bitterly and strange. Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will 1 speak : That Angelo 's forsworn ; is it not strange ? That Angelo 's a murtherer ; is 't not strange ? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin- violater ; Is it not strange and strange ? Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange. Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange. Nay, it is ten times true ; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning. 336 Act V Scene 1 Duke. Away with her ! Poor soul, She speaks this in the infirmity of sense, Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness! Make not impossible That which but seems unlike : 'tis not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo ; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain ; believe it, royal prince. If he be less, he 's nothing ; but he 's more, Had I more name for badness. Duke. By mine honesty, If she be mad, — as I believe no other, — Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness. Isab. O gracious duke, Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason For inequality ; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true. Duke. Many that are not mad Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say ? Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head, condemn'd by Angelo. I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother ; one Lucio As then the messenger, — Lucio. That 's I, an 't like your grace. I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her i Y 337 Measure for Measure To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon. Isab. That 's he indeed. Duke. You were not bid to speak. Lucio. No, my good lord ; Nor wish'd to hold my peace. Duke. I wish you now, then : Pray you, take note of it ; and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect. Lucio. I warrant your honour. Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to 't. Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale, — Lucio. Right. Duke. It may be right, but you are i' the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed. Isab. I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy, — Duke. 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 pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd* me, and how I replied, — [refuted For this was of much length, — the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother ; and, aftermuchdebatement, 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. 338 Act V Scene 1 Duke. This is most likely ! Isab. O, that it were as like as it is true ! Duke. By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd 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 weigh'd thy brother by himself, And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on ; Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou cam'st here to complain. Isab. And is this all ? Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance ! Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go ! Duke. 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 ? Isab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick ! Duke. A ghostly father, belike. — Who knows that Lodowick ? Lucio. My lord, I know him ; 'tis a meddling friar. I do not like the man ; had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your grace 339 Measure for Measure In your retirement, I had swing' d* him [whipped soundly. Duke. Words against me ! this 's a good friar, belike ! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute ! Let this friar be found. Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison, — a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. Fri. P. Blessed be your royal grace ! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accus'd 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? Fri. P. I know him for a man divine and holy ; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he 's reported by this gentleman, And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. Lucio. My lord, most villanously ; believe it. Fri. P. Well, he in time may come to clear himself, But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false, and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear, Whensoever he's convented.* First, [summoned for this woman, 340 Act V Scene 1 To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accus'd, Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it. Duke. Good friar, let 's hear it. [Isabella is carried off guarded ; and Mariana comes forward. Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? 0 heaven, the vanity of wretched fools ! Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo ; In this I '11 be impartial ; be you judge Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar ? First, let her show her face, and after speak. Mari. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my lace Until my husband bid me. Duke. What, are you married ? Mari. No, my lord. Duke. Are you a maid ? Mari. No, my lord. Duke. A widow, then? Mari. Neither, my lord. Duke. Why, you are nothing then ; neither maid, widow, nor wife ? Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk ; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow ; I would he had some cause To prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married; And I confess besides I am no maid : 1 have known my husband, yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me. Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord ; it can be no better, 341 Measure for Measure Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too ! Lucio. Well, my lord. Duke. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. Mari. Now I come to % my lord : She that accuses him of fornication, In self -same manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him, my lord, with such a time When I '11 depose I had him in mine arms With all the effect of love. Ang. Charges she more than me ? Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No ? you say your husband. Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's. Ang. This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [ Unveiling. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou swor'st was worth the look- ing on ; This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine ; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagin'd person. Duke. Know you this woman ? Lucio. Carnally, she says. Duke. Sirrah, no more ! Lucio. Enough, 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, 342 Act V Scene 1 Partly for that her promised proportions* [portion Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was dis valued In levity ; since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. Mari. Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianc'd 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, [fixed A marble monument ! A ug. I did but smile till now : Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ; My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out. Duke. Ay, with my heart ; And punish them to your height of pleasure. — Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit That's seal'd in approbation? — You, Lord Escalus, 343 Measure for Measure Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd. — There is another friar that set them on ; Let him be sent for. Fri. P. 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. [Exit Provost. And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best, In any chastisement. I for a while will leave you; But stir not you till you have well determin'd Upon these slanderers. Escal. My lord, we '11 do it thoroughly. [Exit Duke. Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ? Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum* : [a cowl honest in nothing but in his clothes ; makes no monk and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the duke. Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him; we shall find this friar a notable fellow. Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word. Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again ; I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant.] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall see how I '11 handle her. Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report. Escal. Say you ? Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her 344 Act V Scene 1 privately, she would sooner confess ; perchance, publicly, she '11 be ashamed. Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That 's the way ; for women are light at midnight. Re-enter Officers with Isabella ; and Provost with the Duke in his friar's hab it. Escal. Come on, mistress. Here's a gentle- woman denies all that you have said. Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of ; here with the provost. Escal. In very good time; speak not you to him till we call upon you. Lucio. Mum. Escal. Come, sir ; did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did. Duke. 'Tis false. Escal. How ! know you where you are ? Duke. Respect to your great place ! and let the devil Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne ! Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me speak. Escal. The duke 's in us, and we will hear you speak ; Look you speak justly. Duke. Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox ? Good night to your redress ! Is the duke gone ? Then is your cause gone too. The duke 's unjust, Thus to retort your manifest appeal, And put your trial in the villain's mouth Which here you come to accuse. Lucio. This is the rascal ; this is he I spoke of. 345 Measure for Measure Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar, Is 't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain ? and then to glance from him To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice ? Take him hence ; to the rack with him ! — We '11 toUZe * yOU [rend Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. What, 'unjust'! Duke. Be not so hot ; the duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he Dare rack his own ; his subject am I not, Nor here provincial. My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o'er-run the stew ; laws for all faults, But faults so countenanc'd that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, As much in mock as mark. Escal. Slander to the 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 ? Lucio. 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, good- man baldpate ; do you know me ? Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice ; I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke. Lucio. 0, did you so ? And do you remember what you said of the duke ? Duke. Most notedly, sir. Lucio. Do you so, sir ? And was the duke a 346 Act V Scene 1 fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be ? Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report ; you, indeed, spoke so of him, and much more, much worse. Lucio. 0 thou damnable fellow ! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches ? Duke. I protest I love the duke as I love myself. Aug. Hark, how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses ! Escal. 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 [wantcm the other confederate companion ! Duke. [ To Provost] Stay, sir ; stay awhile. Aug. What, resists he ? — Help him, Lucio. Lucio. Come, sir ; come, sir ; come, sir ; foh, sir I 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! iback-wting Will 't not off? [Pulls off the Fr iar's hood and d iscovers the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er made a duke. — First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. [To Lucio] Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you Must have a word anon. — Lay hold on him. Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging. Duke. [To Escalus] What you have spoke I pardon ; sit you down. We'll borrow place of him. [To Angelo] Sir, by your leave. 347 Measure for Measure 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. O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your grace, like power divine, Hath look'd upon my passes.* Then, good tacts prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession. Immediate sentence then and sequent death Is all the grace I beg. Duke. Come hither, Mariana. — Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman ? Ang. I was, my lord. Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. Do you the office, friar ; which consummate, Return him here again. Go with him, provost. [Exeunt Ang., Marl., Fri. P., and Prov. Escal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dis- honour Than at the strangeness of it. Duke. Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince ; as I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service. Isab. O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty ! Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel ; And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart ; 34 8 Act V Scene 1 And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. 0 most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain'd* my purpose. But, peace be [balked with him ! That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. Isab. I do, my lord. Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Friar Peter, and Provost, Duke. For this new-married man approach- ing here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake ; but as he adjudg'd your brother, — Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life, — The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, * An Angelo for Claudio, death for death ! 1 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 349 Measure for Measure Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. Away with him ! Mari. 0 my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit ; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life And choke your good to come. For his posses- sions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow* you withal, [dower To buy you a better husband. Mari. 0 my dear lord, I crave no other, nor no better man. Duke. Never crave him ; we are definitive. Mari. Gentle my liege, — [Kneeling. Duke. You do but lose your labour. — Away with him to death ! [To Lucid] Now, sir, to you. Mari. O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part ; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I '11 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. Mari. Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me ; Hold up your hands, say nothing ; I '11 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. 350 Act V Scene 1 0 Isabel, will you not lend a knee ? Duke, He dies for Claudio's death. Isab. Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling. Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother liv'd. I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me ; since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died. For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way. Thoughts are no subjects — Intents but merely thoughts. Mari. Merely, my lord. Duke, Your suit's unprofitable ; stand up, I say. 1 have bethought me of another fault. Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour ? Prov, It was commanded so. Duke, Had you a special warrant for the deed? Prov, No, my good lord ; it was by private message. Duke, For which I do discharge you of your office ; Give up your keys. Prov, Pardon me, noble lord. I thought it was a fault, but knew it not, Yet did repent me, after more advice ; For testimony whereof, one in the prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. Duke, What 'she? Prov, His name is Barnardine. Duke, I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. 351 Measure for Measure Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit Provost. Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood, And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. 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. Re-enter Provost, with Barnardine, Claudio muffled, and Juliet. Duke. Which is that Barnardine ? Prov. 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 con- demn'd ; But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all, And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. — Friar, advise him ; I leave him to your hand. — What muffled fellow 's that ? Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav'd, Who should have died when Claudio lost his head, As like almost to Claudio as himself. [ Unmuffles Claudio. Duke. [To Isabella] If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon'd ; and, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand, and say you will be mine, He is my brother too ; — but fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he 's safe ; 352 Act V Scene 1 Methinks I see a quick'ning in his eye. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well ; Look that you love your wife ; her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself ; And yet here 's one in place I cannot pardon. [To Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman, Wherein have I deserved so of you, That you extol me thus ? Lucio. Faith, my lord, 1 spoke it but accord- ing to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipt. Duke. Whipt first, sir, and hang'd after. Proclaim it, provost, round about the city, If any woman 's wrong'd by this lewd fellow — As I have heard him swear himself there 's one Whom he begot with child — let her appear, And he shall marry her ; the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd. Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke ; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison, And see our pleasure herein executed. Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. [Exeunt Officers ivith Lucio. She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you re- store. — i Z 353 Measure for Measure Joy to you, Mariana ! Love her, Angelo ; I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much gOOdneSS ; [gratifying 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 ; The offence pardons itself. — Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good, Whereto if you '11 a willing ear incline, What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine. — So, bring us to our palace, where we '11 show What 's yet behind, that 's meet you all should know. [Exeunt 354 PRINTED BY TCRNBULL AND SPEARS EDINBURGH e 1 *- 8 Wo GETTY CENTER LIBRARY 3 3125 00133 2341